Stolid Eats Chocolate

non-canon non-canon non-canon non-canon non-c

Somewhere within the membrane walls of a rather disturbed mind sits a pale white figure, holding a leather bag that looks to be falling apart at the seams and clad in a robe of washed-out grey. Long strands of dirty white fur cover and dangle around its insectoid face from its furry, elf-like ears, and two yellowed fangs are pushed out from its lumpy line of a mouth. On its head perches four lit yellow candles, and the four flames are the only light that the grey cougar can see when he steps through the mist and begins to move through the squelching muck under his paws. Disgusting, he thinks to himself. The figure has its back to him, but the cougar can clearly see the candles burning brightly upon its head. Hot wax oozes down from the candles and sticks to its fur, which clumps together in unsightly yellow lumps as it dries.

Slowly, he approaches, eyeing the frayed strap on the ground next to the thing. He pauses and raises one of his front paws to reach into the folds of his navy blue cloak, and as he does so, the figure's head suddenly jerks back, and the cougar freezes as it fixes him with four wide, green, slit-pupil eyes.

"Welcome," the figure says. The cougar says nothing. He instinctively tenses when the thing stands up and turns towards him, carrying a patchy leather bag in his hands.

He holds the bag out towards the cougar. "Take it," he says. The cougar does not.

"Please," he says, then, as an afterthought, adds, "My name is Mooncalf."

"I don't accept gifts from people like you," the cougar replies stoically.

"How come?"

"It could be something dangerous, of course."

Mooncalf considers this. "Okay, I'll show you what's inside."

The cougar quickly reaches inside of his cloak again. "Please don't."

Mooncalf sticks one hand inside the bag and pulls out a thin, rectangular object, wrapped in blue paper. The cougar sniffs the air, cautiously, and notes that the package smells faintly sweet.

"It's food," says Mooncalf, noticing the cougar's stony expression, though that could mean any number of things. "You should try it."

"What sort of food?" The cougar eyes the package. He does not care for sweet things, and never has, and never will.

He steps back when Mooncalf drops the bag and begins to peel back part of the wrapper. "Good food," Mooncalf says. "Important food. Culturally impactful food. Wealthy food. Food made of golden coins."

"I don't have pica, so I believe I'll pass."

"No," says Mooncalf, tearing away the top of the wrapper to reveal an orderly row of rich brown squares. The cougar jerks away when Mooncalf holds it out to him. "You misunderstand, Ridgedale."

The cougar remains silent, though on the inside he is startled. Perhaps Mooncalf is some sort of mind-reader, though the cougar has willfully locked that name away in the deepest recesses of his memory, and had not been thinking about it at all today. Or this week, or this month, or this year.

"This is an important food," Mooncalf continues. "Your people have not discovered it yet. It is fashioned from cacao beans, which grow only in the lands east of the Pretori Sea. Your people abandoned those lands, and you abandoned the animals still there, but not for long. Soon, you will return, as your people always have and always will. You will find the cacao and harvest it and discover that it makes something quite delicious."

"How do you know that?"

"Because I made you," Mooncalf replies simply, "and I made your world."

The cougar says nothing for a few moments. "So," he says finally, "what is that?"

"Chocolate." Mooncalf stares at the exposed row of dark brown squares. "This kind is called milk chocolate. It's sweet, and it's good. You should have some."

"I'm not here to eat your shocklit."

"Chocolate. And don't say that you don't accept food from people like me. You drank the cypress tea that Cosmogram offered you and Marigold, didn't you?"

The cougar flinches. He struggles to regain a grip on his composure. This is a simple mind-reader, that's all, he thinks. ''Stop it. It's a simple mind-reader who can access one's memories. Surely you've encountered them before. You've seen worse.'' But something about Mooncalf feels different. He makes the cougar feel queasy and lightheaded. Perhaps this is another ability, he thinks. ''Quickly, now. There isn't much time left.'' His mind races. "And how do you know that that happened," the cougar says, weakly.

"Because I made you," Mooncalf repeats. "I made all of them." With two fingers, he snaps a square off of the chocolate bar, and offers it to the cougar. "Have it."

"I'm not here to eat chocolate," the cougar protests. "I'm here to--"

"Eat," Mooncalf insists.

"I'm here--"

"Eat."

"I'm here to--"

"Eat."

"I'm--"

"Eat."

''"Fine!" ''the cougar snaps a little too loudly, snatching the dark square. He stares at it for a few moments.

"It will melt if you hold it for too long," Mooncalf says. "Even in here."

"Even in here?"

"Yes."

"Where am I?"

"If you eat the chocolate, I will answer every one of your questions, Ridgedale."

The cougar's spine is tingling. The temptation is too great. ''It's a lie. It must be.''

But how did he--

The cougar shoves the piece of chocolate into his mouth. It sits on his tongue for a moment before he remembers to chew, and he moves it towards his teeth and does so-- once, twice, three times, then gulps it down.

It's sweet. Too sweet.

The cougar decides he does not like chocolate.

"So," Mooncalf says. "Now I will answer your questions."

"I don't have any questions. I just need to..." He hesitates.

''One. Just one.''

"Okay," the cougar says slowly. "I have a question."

"I know."

The cougar stares at Mooncalf. He's not sure which pair of eyes to look into.

"You know, I couldn't... when I... I couldn't... when we were fighting that thing, I couldn't save--"

"I know."

"...does he forgive me?"

Mooncalf smiles. It's an ugly, ugly smile, and it looks as if it is on a face that was never meant to smile, but the cougar finds a very strange comfort in its odd shape.

"Of course he does."

The cougar falls silent.

"Okay," Mooncalf says brightly, "what was it that you were going to do?"

The cougar takes out his dagger. Mooncalf blinks.

The cougar looks at Mooncalf. "What, you egg?" He stabs him.

Mooncalf dies.