#[Spoiler but I couldn't find a good way to fit Walani in]

[tinkering-survivor]

[@burlybeardlord @ds-secret-santa I’m so sorry this is so late! It took a good while to decide what to do with your request, and I went through a few scraps and rewrites before finally ending up with a finished product that would satisfy both me as a creator and you as a reader. I hope you like it! ^^’]

“It should be done just about-”

*FWOOM*

“Finally! Now, let’s see what we’ve got-UGH!”

The distraught chef flinched away from the crock pot and its contents in utter revulsion. While Warly’s culinary experimentations – especially his latest work on the Constant’s foodstuffs – occasionally lead to mixed results, he’d usually produce something that was at least edible. This slimy, pungent purple meat concoction his precious crock pot had produced didn’t seem to have that quality.

“If I cannot continue to hone my craft while within the confines of this world then what is there left for me?” He knew he was being melodramatic, but this didn’t seem to be an isolated incident. Ever since he’d reassembled that mechanical boat and woke up in an uncomfortably temperate new world, Warly had had trouble doing what he did best: creating culinary masterpieces that delighted all the senses. The incredibly basic ingredients left much to be desired, and more often than not his attempts at experimentation resulted in either pretty basic dishes or just plain failure. This particular bit of nastiness he’d unwittingly unleashed upon the world was definitely the latter.

Sighing, Warly proceeded to dispose of the mess, making sure to handle it with care so it wouldn’t spill and make an even worse mess. Unfortunately there wasn’t anywhere to properly dispose of something so vile, so he just left it at the tree line of a nearby pine forest; he hoped the smell wouldn’t permeate his camp while it inevitably degraded and rotted since it was so far away from his camp. He then quickly left the scene, returned to his camp, and busied himself with thoroughly scrubbing his poor crock pot to remove any trace of the abomination.

Meanwhile, the aroma had attracted something to the area.

The being had been foraging in the same pine forest that afternoon when they were suddenly attracted by a particular smell. While the revolting smell of finely minced monster meat would be enough to make even the hungriest person decline a meal, there were some things in the Constant that could stomach - and even enjoy – the vile stuff. As the oh-so “delightful” aroma of whatever it was that Warly had pulled out of his crock pot wafted through the pines, the unknown thing paused their search for food when they caught the scent. They hesitated for a moment or two before following the smell to its source.

As the tree line grew nearer the thing paused their advance upon seeing a person approaching. Fearing for their safety they ducked into a bush to conceal themselves, unsure of how the unfamiliar human would react to them. Luckily the stranger had neither seen nor heard them and had proceeded to do… whatever it was they were doing. Whatever that something was, they seemed to be in a hurry. After the stranger left in a hurry, the hidden being crept out of the bush to investigate, the enticing smell from earlier being stronger than ever.

Warly was still trying to remove any trace of the crime against good taste he had created from the crock pot. Without any proper soap he’d resigned to using hot water, which meant a lot more scrubbing. It would be safe to assume he was more or less preoccupied for the moment, which was probably why he hadn’t heard anything approaching his encampment. Hell, he didn’t even notice the stench of monster meat that had come back with a vengeance until the wind changed course. His eyes narrowed in annoyance at the returning smell; at first he thought the scent was just being carried on the wind, but after a moment he noticed it seemed… pretty darn close.

Sensing something fishy (actually “fishy” would be an improvement) was afoot, Warly turned around to see what was the matter. There wasn’t much in his camp, so he usually noticed abnormalities instantly. This time was definitely no different. After all, would anyone be able to miss a four-foot-tall spider with sharp fangs and glowing eyes?

Webber made sure to look around to see if the coast was clear before stepping out of the relative safety of the woods and into the open. They sniffed at the air, similarly to how one might do so while a holiday feast was being prepared. In an instant they homed in on the source of the smell - which was indeed monster meat, but prepared in a way they weren’t familiar with; raw meat (rather unusual given that many found raw meat of any kind to be nauseating) minced finely, mixed with spices and other flavorings they’d never seen in the Constant, and topped with raw egg yolk.

They stooped down and picked up the small plate. Even if the main component of the dish was monster meat, it seemed a lot more deliberate in ingredient choice than many dishes produced by a crock pot; they just couldn’t imagine why anyone would just toss out such a well-prepared meal. They figured it must’ve been a mistake of some sort.

As much as they wanted the food for themselves, Webber decided to return it. Though one might see this as a fruitless gesture since the meal had been deliberately left in the woods, there was a certain logic to their decision; after all how many times had they had to leave cool stuff behind to make more room in their pockets for more useful fare? The man who’d left it there was long gone, but they remembered where he went. The plume of smoke that presumably rose from a campfire certainly helped, too.

When they got to the stranger’s camp they found him with his back to them, busily scrubbing away at a rather fancy-looking crock pot. They made sure to be extra quiet, not wanting to startle him by making loud or sudden noises. As they drew near the wind picked up behind them, causing them to stop in place and shiver from the sudden cold. Suddenly the man they’d been watching turned around, eyes going wide as his locked with theirs.In a flash Warly took refuge behind the crock pot in an effort to put a barricade of any sort between him and the monster. “Get back, you fiend!” He felt around in search of a weapon, drawing a crude flint carving knife and brandishing it at the interloper. “Back, I said! I’ll have you know I’m an accomplished butcher!”

