RP: I Like Turtles Pt. 1

Here's another joint effort. James plays the part of Firael in this little fic, in which Ysani decides that something is interesting enough to override her fear of leaving the safety of Dalaran.

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Ysani stared wide-eyed at the night elf noodle chef. An expanse of stretchy dough twisted and roiled between his outspread hands, and he eyed her lazily as he repeatedly pulled the long strands out and doubled them on themselves. The mushed end of dough trimmed, he dropped the finished noodles into the bubbling pot of water at hand, and while they cooked he filled a large metal bowl with a smooth, steaming sauce that smelled incredibly tangy and rich to her underfed nose. Dipping a dented colander into the pot, he caught the hot pasta and slopped it into the bowl, tossing it all together with a wicked-looking fork as big as Ysani's arm. A bit of chopped nuts, sprouted beans and a pungent green leaf went over all, and he divided the sum between two clever paper boxes. Finally he jabbed a pair of cheap wooden sticks in each one and pushed them across the counter. "Four gold."

She dug in her pocket and pulled out a handful of coins. "I didn't even know this place was here. That's a pretty neat trick. And it smells really good." Ysani smiled up at Firael, then peered down into her container. "What are the sticks for?"

"You eat with them, like this." He held his chopsticks perfectly and picked up some noodles with them. "See? Now you try!"

Glancing doubtfully between his hand and her own, she imitated the curl of his fingers and almost got it well enough to pull a few noodles up to her mouth. They flopped back into the box and she blew hair out of her eyes, adjusted her grip and tried again. Three noodles made it and she slurped them up. "MMMPH!" She chewed blissfully and swallowed, speaking again without food in her mouth this time. "It's so good! I've been missing out all this time!"

Firael clicked his two chopsticks together. "They're fantastic!" He managed to say through a mouthful of noodles. "So did you want to see the shop now? It's not much, but if you really wanted to..."

"Um. I suppose I could. I mean... it's safe right? Is it in Silvermoon? Hopefully near a guard post or something...?" She crammed another mouthful of noodles in her face and chewed, closing her eyes with an expression near ecstasy. "How is it even possible for something to taste so good? They're almost as good as muffins."

"Of course it's safe, it's in Farstrider square, the safest place in all of Azeroth. The Farstriders watch out for the elves and keep us safe, it's why I'm an initiate with them!" He shoved a bunch of noodles in his mouth, they hung down comically from his lips as he looked at her for a response.

Ysani stopped smiling. "Oh." She sucked up a stray noodle from her chopsticks and stared down into her dinner. "I don't know if..." A scowl wrinkled her brow for a moment, then she straightened up and lifted her pointed chin. "Certainly it's safe. We should go." She paused. "You... have a noodle on your face. Right here--no, here.... little to the-- there, you got it."

"To the Silvermoon portal?" He would have grabbed her by the hand and dragged her to it, but he had his hands full of noodles, and was rubbing one off his face at that. He sucked it off the end of his finger and started off towards the portal, Mister Gramms walking beside of him.

"Yeah." She followed, noodles tucked carefully in the crook of her arm. On the other side of the portal, she made sure her food had survived the trip. Yep, still delicious. She forgot for a moment that maybe she ought to be afraid and simply sucked up bundles of saucy pasta, much to the annoyance of the magisters talking about important stuff nearby.

"And you've never read Engineering Digest? I've got so many back issues at my place it will make your head spin!" He slurped up some more noodles, Firael at least was quickly reaching the bottom of his box of noodles. "I've got some other mags, but they're not as good, they're just in it for the profit you know, they always feature these pictures of scantily clad gals in front of the machine you're trying to look at. Who reads those?"

Ysani blushed. "I guess goblins do, I've seen those in all their shops. ... Actually, that reminds me of this one time--nevermind, you don't want to hear that story." She precluded any attempt he might make at asking any questions about said incident by stuffing her mouth with more noodles.

"Stories can be good, but if you don't want to tell it that's fine." He pushed the last mouthful of his noodles into his mouth and pointed his chopsticks ahead, down a street of Farstrider square. The pointing came a good bit before his voice did, slurping and swallowing the noodles before speaking. "It's just down there!"

"It's really embarrassing, I'd rather not. I want to see your shop, anyway." Ysani stuck the chopsticks back in the box and gripped Firael's wrist, dragging him down the street. She suddenly wanted to get out of plain sight, and in a hurry. "Which one is it?"