The Prey of Truth

The Magic of a Meal

Atticus felt satisfied with Dianthus' explanation of how the afterlife worked. He was grateful that something was being explained to him. Remembering his outburst before, and how he had treated Dianthus, he was overwhelmed by a sudden wave of guilt. Turning to face Dianthus, he opened his mouth to apologise but was cut off by Dianthus.

"Save it. I've gotten over it. Now," Dianthus clapped suddenly, making Atticus jump. "would you like something to eat?" 

At the sudden mention of food, Atticus' stomach grumbled in response, answering Dianthus' question.

Dianthus laughed, an airy, joyful sound. "I guess that answers it. Follow me." 

Turning to the kitchen portion of the room, a thought suddenly entered Atticus' head: 

'Why was Hades making me comfortable when he is just going to dispose of me?'

His internal battle was soon cut off by the sound of Dianthus' voice: "Alright, what would you like?"

"Me?" Atticus said, regretting it immediately.

"Who else? Pick whatever you like, I'm sure the fridge has the ingredients." Dianthus said, already searching for ingredients. 

"Hmm." Atticus thought. There were so many options. He could ask for anything in the world.

 "Spaghetti," he concluded.

Dianthus paused, and then shrugged, continuing to rummage through the fridge.

"What? Is everything okay?" Atticus questioned, scared he had said something wrong.

"No, not at all. Just.. this fridge is endless, and you picked spaghetti."

Atticus shrugged and then whispered, "I like spaghetti."

Dianthus laughed, putting Atticus at ease. "Take a seat, it'll be ready in around thirty minutes."

"Do you want any help?" Atticus asked, feeling guilty that Dianthus was cooking for him.

"Thank you, but I think I can manage spaghetti," Dianthus said.

Atticus pulled out a chair and slumped down in it, the velvet hugging his body. He rubbed his head as he tried to collect all his thoughts once more. He was usually good with mass amounts of information, but this- this was too much. 

"What are you thinking about?" Dianthus asked.

Atticus nearly skyrocketed out of his chair. He had been so preoccupied that he hadn't realised Dianthus was watching him, his hands in his pockets. Atticus glanced behind Dianthus and noticed the spaghetti was already boiling and the sauce had been freshly made.

"How- Wow.. you are a fast cook," Atticus said in disbelief.

"No, you have been sitting in silence for over 20 minutes," Dianthus said as he opened up drawers and started to gather plates and cutlery. "And you are avoiding my question."

"I don't know. Everything, I guess."

"Hmm, and what's everything?" Dianthus asked, placing a plate, cup and cutlery in front of Atticus.

"About this situation, I'm in. It's hard to wrap my head around everything." Atticus said, resting his head on his hand.

"Look, I can't exactly relate to any of this, so I'm not one to talk, but I'm sure that everything will be cleared up soon," Dianthus concluded, walking to set his own side of the table.

"Mm, I hope so." Atticus sighed.

Dianthus walked back to the stovetop and came back with a massive bowl of spaghetti. Serving Atticus first and then himself, he went back to the fridge to get drinks.

"What would you like to drink?" he said, his head poking through the fridge.

"Hmm- Pepsi, please," said Atticus.

Dianthus came back with the drinks: Pepsi for Atticus and liquor for himself. As Dianthus sat down, Atticus took a bite of the spaghetti. His tastebuds exploded with flavour, and his eye widened. Dianthus glanced at him.

"Is it okay?" he asked, tensing up slightly.

"This is the best spaghetti I have ever tasted," Atticus said, through mouthfuls.

Dianthus smiled a smile that made Atticus feel warm all over. "That's good to hear."

They both tucked into dinner. The only sounds that could be heard were the scrapping of cutlery on plates.