InsaneJournal

No milk today. My love has gone away.
What: Madame Spinster's home baked cookies.
Who: Breacan and Eothian.
Where: 'Hell'.
When: Now.
Rating: G.
Word Count: 913.
Note: Un’beta as usual.

(Meta knowledge. Unless your muse knows.)


Madame Spinster sent us home-baked something cookies?!


Breacan was thirty. Eothian twenty two. In Immortal years, both men were over nine hundred years old. Right at this particular moment, if any one else was watching them, they would swear both men were under the age of eleven.



“You do it.” Said Eothian.

“Oh, no. You do it.” Said Breacan, pushing the tin of home-baked cookies back into Eothian hands.

“No way. She baked them for you, you eat them.” Eothian pushed the tin back towards Breacan.

“I am not the one who wants to eat them.” Argued the captain, as he tried to shove the tin back in the lieutenant’s hands.

Eothian pursed his lips. Tussled with the Breacan, the cookie tin, and won as the tin was put back into Breacan’s hands.

“I only want you to test one.” Eothian complained as he eyed off the tin contents with longing.

“Do I look stupid to you?” Asked Breacan. He eyed the baked cookies with a mix of longing and disgust.

The tin remained in Eothian’s hands who was looking wistful, “Wish we had some real honest to god, milk. Not that watered powered shit.”

Breacan sighed and groaned, “Chocolate milk. Ice cold.” The tone of his voice caressed the first words as if they were the name of his lover.

Eothian sulked, “Shut up. Just try one; we can eat them without the milk.”

“No. I refuse to go back to the infirmary.” Both Breacan and Eothian looked at the tin contents, home baked cookies made especially for Breacan by Galway Bay’s wealthy spinster. While the smell of the cookies was wonderful, the appearance was not. The cookies looked liked they could be very tasty, except for one small detail which turned Breacan green as he looked---cat hairs. Every single cookie in the tin had visible cat hairs in them, so much so, they actually looked furry. Breacan knew cookies,

“Cookies should not look furry, Eothian.” He complained.

“We can eat around the hairs.”

He eyed Eothian, Breacan couldn’t blame the lieutenant for wanting to eat them; he wanted to eat them too.

“No.” Said Breacan firmly.

“Yes.” Said Eothian with equal firmness.

“Blast-it, Poseidon.” Snapped Breacan as he stalked around the area, stopped, looked at the tin contents with longing and swore again. “He did this on purpose allowing the bloody tin to come in. He is out there, knowing full well this will encourage the woman.”

Eothian watched the captain, who continued on.

“He interferes in what is closest to my heart, railroads it to the point I must force myself to not desire her. And yet, he allows this ridiculous courting attempt. What bloody game is he playing now?”

Eothian tried to lighten the atmosphere.

“Who the hell cares? We have cookies, real honest to god cookies. C’mon, let’s eat them.”

Breacan pursed his lips, eyed the cookies and figured why not; right then he needed comfort food. Even cat-hairy cookies would suffice. Who cares if he ended up in the infirmary?

The lieutenant looked hopeful, “Yes?”

Just as Breacan was about to say yes, a scuffling, growling sound could be heard. Both men whirled around swords drawn, ready for battle. At the sight of the creature, they backed off slightly. It was one of the more harmless ‘eaters’, technically if one did not poke it, it did not retaliate back. The thing usually went on its way, eating. It was actually known as the garbage disposal creature, as it ate everything.

Eothian eyes grew wide. Breacan watched him nervously, he knew that look and half the time it scared him. Eothian thinking was never a good thing.

“What?” Said Breacan warily.

“Give me one of those cookies.” Replied the lieutenant holding out his hand. Breacan gingerly handed one over. He watched confused as Eothian tossed the cookie to the creature. Both men instantly ducked down behind a sandbank and peeked over the top. The creature, moved towards the offering, sniffed it and scooped it up, munching on it. Swallowed it and belched.

Eothian grinned at Breacan,

“It’s still alive…” Just as he said the words, the creature, gagged, shuddered and fell to the ground looking all the world like it had died. Eothian stared. At that exact moment the creature revived, shivered, yowled, opened its mouth and begged for more.

Eothian tossed it another cookie and the exact same thing happened, the creature gagged, shuddered and fell to the ground, only to shortly revive itself again, begging for more cookies.

Breacan stared, open mouth, dropped the tin of cookies like it was burning hot. Eothian backed off from the tin,

“Holy shit.” Said Eothian.

“And you wanted me to eat them.” Breacan said, with eyes wide and a pale pallor tingeing his skin.

“Could be just how they affect that particular creature.” Eothian sounded dubious.

“I am not bloody willing to discover the truth.”

The creature by now was yowling loudly for more, and advancing threateningly. Breacan scooped up the tin tossing the full contents, including the tin, to the beast. He and Eothian moved off running, all the while Eothian kept saying: “Holy shit”.

That night in the privacy of his own tent, Breacan wrote an appropriate thank you note to Galway Bay wealthy spinster. He was careful to remain truthful as he could.

Dear Ms. Hildgard O’Shea, Madame.

Thank you for the gift.

Your home baked gift was well received by the locals.

Regards, Captain Breacan.