Relheim was home to writers of all walks of life. It was even a well known fact that anyone who was anyone in the writing world came to Relheim to live. That wasn’t to say the town was the only home in the world for Writers- no, many writers did their work from where they lived, sure, yes, definitely.
But some of history’s best just felt drawn to the town in a way that went beyond words. A feeling, a call, a sense of destiny driven by the plot narrative. ‘Hehe.’ That was where a certain Lycan woman, a would-be-writer by name Rachel Purchit, found herself after publishing her first novel and becoming an overnight, world wide, house hold name.
She’d just signed the lease on a new apartment, and had decided that her first move would be to go for a serving of the town’s famous mac ‘n’ cheese. There was only one restaurant in town, owned by part of the same family who maintained the large farm that provided food to everywhere in town.
Rachel Purchit didn’t know everything about Relheim’s history, but if she was going to end up living here, she’d definitely have to bone up on it all. After all, what good writer didn’t do their fair share of world building?
“Sorry, but there’ll have to be a wait on the Mac ‘N’ Cheese,” The waiter- a Lycan male who actually looked rather cute- apologized with a bow.
Rachel, thus, was snapped out of her thoughts. “Oh? What’s the problem?”
“Some Lamia merchant with a ratty name screwed up the salt delivery,” The waiter griped, ears turning down in dismay, “he gave us the Pepper Salts meant for another restaurant’s spicy food, and the chef used them by accident in the Mac instead of the regular cheese salts. Whole batch ruined.”
“Ow,” Rachel grimaced. “How long will it take for a new batch to get made?”
“Depending on if we can get hold of who got our Salt delivery? An hour at best,” the waiter shrugged. “If we have to get the Merchant himself to fix it, it could take even longer.”
“I don’t really have too much time to waste today,” Rachel mused on her schedule. She had to be at her new apartment in-order to let the delivery men in so she could actually sleep on her own bed tonight. “I guess I’ll just have to go with the cheese sticks. Those should be fine, right?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” The waiter nodded. “And… May I recommend a house specialty?” He leaned forwards, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial tone.
“What?” Rachel leaned in, close enough to read his name tag. Brian. Cute!
“The ranch dip is especially tasty in combination with them,” The waiter- Brian- winked at her. “It’s my personal favorite. Reminds me of times gone by.”
“Really, now?” Rachel smiled. “That’s a funny coincidence. I happen to love Cheese sticks with Ranch dip!”
Brian laughed, and soon left to deliver her order to the kitchen. When he returned, her lunch in hand, he also gave her the customer copy of the lunch receipt, quite early at that.
Rachel was confused for a moment, until she saw that he’d written a number on the back of the receipt, and just below the number, in a strangely familiar scrawl of handwriting, was a message directed at her.
“Give me a call sometime, we can share some cheese sticks and ranch. -Brian”
Rachel smiled at the thinly veiled attempt at flirting, and made sure to safely place the receipt in her money purse once she’d finished eating and paying for lunch.
Somehow, it tasted even better than she’d imagined.