Returning to No Applause, Only More of the Same

Long forgotten were his days of battle; of rising at dawn, getting so lost in his fight for survival that the concept of eating at certain times was completely lost, falling and falling and falling into his own void of a mind, acting but not thinking.

Now he remembered those days.

He had been cooking food since the crack of dawn, where he had put a large piece of meat in a cold water bath. Then, he had spent an hour or so baking a few circular sponge cakes which he left to cool on a rack. During the few minutes he had before he had to get to work, he whipped up a couple of sauces that could stand in the fridge for a few hours.

His siblings, equally stressed, hurried to clean up the apartment at least somewhat and had likewise forgotten to eat breakfast. To their credit, most of the mess in the apartment was contained within their fantasy-themed bedrooms, so a vast swath of the cleaning was purely on the surface. Regardless, the number of hidden dust-bunnies was both surprising and inhumane.

And then they all had to go to work. It was only a Friday, after all, and taking a day off so suddenly was out of the question.

When they returned again in the evening, Kreig did so with Erica in tow. She was dressed in a sweet little thing that wouldn’t look out-of-place among other teachers at a school, but here in the setting of an apartment, she looked perfectly formal. And perfectly pretty, if Kreig was to give his own opinion.

The time was 15:30. As Kreig prepared to cook as he had never cooked before, Erica joined him in the small kitchen. He wasn’t sure what to tell her. He would love some help, of course (especially from her), but at the same time, he couldn’t afford to have the whole operation hampered by her inability to keep up with him. She soothed his worries. “Don’t worry, I’ll just be fixing the dishes while you do your magic!”

He couldn’t have asked for a better arrangement.

Really, Erica didn’t need to be there so early at all - she was a guest, not a hostess - but she had insisted. Somehow, she considered this to be her fight as well, and Kreig couldn’t find it in him to deny her. He did enjoy her company quite a bit.

So, he turned his attention back to cooking. There was a lot to be done, and the first was to cut up the meat. He did so in a matter of seconds. Then, he placed the meat inside a bowl before creating a small stout marinade, seasoned well, and pouring it inside. After swirling this combination around until all of the meat was covered in the marinade, he placed it in the fridge to marinate for two hours or so. It would have been better had it been allowed to marinate for a bit longer, but he didn’t have that sort of time. Not without using abilities he didn’t want Erica to see, that was.

As Kreig began to wash potatoes right next to Erica (who was washing the knife he’d used moments prior), he couldn’t help but glance over at her. He could still remember how scared she had been the first time they had met. How he’d intimidated her. And yet, she had persisted. In that sense, she was an incredibly brave woman.

But even such bravery could be broken.

Although Kreig valued honesty incredibly highly, although he truly cherished Erica and hated to deceive her, he couldn’t bear to consider the possibility that she might learn who he was; what he had done. Knowing her - knowing how open-minded she could be - she would certainly believe it. She might even act on it.

Kreig clenched his teeth, and in a moment of thoughtlessness, the potato in his grip exploded. He blinked at it for a few seconds, his now empty palm gaping up at him.

“Holy shit,” Erica breathed. Kreig turned to look at her and found the side of her face covered in potato fragments. His heart sank. In his mind, heavy, sharp-footed thoughts scattered about like bustling centipedes, running to and fro, chastising him for his mistake, whispering that this was the end, that he could no longer control his strength, that he could not even keep himself calm when everything was fine and okay and alright, that if he was not alright after all this time that he never would be. That the next time something like this happened, he would hurt someone he loved - if he hadn’t already.

His heart thundered in his ears. His mouth felt dry. All he wanted to do was apologize to Erica, but he found his throat filled with thick, slimy sewage that just wouldn’t go away. “I-,”

“Wow! That’s so cool, how did you-, is there magic involved? Like, was this a trick? No, wait, don’t tell me, you had like a spring installed or something? Or-, or maybe you hollowed out the potato beforehand! Or you’re just really, really strong,” she chirped excitedly, her eyes glittering like jewels. “You should try becoming a strongman! Like, a guy who lifts big rocks? Very impressive. Sometimes, there are documentaries on tv about strongmen, and they could lift lots! What’s the heaviest thing you’ve ever lifted?”

Kreig blinked. He smiled and chuckled to himself. “A suit of armour.”

“Armour? Armour…” She thumbed her lip for a few seconds. “Don’t those weigh, like, a lot?”