Meanwhile Webber was frozen in place, shivering and shaking slightly. They dared not move, not wanting to get the business end of that admittedly kinda cruddy knife. Though they’d forgotten for a moment when stranger panicked, they remembered why they’d even followed him to his camp and held up the small platter they’d found in an effort to placate him.

“Pl-please calm down, m-mister! We’re not here to hurt you!” they stammered, shrinking back a little. “We just wanted to give this back to you.” They held the meal out so the man could get a better look at it.

In an instant Warly’s expression changed from terrified to disgusted when his attention was drawn from the spider to the… plate… they were holding… in their hands… Hands? Spiders don’t have hands! At least he didn’t think so. They sure didn’t in the Archipelago. He lowered the knife, but still kept hold of it just in case.

“Why would I want that?” he questioned. “It is a culinary abomination and quite frankly I am disgusted by the fact I created it.”

Webber was glad the man seemed to have settled down; now their own nerves could to relax as well. They stood up straighter – slowly so as to not startle him again – and tilted their head quizzically at him. “What’re you talking about? It looks pretty tasty to me.”

“Really?” Warly responded with a hint of skepticism. “You think poisonous mincemeat looks ‘tasty’?” At first he thought the… child(?) had a screw or two loose, but it really did make sense once he took their beastly appearance into account. Still, he couldn’t put his own sensibilities aside, and his “monster tartare” looked and smelled thoroughly disgusting.

“Yeah!” Webber chirped enthusiastically. “We’ve never seen anyone cook anything like that before – especially not with monster meat. We’ve only been able to make lasagna with it, but that gets boring sometimes.” They rocked on their heels, thinking for a moment or two, before speaking again. “Can we try it?”

The chef stared at the child again, donning a similar quizzical head tilt for himself before carefully setting his knife down and shrugging with indifference. Webber took this as permission and sat down to enjoy the new treat. They did their best to eat neatly, but without any utensils it was kind of a lost cause. They put a tiny bite in their mouth, and immediately their eyes lit up as well as spider eyes could and their extra appendages flared out in a decidedly nonthreatening way.

“Hey, this is really good,” they said between bites, “even better than lasagna!” They hastily dug in as Warly looked on in surprise. Though he’d expected the kid to be able to tolerate the toxins in the meat, he hadn’t expected them to actually enjoy it at all – let alone as much as they seemed to.

“...Pardon?” Warly questioned somewhat flatly. At this point he turned away and pondered to himself, arms crossed and foot tapping away. “Surely this child must be desperate for any sort of meal; steak tartare is an acquired taste as is - to say nothing of this more monstrous variety - and I’ve never seen anyone take an immediate liking to it. Even I don’t particularly care for it.”

“Um, are you okay mister? We’ve always been told it’s not good to talk to yourself.”

At this prompting the man whirled back around to face his impromptu visitor. “Sorry, sorry. I just find it a bit hard to swallow that you - anyone, really - would find that culinary abomination palatable.” He leaned against the crock pot and sighed tiredly. “To think this place has reduced me to serving literal garbage to the children of monsters.”

“Aw, don’t say that,” Webber said as they finished their meal. “I bet lots of people would like your food - especially if you made something that was safe for everyone.”

“Yes, and I suppose you’d know quite a few lost souls who are also trapped in this inescapable wilderness?” Warly jokingly asked. “No doubt there’s scores of folks out there who’d line up to get a taste of Chef Warly’s ‘exotic’ masterpieces?”

“Well, actually yeah? I mean, it’s not like none of us can cook, but-”

“Wait, there’s more of you?! More people, that is?!”

“Yeah! There’s Miss Willow, Mister Woodie, Miss Winona...”

“So there are people here - real people!” In his excitement Warly almost didn’t catch himself. “Er, no offense to you, my small friend. For so long the only company I’ve had has been snarky parrots and irritable pigs, both making rather poor patrons. But now I might actually get to share my craft with people who might actually appreciate it.” His expression fell somewhat as a thought crossed his mind, though. “Of course, I can’t help but wonder if I’ve lapsed after so long without any real critique.”

“I don’t know,” Webber responded. “It seems like you’d have to be pretty good to make something that’s weird and tasty. Even if any other cool recipes you made up aren’t as good they’d be better than having meatballs every night.” Their tone became more solemn before they continued. “But we understand if you’re nervous; we were nervous when we met other people for the first time too. But they liked us! Now it’s almost like a big nest, only everyone helps take care of each other instead of fighting and hissing all the time - only sometimes.” They quietly chittered at that, seemingly amused. “I’m sure that everyone will be nice like they were with us.” 

It certainly was tempting. After all, it’d been what seemed like an eternity since he’d been around real people. On one hand, he missed the comfort of civilization, and maybe integrating into a community, however small and mismatched, would benefit both him and whoever else in the long run. On the other hand, he’d been tricked by this world many times before, and he didn’t feel too keen on the idea of falling for any more traps. In the end, basic human need won out over reason. It wasn’t like he’d been seriously invested in this little camp of his anyway since the only thing of real value could be easily transported.

“Alright, I concede.” In no time at all Warly had his personal portable crock pot packed up and ready to go. “Au revoir, camp.” He adjusted his hold on the cookware and turned towards the beastly child. “I don’t suppose you’d care to lead the way, young man?”

In a flash Webber took hold of Warly’s free hand and eagerly pulled him along. “C’mon, camp’s this way! We’d better hurry though; none of the adults like it when we’re gone for so long by ourselves.”