Sunday Dinner

Mavis Archer prepares a meal each and every sunday. The dishes change with every passing week, often based on what Whiskey can hunt and what the mood calls for. However, each event is magical.   Mavis' gift as one of the touched includes the ability to enhance the flavor and nutritional value of food. Any meal prepared by her will be second to none, no matter how many Michelin stars you have.   The meal is a proper event, always centered around something truly unique, a main course that includes hard to find and often strange Ingredients. This Sunday, for example, features stray honeyed ham, with Anise and sassafras.

"Boring, huh?" Mavis crosses her arms, watching as the others pass the food around the table. She's pleased to see their plates fill up as time went on and eager to get their opinions on how the food tasted.   Whiskey speaks up then, chewing with speed to get the food down beforehand, "I don't like being so close to the direwood. Rainbows I can handle, but dires. Not a chance."   "You can actually fight the dires," Corey adds. "What makes them scarier?"   "I grew up on a reservation. Take it from me. Nature does some weird shit when no one's watching."   "Doesn't matter in the end. If we go to help this girl, and we should, we're going to have to deal with both."   "Why?" Whiskey asks. "Why go this route? Why help her at all."   Cory let out a sarcastic laugh. "Are you serious? Someone's in trouble and that's the quickest way to help."   Olive adds, "the letter did say lives were at stake."   Whiskey looks at each of them, and when she looked at Mavis, who stared back with a look of deep concern, she gave in. "Fine."