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[For a moment, Alucard considers the wisdom of moving to a different place to sit. The couch maybe, which is much more comfortable than two kitchen chairs trying to bridge out and reach each other. But he can feel something damp on his neck, and he wants to afford Jaskier the politeness of providing the full quiet he clearly needs.

So Alucard settles for stroking his friend's hair, pointedly ignoring the sensation of something feathery in it. Probably just Mog fluff.]

We are. You've met us, right?

[At least the concept has done it's job in the short term. That's all Alucard cares about.]

I can do that. I also think that filling I just had would be wonderful in crispy fried dough.

I have.

[Both of them, for far too long. He knew Geralt from the Continent, knew him most of Jaskier's lived life, but now with these memories, he sees so little difference in knowing Adrian and knowing those from his past.

After a nod, he gathers himself, rubbing his now reddened face. He may have once been a god, but he is still so strikingly human right now.

Luckily, he is not without handkerchief. It clears up his face as Jaskier gathers all that he is again: human, and one with an unfathomable amount of knowledge of plants and cooking.]

You're utterly right. And now that you're here, I can trust myself with hot oil. [He squeezes Adrian's hand again, carefully letting him go.] Are there any other herbs I should add? A hint of fried sage on top, perhaps?

[This can help. Cooking with company. And Alucard has always been an easy presence. After, maybe, he can ask about other things -- how Alucard is coping (it's only fair), how their hidden little safehouse fares.]

Then you know that the type of weird and baffling I share with Geralt is a fairly even match to the colors of our friendship. Nothing about this should be surpr-- well, no. The self-cannibalism is still a surprise.

[It's all lightness and gentle laughter threaded through the words, giving Jaskier the time and the grace to gather himself up properly. Alucard waits until the handkerchief is lowered before continuing.]

I think fried lemon thyme would be better, just because the filling is already so earthy. If you wanted fried sage, I'd consider a more lemon heavy filling. Perhaps lemon and a soft cheese? Or we could do a savory blueberry jam and then add the fried sage to the top of that.

[This? This is comfortable. Familiar. Bouncing creative ideas off of each other, except it's only the culinary that matters right now. Maybe that's safest for them both. Artistic without being the arts they are associated with, and a hair more practical to boot.]

[Alucard catches himself before Jaskier can correct him. Yes, the self cannibalism is still quite a surprise. He does know, however, that Geralt and Alucard have always had a... strange relationship. Since its strained beginnings.

(Somehow it's relieving to remember that now.)]

Oh. Yes. Yes, lemon thyme. A good option. [He doesn't need to take notes because his brain is already working overtime to remember these. For all his criticisms (which aren't much to be fair; Jaskier is just a sensitive sort) he has plenty more good ideas.] We'll do all of them.

[The jam will take a bit longer, but he can grow the blueberries while he zests the lemons. Easy. Jaskier gives Alucard a pot, brushing its round edge with a finger as lemon thyme begins growing from it. He no longer needs to even guess if he knows the correct plant.] I'll get some dough going for you to help fill.

[And it's easy. This is human: the making of food, the dipped spoons into sauces to test their acidity, and the way they move around each other in the Witcher house kitchen. They've been here before, and it is not a memory surrounded by centuries.

After a little time, Jaskier stills, putting down his freshly grown blueberry bush (potted, and neatly trimmed) to wipe his brow. He takes a breath, leaning against the counter.] How are you? You went out into the desert for a while?

[He can ask. He mustn't be selfish. He is hardly the only one to suffer. And that inclination... he fully understands it now.]

We'll need space to do all of them.

[Which means that for now, Alucard's focus is on packaging up ravioli and placing them on pans, then moving the pans into the freezer. It is a slow, methodical thing that involves making sure all of the same flavor dough is together, everything is spaced out, and then it goes into the freezer.

It takes time. Alucard won't discuss wiping up the flour until they've gotten through the dough. All of it is remarkably comfortable. Familiar.

He's standing at the cabinets when Jaskier asks, examining the spice options and contemplating if any should go into the jam.]

I did. It...I needed it. [He takes out a cinnamon stick, giving it a good sniff.] And I do my best emotional thinking when I'm not a person. What I concluded was that I, personally managed those 800 years well enough. The idea of becoming a deity is something I hated and still hate - you were right by the way - but more than that, it isn't something everyone is well equipped for. Then I became angry regarding everyone else's emotions being used like that, the entire situation with Viktor, and then....I just realized that the anger was misdirected.

I'm furious with those in charge for doing that to us. Marching us out, not giving us any idea of what to expect, none of it. Then acting as if this was all fine. That is unacceptable, and right now, that's where my emotions have firmly landed.

[He exhales softly.] But ask me in a week. I may have shifted my emotion by then.

All right, fair.

[Alucard puts it in a matter-of-fact way that hardly rattles him now. He is quite aware the kitchen has become the sight of a murder (of several bags of lour). He's like to buy Cadens out of its supply with enough time. Lucky that he has plenty of coin to do so, if he likes, which he does like. Until this feeling goes away.

He sets the lemon thyme near a window to give it room to spread.

He holds his breath, waiting for Alucard's answer. It's... it's much more positive than he was afraid it would be, honestly. Not being a person feels like running, to Jaskier -- not for Alucard, but for himself -- when he has gotten through so much without magic.

