So, as the preparations for the meat fest began, a small and swift figure cut through the workers, careful to keep out of the way. Desdenova sought out Canaan, and there were so many people and so much meat, he actually was reduced to asking people - too many smells to sort through!
Finally, the boy found his quarry and trotted up with a big bright smile on his face. Wearing a green Miskatonic University Second String Lab Rat t-shirt and cut offs and chucks, no visible hat, he was just another kid running loose.
"Hi! Hi, Mr. Canaan! Is there going to be carne asada?" he cheered as he came to a halt and of course, bowed a little, politely. The big Cajun rounded on the boy with a gruff stare, brandishing a pair of tongs in one hand and a half-empty beer in the other.
"What?" he barked, which was his knee jerk reaction to anyone that short talking to him. The man's expression softened as recognition kicked in.
"Oh, hey kid. Why the fuck would we be serving carne asada?" Canaan's eyes narrowed a little, and he pointed the bbq sauce covered tongs at Desdenova's face. "You know Sal's from Spain, not Mexico, right?"
"Because, carne asada is awesome," he pointed out, "And I have like, gallons of salsa fresca, homemade. AND uhm Uhm Uhm." Torturous for a moment, but not long enough to really get annoying. He screwed up his face and spit it out.
"Idon'tthinkNile'shaditbeforeandIthinksshe'dre allylikeit." Whew. The smile returned to his features. "I mean. Nile's my friend and stuff and I rescued her from a family vacation so you know ...I thought it'd be cool. I can cook it."
He was much too small and slight for the big grills.
"Uh huh." A sly, knowing smirk drew a crooked line across the Cajun's handsome, bearded face. "All right, my man. I think I can help you out. But I ain't lettin' you touch a grill. I've heard the stories. And let's not forget the photo booth."
God, the man could look menacing without even trying. But the fact that he was meant he was just teasing. Probably.
"What do you need from me" Just some flank steak cooked up when y'all get here?"
What' What"!" Desdenova’s pale face whooshed over bright red, and Cane hadn't said a darn thing naughty. But then he gave a quirky smile to the looming menace, not quite cheeky, but it hid the fact he hunkered down somewhat. At least, he thought it did.
"It was a pretty cool steam punk skull." he pointed out. This not being the point. But he wasn't going to deny it. He was pretty sure it was the fae's fault, but he should have adjusted for them!
"Flank steak with uhm..." pause. He dug into his backpack and withdrew a half gallon plastic jug of reddish liquid. He held it up. "Marinade. It's uhm, papaya, and red pepper, some tabasco, onions, garlic, and stuff. Just throw it in a pan or a bag with the meat and let it soak." Papaya would do all the work, the rest was just flavor.
Cane's mouth fell open, but then he laughed. "You just carry steak marinade around in your backpack?" He set his beer aside and took the jug from Des, rolling his eyes and heaving a sigh. "Weirdo."
Note the sliver of affection. "I'll slice some up and let it marinade in the fridge for a while." Cane gestured with the jug toward the Carniceria, meaning one of the refrigerators in the butcher shop. "I'll be here all day. Y'all come find me later on an' I'll toss it on a grill. Deal?"
"Deal!" Desdenova returned that with a sunny smile and he laughed, showing the backpack. It was just a plain and simple black back pack, but it had a lot in common with his mother's tapestry bag. Everything came out of it!
"Well, yeah. It's easier than carrying it around or pulling my wagon. Thanks. I appreciate it a lot." he assured Canaan, bouncing in place. "You want me to bring you anything?" He probably meant salsa, tortillas, peaches, peppers, whatever, but rather than to say that, he just asked, curious what a man up to his neck in bbq might want.
The party was rather well stocked with summer fruits and veggies as it was, and tortillas were offered along with the other breads. The Cajun scanned the bustle of volunteers who were still in the process of setting everything up under the square tents that lined the street.
"As King Of The Grill, I accept offerings in the form of cash, liquor, and food. Oh, explosives, too." What' Des didn't think Cane was going to do this out of the kindness of his heart, did he" Favors were bad things to owe, so really he was doing the boy a courtesy.
"Explosives are easiest," he nodded. "I'll see ya this afternoon. Thank you!" Beaming smile, and the kid turned, darting back into the fracas, but this time, he just vanished.
Desdenova scurried home, quickly through the kitchen where his mother was blearily trying to use the Force on the percolator to perk faster, while his father, cool and dapper even at that early hour, finished his breakfast.
