Miriam tilts her head as she reads an engraving reading "sour sumac" on the wooden container. "What type of spice is this?"
"Sour sumac," Absinthe replies as if the answer is obvious, "sumac means sweet, so I guess it's technically called sour sweet. It has the most interesting taste; first it tastes sweet then it turns sour."
"Shouldn't it be called sumac sour..? The ordering just feels strange."
"Do you think I discovered sour sumac?"
She frowns as she opens a small container filled with small red rods, similar to pepper. A strange, but enticing aroma wafts out from the box. "And this?"
"Gagia shoots. Place them on top of the meat as it roasts, and all the shoot's juices seep out from it. You could also just eat them on their own, but they're better used as a flavor enhancer."
"What kind of place did you come from?" Miriam asks in slight disbelief as she balances a gagia shoot on the skewer.
"A world less bizarre than yours, honestly. The first cafe that my brother and I ate at had a fountain, right in the middle of the place!"
Miriam chuckles slightly at that before asking, "You and your brother traveled here?"
Absinthe nods his head smiling, "Yep. We're both taking the exam. He's somewhere out there, certainly aiming for that top spot as well."
"What if he's already eliminated?"
"I don't even need to think about it. He's too strong and smart to get eliminated now. But if I had to think… The only way he'd fail is by trying to save someone in the process. He has a strong sense of justice, that guy."
Absinthe deftly threads another piece of meat onto the skewer, the sizzling sounds blending with the distant, eerie calls of the forest.
Miriam, meanwhile, pours some broth into a wooden bowl, steam curling up into the damp air. The cave feels like a hidden sanctuary, a brief respite from the dangers lurking outside.
"Tell me about this justice," Miriam says, her eyes narrowing slightly, curiosity and skepticism dancing in her gaze.
Absinthe pauses momentarily, considering her question. "Justice... for Melchior, it's not just about following the rules. It's about making sure everyone gets what they deserve, no matter the cost. He's got this.. this stubborn belief in fairness, even when the world isn't fair at all," Absinthe continues, his voice carrying a touch of admiration.
He hands Miriam the skewer, and she takes it with a nod, her eyes never leaving his face.
"Sounds like he's got a lot on his shoulders," she remarks, taking a bite of the meat. The flavor seems to bring a momentary brightness to her otherwise serious demeanor.
Absinthe watches her with a thoughtful expression. "He does. But he wouldn't have it any other way. Melchior always thinks he can make a difference, no matter how impossible it seems."
Miriam chuckles softly.
"What about you?" She asks curiously, "what is your Justice?"
Absinthe leans back, the cave's rough stone pressing against his back as he considers Miriam's question. He watches her for a moment, then looks into the fire where shadows dance across his face. "Well," he begins, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, "I believe in a different kind of justice. One that isn't about morality or fairness. It's about survival. Outsmarting the system, taking what's needed, and making sure I stay ahead of the game."
Miriam nods thoughtfully, a twinkle of amusement in her eyes. "Practical. Realistic. And yet, here we are, in this madness, facing off against magical spiders. How's that for practical?"
Absinthe chuckles, accepting her point. "I suppose even a realist like me can't predict everything. But that's what makes this challenge intriguing, right?"
From the shadows of his palm, a flower pops out. It's the same one he plucked from the gardens of his manor. Its petals swirl like a whirlpool of violet.
The flower radiates mana, flourishing brightly, an effect from residing in his shadows. It was only a bud just a few days ago.
"Gods, you even have flowers I don't recognize. What's that?"
"Ovibrosa. It's a delicate little plant. I just brought it along as a token of home."
The ovibrosa falls back inside his hand, disappearing from view. He looks at the meat skewer in his other hand and smiles.
Bringing it to his mouth, he blows onto it before taking a bite. The juices drip down the corners of his lips.
"Is it good?" Miriam asks, still cooking her food.
"Real fresh," he nods with a smile.
She seems satisfied with that answer as she continues cooking her skewer.