Kreig felt his smile deepen. He grabbed a towel and wiped the edge of her face, removing the potato mash. Her cheeks reddened slightly. “Of course. Much more than you.”

For a second or so, she didn’t reply, just looking at him with those same, glittering eyes. Then she glanced away, her cheeks turning even redder. “Heh, yeah, that’s… Not that I’m all that heavy, so… So it doesn’t mean much! I think.” Her brows furrowed and she seemed thoughtful. “So, if you can lift an armour, and I weigh less, then you should theoretically be able to lift me?”

Kreig gulped. “That would be the logical line of thought.”

She lit up. “Then-,”

“-However, I would loathe to hurt you.” The image of an exploding potato shot through his mind and he winced.

She stared at him blankly, as though his words were pure nonsense. “You won’t hurt me,” she said with the conviction of a kid assured that Santa would come for Christmas. “You can’t hurt me.” She grinned. “I’m protected by the Gods, y’see? Nobody can ever hurt me, not even a super-strongman!”

Somehow, when looking at her tender frame and thin neck, Kreig couldn’t help but doubt that. “I would rather not take the chance.”

She pouted adorably. “Aw, come on! The last time anybody ever lifted me was my momma! The faster you do this, the faster we can get back to work, you know?”

Kreig glanced down at the potatoes in the sink. He still had quite a few to do. He heaved a deep sigh. “Very well then.” He looked down at his hands, rough and firm with callouses. Still covered in potato-gunk. Not wanting to tarnish her dress, he washed and dried them before turning back to her. She smiled up at him, hands on her hips. The image of a woman winner.

He clenched and unclenched his hands a few times. He took a deep breath and placed both of his hands on her sides as though he was going to dance with her. She jerked a little, but before he could pull back his hands, she gave him a thumbs up. Trying his best to be as gentle as one could possibly be, he lifted her up like a cat, either hand under her armpits. And for a few seconds, she just hung in the air staring blankly at Kreig’s face. “...Cool,” she choked out.

Realizing that being held underneath your arms like a cat was painful for most humans, Kreig tossed her into a regular, non-painful bridal carry. Her arms and legs folded. “Okay, this is really weird,” she admitted.

“Would you like to be let down?” Kreig asked, hoping to God he wasn’t about to make a mistake of some sort. Still, holding her like this was, well, nice. She felt warm, and she didn’t seem to be in any pain.

She shook her head. “No, no, this is… Just a little while longer.” She smiled strangely. “This perspective is really strange, though.”

He had to agree with her on that one. Folding his neck just to get a look at her face felt very strange. For around a minute or so, Kreig just sort of held her. Looking into her fawning eyes, feeling how soft she was. Their heavy breaths seemed to merge. His eyes slowly fell on her plump lips.

Then the front door flew open and George stepped inside. “I’ll get to work on the toilet immediatl-,” His eyes fell on the two of them. “Uh.”

In less than a second, Erica was back on her feet and Kreig had turned back to the potatoes.

George smirked slyly. “So that’s how it is, huh? Well, don’t mind me then.”

Kreig swallowed. Once George had left, he sneaked a peek at Erica again, who was just as red in the face as Kreig felt. They worked in silence. Once he’d washed (but not peeled) the potatoes, he placed them within a pot to boil. While that puttered, he got back to the cakes. He’d never been much for sweets, neither eating nor making, but if pressed he was easily as good as any professional pastry-maker. His only chains were his ignorance of the exact processes.

He got about halfway done with the cake before the potatoes were finished. Turning his attention back to them, he quickly removed them from the stove, cooled them down and cut a series of semi-deep ridges along the side of the potatoes. After seasoning and brushing them with butter, he put them all on a tray and placed them in the oven.

And now, back to the cakes.

But right as he began decorating them, he felt as though someone was watching him. For a brief, panic-filled second he worried that the presence would impose itself even on his most private moments. But then he realized that whoever was looking at him was doing so with the most positive intentions possible. He glanced over his shoulder and found Erica looking back at him.

“Cake,” she breathed wistfully.

He nodded back at her. Right.

Glancing at the sink, he found all the dishes done and stowed away. Lord, she was quick. In that case, he could easily understand her line of thought. She had nothing else to do, after all. And so, while she watched intently with grand focus, he put the finishing touches on the cake. A glance at the clock. 17:45. The potatoes had been in for about a quarter of an hour. In another quarter, people would begin to arrive. He should probably change out of his current clothes, but he should start frying the meat before that point.

