[ To handle the family's food is an honor, not a sleight, in this house. The kitchen is centrally located, no way to go up into the House without passing it by, and when the family still lived there was always a witch inside of it, hard at work handling the meat, preparing grand dinners for the family. Qetzi'ah would not let Haran cook in her kitchen even if she wanted to, and so his cavalier statement that we did anything annoys her, she leaves it alone and simply carries on setting up the table.
The table is one of great character, heavy and ancient, its surface dented and scratched with the years, like the scars of a living thing. It is also a table of ghosts. So many empty chairs stand watch over their little farce, like an unseen convocation. There's ignoring it, the huge table and its large chairs and fit claustrophobically into a large side nook, as if to trap those at the table in their places until released.
When all is set in place, Qetzi'ah sits down in a chair that belongs to her, the three of them scattered oddly along the length. She tucks herself behind a cup of tea, not meeting either of their eyes. She had attempted, in her own off-hand way, to warn Brandon off of eating in this House.
This meal will taint him in a way she is not entirely sure he has been foretold of. They still eat the flesh of humankind here, although not nearly so voraciously as they once had. The hill folk they breed and feast off of have almost become prosperous, it's a pity. They aren't as frightened as they should be. ]
hateful dinner catastrophe
The table is one of great character, heavy and ancient, its surface dented and scratched with the years, like the scars of a living thing. It is also a table of ghosts. So many empty chairs stand watch over their little farce, like an unseen convocation. There's ignoring it, the huge table and its large chairs and fit claustrophobically into a large side nook, as if to trap those at the table in their places until released.
When all is set in place, Qetzi'ah sits down in a chair that belongs to her, the three of them scattered oddly along the length. She tucks herself behind a cup of tea, not meeting either of their eyes. She had attempted, in her own off-hand way, to warn Brandon off of eating in this House.
This meal will taint him in a way she is not entirely sure he has been foretold of. They still eat the flesh of humankind here, although not nearly so voraciously as they once had. The hill folk they breed and feast off of have almost become prosperous, it's a pity. They aren't as frightened as they should be. ]
Well. I hope you enjoy it, boys.