For the man who had been a chef before he had become a King it was, perhaps, not entirely surprising that he turned to food as a way to solve problems. A way to find comfort, and happiness, and belonging. A way to care for one's self and others, when his powers as a demigod and a King were insufficient.
"Hmm." He acknowledged the limits of Maea's shifts without, perhaps, agreeing with her. Given how little attention she paid to flavor in her two-legged form, he was not so quick to place the blame on the tongues of birds and cats. He paused at the entrance to the chamber to wait for her to catch up before he swung out into the tunnels, hunching down to avoid bumping his head on the rough protrusions in the roof. "Mushrooms." He glanced over his shoulder at her, a curious tilt to his chin. "And fresher meat." He paused thoughtfully. "And clean water." The rest he could handle with the supplies he habitually carried in his travel pack.
"Hmm." He acknowledged the limits of Maea's shifts without, perhaps, agreeing with her. Given how little attention she paid to flavor in her two-legged form, he was not so quick to place the blame on the tongues of birds and cats. He paused at the entrance to the chamber to wait for her to catch up before he swung out into the tunnels, hunching down to avoid bumping his head on the rough protrusions in the roof. "Mushrooms." He glanced over his shoulder at her, a curious tilt to his chin. "And fresher meat." He paused thoughtfully. "And clean water." The rest he could handle with the supplies he habitually carried in his travel pack.