So, he removed the marinated meat from the fridge, placed a lob of butter and some fresh rosemary in a pan and placed the meat inside once the butter had started bubbling. That should be able to hold its own for the minute or two that Kreig needed to change, so after telling Erica to keep an eye on it, he left for his room.

When he returned, changed and ready, he found Erica looking very panicked, all the while staring at the sizzling meat. She turned to him, seemingly on the verge of tears.

Kreig wasn’t sure how to respond, so he just took over the meat and asked her to set the table. In reality, Sam was supposed to do that, but she hadn’t gotten home yet. Which was strange, since she usually came home before George. Maybe something had happened? Then again, she was much stronger than most humans, so only a few regular situations could possibly hinder her to such a point where she’d be kept from coming home.

In that case, what if it wasn’t a normal situation? What if a portal had appeared, sucking her in? Or maybe a monster appeared, or there was a hostage situation, or the Empire had caught wind of his escape to Earth and made an invasion in an attempt to finally get him?

Kreig’s eyes fell on Erica. And all of a sudden he felt very much like her.

He shook his head.

Sam would be fine. And even if she wasn’t, he would help her. Whatever happened to her… If he couldn’t save her, he would at least avenge her.

But for now, he just had to finish frying the meat.

George didn’t seem too worried, either. At the moment, he was helping Erica plate the dinner table. Nothing to worry about here.

Right as the clock hit 18, there was a knock on the door. Kreig felt somewhat obliged to greet whoever had arrived, but George was faster.

“Darius, what a pleasure to finally meet you,” George greeted warmly. Kreig leaned over the counter to catch a quick glimpse of the dark-skinned man. He was wearing a stylish suit, carrying a wrapped bottle of what seemed to be pomace.

“Likewise. George, I assume? Kreig has told me so much about you.” He smiled politely. “Nothing bad, of course.”

“Glad to hear it. By all means, come inside. You can hang your coat on the hangers here.”

By that point, the conversation shifted into easy, routine small-talk that Kreig couldn’t really bother to listen to. He was glad Darius had found his way into quick conversation though, since he’d hate for any of his guests to be left without company. Since almost every other aspect of the event had been finished or was almost finished, George didn’t mind sitting down on the couch, inviting Darius to join him as they discussed subjects that went right over Kreig’s head.

After a few more minutes, there was another knock on the door. This time, Kreig was able to open the door himself, greeting Mrs Willowgrove. She wore a luxurious fur coat, her face lit up with extravagant make-up and plenty of jewellery of every sort and make. “Well, don’t you look dashing?”

“Uh, thank you,” Kreig replied, suddenly very aware of how simple his shirt-pants combo looked. Especially compared to her grand outfit. She smiled at him expectantly. For a few seconds, he wasn’t sure what she wanted him to say, but then it came to him all at once. “Oh, uh, you too. You look very… Glamorous.”

She grinned heartily. “Why, thank you! The last time I wore an outfit as beautiful as this one, I easily made all the boys swoon. Oh, you should’ve seen me.”

Shifting into knightly etiquette, Kreig politely took her coat and hung it among the other coats. Sensing where the conversation was the most active, Mrs Willowgrove quickly bid adieu to Kreig before smoothly joining George and Darius on the couch.

Kreig took a deep breath. He felt tired already, even though the party hadn’t fully gotten started yet. Once again, he found himself worrying gently about Sam.

He wanted to ask George about it, but he was currently keeping both of the guests company. Sure, he did have a few skills he could use to contact George without having to walk up to him and interrupt the whole conversation, but doing so with Erica in the room would be a bit…

However, right as Kreig was considering what possible steps he might take, he found George excusing himself from the conversation and walking up to him. “Kreig, could you take Erica on a small walk or something?”

He blinked at his brother. “How so?”

“I need to tell our guests that she… Well, doesn’t know. We can’t have either of them blurt out something telling, can we?”

Kreig pulled his lips tight. “Of course. I’ll gladly distract her.” George nodded in response and prepared to leave. “Although, I must ask… How come Sam has yet to arrive? Has she told you what she is doing?”

George thought for a second before shaking his head. “All she told me was that she’d be a little late tonight, which is pretty thoughtless, but I’m sure she has her reasons. Don’t worry about it and just enjoy yourself, alright?”

Despite this, Kreig couldn’t help but feel a little worried. “Alright.”

He took Erica on a nightly walk.