Now... he should have considered the option more.

He nods, quiet. Viktor's situation was certainly a unique one.]

"You are us. You are not theirs." [The final message. He rubs his hands on his shirt, realizing he should have used an apron this entire time. Alas.] I'm honest when I say I'm not even sure what we can do about it anymore. And if it comes true... will it matter what we do now? When these people, alive now, will be dust in our past? [At least his voice doesn't waver anymore as he speaks.] I have this anger, too. And I don't know what to do with it.

The one thing that gets to me... [He comes over, taking Alucard's hand: raising it between them, to have that finger that he notices is now only bone into the sunlight.] We brought pieces of it with us. Making it all the more real.

[Alucard likes having a task. He especially likes it when discussing emotions, so the act of organizing and starting to get everything packaged and into the freezer is absolutely perfect. He finds paper and starts to write down what the filling of each batch happens to be. In happier times, this would count as absolutely normal. It is a steadying touch stone unlike anything else either of them have at the moment, and Alucard suspects they're both keenly aware of that fact.

He keeps talking as he works.]

If it matters is one of the things that angers me. I still recall a conversation with one of them about....everything....and they remarked that this thing is inevitable. I don't want to believe it, but everything with this situation, last year's cult kidnappings, the strange changes we've gone through every so often? I think it may be correct, and Jaskier I hate that. [He opens the freezer door, puts a few sheet pans inside, then closes it.]

This place gave me the chance to define myself away from my father, away from his death. To actually have time to figure out myself in the face of loss. And so to be defined by others again not for a lifetime but for centuries and not be able to change it? That's unacceptable and infuriating in ways I can't articulate but that go down to my very core.

[He exhales slowly as Jaskier takes his hand. The bone is not bone. Alucard tilts his hand slightly so that the finger rotates. It isn't the color of bone. It is glass, and it catches the rays of the sun coming in from the windows. There's a shift in the colors and they glow warm and sunny - the feeling of a bright afternoon in late spring.]

Far too real.

One of the gods?

[He pales, a little. It isn't Alucard's fault; it's something that's been on his mind. Contacting one of them. Making sure they... that what happened to them was as real as the memories he gained of the Continent.

Inevitable.

As a wordsmith, he knows well the weight of words. This one feels insurmountable.

He does not wish to be crushed under this, or to watch Adrian crushed by it. He always knew he would live for centuries; Jaskier had settled in another thirty years, if he was quite lucky (insanely lucky, one might say, considering the things he got into.)

They cannot both drown.]

Better than a soup rib.

[He bumps his forehead against his friend's.] You manage to make it look beautiful.

Innominate. It wasn't on purpose I assure you, they simply appeared one day while I was alone with my thoughts. There's other details too, but I'm not sure that we need to dwell on them now.

[He closes the freezer door shut so he can take stock of what remains on the tables. There's a soft sigh. At least it comes with a soft laugh because everything about the soup is just so silly.]

I wouldn't mind if the rib just stayed inside of me. It's this externalization, all these...outside bones....that's the problem.

[With Jaskier's forehead against his, Alucard pauses. There's something else he has been thinking about with the passage and the sudden snap of time, and frankly, there's something else he should say.]

The only good thing I am walking away with is I know who can be a stable source of support in my life. Constant. Unwavering. And you were and very much are that, Julian. I think you have some idea of how much that means to me.

[The next part is still a little nerve wracking, but only because before, it had not been real. Alucard leans in and puts his lips to that of his friend's gently, aware that this is no shared vision.]

[Normally Jaskier might be inclined to strangle anyone who would drop something like that on him then insist they needn't dwell on it, but right now, he actually nods. He's not sure how much he could take at the moment, and imagining Alucard with all his bones and stained glass casually talking with another god is too much.]

I imagine I would not be quite happy to have my bones on the outside, either.

[At least beyond his teeth. But those belong there.

The icebox gives its normal little groan, and for a handful of seconds it is enough to be in his kitchen, all too human, with a friend he had when he was all too human. There is nothing new to this outside the quantity of what he's working with (and thousands of tomes of knowledge on botany in his head.)

Then Alucard kisses him.

For a kiss, and for how many Jaskier has had, it surprises him. Was his talking of soup and bones so attractive? Yet, he thinks, they did this, too. Many, many times. And he never failed to kiss his friend back... even with his fangs.

He can hardly fail to do so now.

Jaskier's eyes stay closed, his breath a hint stilted. A buzz upon his lips.] I shall remain your faithful friend no matter how much time is ahead of us.

[Outside bones are not an ideal situation. But right now, who cares about outside bones?

The kiss is as normal as it was int the 800-years-that-weren't. Softer from Alucard's end yes, with a little more trepidation, but that's nuance. Details that don't matter in the grand scheme of it all, whereas Jaskier's words most certainly do.

There is a soft smile on the dhampir's lips, and he breathes out two words.]

I know.

That's something I would say.

[His laugh is breathless; a kiss is so far from undoing him, yet he feels undone. It is not entirely Alucard's fault. In fact, he feels a bit as if that may be the glue keeping him together at all.

Jaskier kisses him a second time.]

Now keep kissing me in between these batches. We've orphans to feed.

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