A few days before, Desdenova had gotten his mother to call Nile’s mother, and they arranged for an amicable exchange of progeny. Which meant that Nile’s brothers were driving her bats, and her parents preferred them alive.
When Nile came downstairs, Desdenova was quick to head her off from the kitchen.
“It’s Friday the thirteenth,” he explained, “It’s meat day. We’ve got to get to RhyDin and follow the smoke.” Half hoping she hadn’t seen the fliers for the big BBQ, or remember it from last year. Because that would be more fun, but, still. Free Meat.
"Meat day?" Apparently Nile had missed that last year. And it was a pretty good bet that she hadn't seen the flyers, having been on Family Vacation Hell until Des had sprung her earlier in the week. "Well, I can get behind meat!"
She was in Bermuda shorts, sandals, and her Triforce tank top, clearly dressed for the heat.
“Meat Day,” he assured her darkly, though on the inside, he was gleeful. “Come on!” He reached for her hand, and looked around cheerfully for Mom and Dad.
“Meat Day!” he called, “Be back tonight. We’ll bring back meat!”
Desdenova’s dad said something about ‘mighty hunters’ while reading the paper, his mother just rolled her eyes and waited on the coffee. And, they were off!
Desdenova pulled Nile through the permanent gate his mother had installed in an old dummy closet, and … voila! They were walking out of the inn’s kitchen to the main room.
"You were talking to your mom before coffee, like living dangerously?" Because nobody tried talking to Ilhar before Talice had had hers. She had to giggle a bit about his dad's comment, though.
"I could always bring him home a deer, too. You eat venison, right?" Nile did, but hers was usually raw. At least she didn't often eat stuff like the hair and hooves and so on with it. "Do we need to ride there?"
“Dad’s good at catching her and putting her back in front of the pot,” he responded with a cackle. “He doesn’t drink coffee at all, just orange juice. The sugar gives him the ability to catch her.” More or less, anyhow. His mom was okay with words that didn’t require her thought.
“Oh, yeah, we love venison. I’ve only hunted for rabbit and squirrel, though. Mom doesn’t have time to go hunting deer or whatever so much.” he explained, and then he considered, jaw moving side to side. “I don’t think so, it’s in the marketplace by Teas ’n’ Tomes.” He trailed off, and shrugged to her.
"Oh, that's not too far. Yeah, my dad doesn't like coffee at all. More for Mom. Safer that way too. She guards our pot." Nile didn't drink coffee either. No bean juice or herby stuff. Bone broth, mmm. She'd probably ask for bones, too, when she figured out where they were going.
"I like rabbit and squirrel, too, but those are like...snacks." Chortling a bit at that, and grinning with all her sharky teeth. "But I can get one and clean and skin it for you guys."
“Snacks,” he cackled. “Mom always let Dad know she was pregnant by making him grilled rabbit.” because they were romantic like that. “He eyes her funny any time she makes rabbit for dinner.”
Happy to offer his hand to Nile, Desdenova started off, almost skipping. Someone was in a good mood! He was all sunshine and less than gothiness. “I want to watch you hunt, that’s got to be a lot more epic than just shooting at supper.”
Nile snickered at that. "Mom doesn't need to do stuff like that, because our type of fae weirdness has her laying eggs." And then she shrugged. It was a tossup if she'd do that if the time ever came, but with the way things were, she was betting on yes.
Just careful of her talons when she took his hand, though she just trotted along. No less happy, just maybe less peppy' But her sibs wore her out. She was resting!
"Oh, my sibs think it's gross when I hunt. Well. York and Ypres don't but they're at the age where they like pulling wings off of insects, too, even though I remind them of how macabre that is." Because the little brats had wings too! Even if they were hidden most of the time.
“Eggs are probably easier than nine months of a little parasite playing nine pins on your ribs,” he noted, sensitively. He could smell it! Carmelizing sauces, burning wood, smoldering charcoals, and Meat. Pork and Beef alike. His mouth watered already, but he’d been up early to grab a jug of marinade to run to Canaan. He wasn’t quite slobbering, but he was close.
“Hah! They better be careful, Lady Fate loves messing with people like that. She’s all hand in hand with Dharma and Kharma, and the next think you know, a giant fly’s making you into a walk.” The skipping tread was moving into a trot! MMmmm.
"Just wait til Dad finds out. He's not as wicked as Ilhar, but that's the kind of thing that'll get the twins in deep kim chee, even if Fate doesn't get them."
