Valkyrie of Desire

13. Bar Fight

When chaos reigns

The best storyteller wins

—Krieg Charleton

Disappointment can be a badge of honor for whores. Hildr has been wearing it as long as she can remember.

Poppyseeds dot muffins, jams leak out of flaky pastries, and an assortment of vibrant produce fills the silver platter on the table. She stands up from the bed and her stomach curls. The fruits and roots have been sliced and carved with artistic care, and leafy greens are arranged along the edges like a verdant lion's mane.

Hildr shivers. All plants? This meal is a donkey kick to her gut. If she does not get a real meal soon, she will kill someone.

On the other side of the food, Agastache smiles up at Lowman. "Darling, please pass along my appreciation. This is gorgeous. The kitchen has outdone themselves."

The woman's towering lover blushes. If he had a tail, it would be wagging.

Hildr rolls her eyes. "Yeah. Thanks, Lowboy. It's almost too pretty to eat."

The druidess motions to Hildr. "Go on, girl. Help, yourself. A full belly should settle your nerves."

"Hold on, Ma'am. Let me repeat. Where's the meat?"

The large woman laughs, her sagging tits jiggling like sacks of jelly. "Sorry. I'm on a diet."

There is a pitcher of water and a pot of tea, but no milk to wash away the tang of dirt. Nothing of animals is present.

Hildr smiles as if a potato peeler is going across her face. Hospitium matters. She pokes at a muffin as Apple hurries over. She points at an apple, but he reaches past it to a pastry. He will die fat.

Lowman fills a plate with a little of everything and offers it to Agastache. She pats his arm and places it on her wide lap. With alacrity, he shovels a pile of produce onto a his own plate and stands by her.

Hildr sighs at the odd couple and her pretend husband as they eat. They chomp and groan like grazing sheep.

Apple shuffles up to her and says in her ear, "It's looking weird that ya aren't eating. Ease up on this carnivore kick. It's not like you're a berserker."

"Yeah, but I try to eat like one."

He snags another pastry. "Why?"

Hildr covers her mouth and leans close to the old man. "At first, it was an act of rebellion. There was a berserker I wanted to stay connected to past my demigoddess's mission timeline."

Apple chews and grumbles an encouraging noise.

She says, "After I burned fat for a while, I found endurance and mental clarity that I'd never had before."

"Whoever this chef is, he is a master baker." Apple wipes his mouth. "Aren't you hungry?"

Hildr's stomach snarls. "Sure."

Her need grows as shadows inch across the floor. When the sun starts to set, she squishes a piece of pastry bread in her hand and flicks it aside. Her plate is as empty as her stomach, and her abdomen throbs with her heartbeat.

Apple groans, having stuffed himself with pastries, muffins, and sweet potatoes. Agastache snores, chin resting on her ample chest, and Lowman slumps against her chair, spinning his empty plate.

She says, "I need to go."

Lowman yawns and rolls his plate towards her. "Eat."

She slaps the dish aside, and he stands with a smirk.