‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹
‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹
The morning sun slipped through the silken curtains of Shiva's home, casting long golden beams across the polished stone floor. Outside, birds called lazily, the air still tinged with the perfume of last night's festivities. [Name] stirred slowly, cocooned in the softest blankets she'd ever felt, the scent of something sweet drawing her from the warmth of sleep.
She blinked awake and found Parvati already up, kneeling near a low clay stove with her sleeves tied up and flour smudged across her cheek.
"You're awake," Parvati smiled over her shoulder, golden eyes bright. "Come help. The others will be hungry soon."
[Name] yawned and padded over, still in soft silks Kali had given her the night before. Her hair, usually carefully pinned or tucked away, fell freely behind her in shimmering waves. Parvati handed her a wooden bowl and a mortar and pestle.
"Ginger and cardamom. Fresh. Crush them — not too fine, just enough to make the scent bloom."
[Name] nodded and got to work. The smell hit her like a memory — warm, grounding. She hummed quietly to herself as the spices released their oils, the rhythm of crushing soothing her hands and mind alike.
Soon, Durga wandered in, a sleepy but alert presence, carrying a basket of vegetables and herbs.
"I brought those weird beans you like, Parvati," she said, placing them down. Then she glanced at [Name] with a slight smirk. "You cook too?"
"I... dabble," [Name] replied modestly.
Parvati snorted. "Don't let her fool you. She made a custard tart that made Buddha go silent for an entire five minutes."
Durga raised an eyebrow. "Impressive."
Soon, Kali joined, hair unbrushed and a little smoke clinging to her, already munching on a fried dumpling she must have stolen from somewhere.
The kitchen came alive with color and motion. Parvati kneaded dough for flatbreads while [Name] shaped spiced dumplings with steady fingers. Durga roasted root vegetables over open flame, her control so precise the skins crisped perfectly without charring. Kali grated a mountain of cheese with feral speed and then started slicing fruit with a dagger, just because it was more fun.
It was chaos. Beautiful, fragrant, loving chaos.
Shiva wandered in mid-morning, sniffing the air like a wolf. "Is it safe to enter or will I lose a hand again?" he asked, eyeing Kali.
"You'll lose your plate if you don't help," Parvati said sweetly, tossing him an apron.
He caught it with a grin and joined in, mostly to stir pots and sneak tastes when no one was looking. [Name] caught him stealing a piece of stuffed bread and flicked water at him, to which he gasped theatrically and clutched his heart like he'd been mortally wounded.
When the food was ready, they carried it outside to the shade of a large banyan tree. The meal was laid out on wide banana leaves — stuffed breads, sweet rice with rosewater, roasted roots, lentil stew, and spiced fruits soaked in honey. The aroma was rich and heady, and soon the small family of gods was seated in a lazy circle, eating with their hands and laughing in the breeze.
[Name] sat between Parvati and Durga, her heart full. For the first time in centuries, she didn't feel like a guest or an outsider. She didn't need to prove anything. She could just be.
As Shiva tore into a mango and dripped juice down his chin, Parvati whispered to [Name], "You're always welcome here."
[Name] smiled quietly, cheeks glowing.
"I think I'll come back often."
‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹
‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