Nile would just sit back and watch that sort of thing, whatever happened. And...oh, her nose was literally twitching, now. And she was doing her very best not to salivate. But her pace was probably picking up. She wouldn't quite be dragging Des along, but it would be pretty close.
And. Finally: The Glory that was Meat Day. He paused and indicated the entire festival of Pork and Beef, beaming. It was early yet, and the full weight of the crowds hadn’t shown up yet. He paused, though, and handed Nile a small folded fabric grocery bag. Opened, it had a bright lot of sunflowers printed on the sides.
“It’s a shopping bag of holding. There’s tons of freebies.” he explained. “But I’ve got a surprise for you, so don’t totally cram your maw until we get to the middle of the grills.” he advised, grinning. He had another of the bags, his had a moon and beach scene on it.
Nile opened her mouth—though the bag had her grinning briefly—quirking a brow at Des. "Oh?" There was a lot of maw to cram, though! Still, Nile would behave. And probably have a bit of her uncle's potion, just in case. She planned to eat more meat than anything else, and marinades usually did her no wrong, but better safe than sorry. Some of the fruit might tempt her palate, and that would make her sorry otherwise!
There was Salsa Fresca and tortillas and all sorts of other sauces, relishes, and breads. Nile had best take the potion!
“Yeah. I asked Mr. Canaan if he’d mind making something different for you to try,” he beamed, though he was intending to just oh hay, look at this. But he was too excited. He grabbed a few t-shirts, snickering. “Dad won’t wear ‘em where people can see ‘em. Gentlemen are only seen in undershirts when they’re home,” he explained, “But he’s sure got a lot of them from his college! T-shirts, I mean. But they’re undershirts to him.” His dad was old.
"My dad doesn't at all. Wear t-shirts, I mean." She wasn't going to get any for her younger sibs, but she'd grab one for herself—the Secondhand Vegetarian one—and the Pulled Pork one got a snicker out of her. That one she'd get for Mourne. Hopefully he'd turn different colors, or sputter a bit! And hopefully Ilhar would not.
"You too young to be a gentlemen yet then?" Snickering a bit at that jibe, and reaching out to ruffle his hair, but only for a moment.
Desdenova scoffed, tossing his head. She’d touch for his hair, but she’d feel a rubbery helmet. It was invisible for the moment. Because yes, he’d figured out that she liked his hair! Vain little creature that he was. It was pretty hair, however.
“One is never too young to learn the niceties of the proper behavior of gentlemen, and a true gentleman shall be known even if covered in mud and wearing his sister’s half-slip.” Boy that was specific. Maybe she should ask Jackie about it. Snootiness turned to a grin as he picked out Canaan, working hard over the smoking grills, and tugged Nile for him.
"Should I be telling Jackie she's missing something?" With a pout for being unable to slip her talons through his hair. Why did he have a Happy Helmet?" Nile chortled again when she caught sight of Cane's apron, raised both hands (even if one was still in Des'), and gave a holler for it. The Cajun is not the only one who's going to eat their own weight in meat!
“…Nooo,” Desdenova replied, innocent. He always wore a helmet, his seizures happened randomly despite his medications. So. He just hid them as hats, or nothing, as today.
Desdenova waved to Canaan, and though the man was busy as a eight legged pup in a kitten factory, he grinned to the pair, and slap! A huge stack of flap meat on a platter was put out for them. So Much Carne Asada. Des grinned and grabbed the platter, hurrying to a picnic table to share the bounty with Nile.
“Come on! It’s time to make tacos!” Dun dun dun! He made them up proper, tender sliced pieces of the meat on corn tortillas with salsa fresca, cilantro, and a squeeze of lime.
Luckily Nile didn't seem to be one of those who thought cilantro tasted like soap. Or maybe her Uncle Edmont's potion was just that good! Though Des made good tacos, too.
Little Evil usually was good to her. She wasted no time in cramming a taco into her mouth, eyes half-lidded and practically crooning with pleasure. Doing her best, also, to not forget to *chew*, or bolt it down, either. This kind of meat was meant to be savored, not snorfed down as fast as possible.
Desdenova watched Nile, wide eyed and grinning, before he tucked in with gusto. Canaan was a barbeque and grilling king. About half way through the first pile, Desdenova turned to beam at Canaan, holding up a taco. Then he brought over a big plate of them, leaving them in offering before hopping back and watching Nile mow through the meat.
Now that’s a damn good Friday the Thirteenth!
(Written with the awesomeness of Canaan and Nile <3)
