Mina couldn’t remember the last time she’d been to the ren faire. It had to have been when she was a child and with her parents. She had a memory of a turkey leg the size of her arm, and not being able to eat it all. Now, she bit into a spit-roasted drumstick that was definitely bigger than a chicken leg, but not as large as she remembered. The dark meat, juicy and glistening, tore away in tender bits. She chewed, sucking air past her lips to cool her mouth.
Warm fat dribbled from the rend, across crispy flesh and down the pale bone to be absorbed in the paper napkin which held the turkey leg. She could feel the damp warmth against her skin where it soaked through. Just as long as she didn’t dribble any on her clothes, she’d be happy. To this, she swallowed and took another bite, leaning forward as she did.
Mina strolled as she ate, taking in the sights. A lute played from somewhere distant, plucking out a sweet melody. The tune familiar, but she couldn’t place it. She watched a troop of knights in full plate tromp past in ringing steel; they were cosplayers, or maybe LARPers, she didn’t really know the difference but assumed there had to be one. Or maybe it was just a different word for the same thing. There was a name for that, too, but her sleep-deprived brain couldn’t pin the word down.
The napkin wrapped around the turkey bone was sodden now, the fat congealing into something unpleasant in her fist. Mina took another bite, the meat cooler now. Laughter drew her forward and brought her to stage show; a jester in motley danced on stage and juggled knives. He joked with the audience as he did. It was a bawdy juvenile kind of humor that adults understood but children still laughed at.
The joke caught Mina by surprise and she laughed around a mouthful of turkey, coughing as some started down the wrong pipe. The corners of her eyes prickled with tears and she felt her face redden as she coughed the bit of meat into her palm.
Glancing to the person she found herself beside. “Almost died there.” She said, and chuckled through her embarrassment.
Warm fat dribbled from the rend, across crispy flesh and down the pale bone to be absorbed in the paper napkin which held the turkey leg. She could feel the damp warmth against her skin where it soaked through. Just as long as she didn’t dribble any on her clothes, she’d be happy. To this, she swallowed and took another bite, leaning forward as she did.
Mina strolled as she ate, taking in the sights. A lute played from somewhere distant, plucking out a sweet melody. The tune familiar, but she couldn’t place it. She watched a troop of knights in full plate tromp past in ringing steel; they were cosplayers, or maybe LARPers, she didn’t really know the difference but assumed there had to be one. Or maybe it was just a different word for the same thing. There was a name for that, too, but her sleep-deprived brain couldn’t pin the word down.
The napkin wrapped around the turkey bone was sodden now, the fat congealing into something unpleasant in her fist. Mina took another bite, the meat cooler now. Laughter drew her forward and brought her to stage show; a jester in motley danced on stage and juggled knives. He joked with the audience as he did. It was a bawdy juvenile kind of humor that adults understood but children still laughed at.
The joke caught Mina by surprise and she laughed around a mouthful of turkey, coughing as some started down the wrong pipe. The corners of her eyes prickled with tears and she felt her face redden as she coughed the bit of meat into her palm.
Glancing to the person she found herself beside. “Almost died there.” She said, and chuckled through her embarrassment.