"N, my golden friend," His Zoroark companion began from their resting position. ![]() ![]() It allowed it to feel safe, even when working with fire and knives and pots and pans searing red with heat. It allowed them to have control over its life. Even then, he can tweek and test and try new things. Guided merely by his memory of the recipe. ![]() It made him feel in control, because he was. The rhythmic sound of a knife cutting through vegetables was like music to his ears, a hum rumbling through their chest added to the harmony of the kitchen. The constant click of timers and bubbling of boiling water is what grounded them, eyes flickering about the room to watch over everything he had to. TWs: Near panic attacks, mild dehumanization of self, general ask to tag Under the cut is the first part/chapter of it
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