Bad Blood, Sweat, and a lot of Tears

Wrath patted the cubes of beef dry to allow it to brown properly while pre-heating her oiled ceramic pan to sear them. She had gotten comfortable with moving around the kitchen on her own. Though it was Lust's chore to prepare meals for the house, she would still take every chance she got to play around with her kitchen tools.

Among her favorites were the heat gun, blow torch, and barbeque lighter dedicated for her many flambé experiments. She kept her station clean and tidy as a result of her roommate's years of guidance and teaching; a. k. a. tough love.

Pride, on the other hand, was struggling with peeling the skin off of an onion.

"Hurry it up, will you? The meats are already browning," she grumbled.

"Uh, gimme a sec," he struggled.

"God!" she turned the heat off and rushed to his side. "Watch and learn. We don't got all day. I know I said he'll be in there for a long time. But I'll be of a legal drinking age by the time you're done with this onion if you picked on it like a booger."

She quickly got it done in under a minute while lecturing her friend and handed the knife back to Pride. Her friend watched her in awe as he attempted to replicate her elegant cutting skill. His hands were shaking as he made wonky incisions and crooked multilateral shaped onion chops.

Just like any other knives in their rack, this one was sharpened eloquently for the shake of the user's ease and efficiency. He butchered the onion as fast as he could; regardless of his own safety.

"Here," he brought the chopping board over to the chef as he wiped his teary eyes with his sweaty arm.

Wrath gasped at her friend's clenched fist, "Are you crying?"

"These onions are pretty spicy. Hehe… I'll be fine though. What else do you need me to do?"

"U-um, go wash your cuts. I'll finish sautéing the ingredients and put it in the oven."

The pungent aroma of the cooked onion swarmed and latched to the kitchen walls. Pride ran the sink and held his severely gashed hand under the cold water. He bit his own tongue and lips to prevent his writhes from coming out. The residual poignant essence in his contaminated tears didn't make his situation any better. Before he knew it, he was sobbing over the kitchen sink.

Wrath inserted the Dutch oven and set a timer for three hours. She went over to her friend and covered his eyes and his hand with hers.

"Sana," she casted a healing spell.

The tap water glowed at her touch and miraculously disappeared into thin air. She turned it off and told her friend to open his eyes. Her friend's amateur behaviors and wounds reminded her of the days when she would do the same. The only difference was that Lust was a terrifying culinary teacher and she hadn't mastered her water manipulation techniques.

"Woah, w-what happened to the cuts? My vision had cleared up too! When did you learn how to do that?" he declared ecstatically.

"I learned about water healing spells ages ago, but I'd never successfully executed them until recently. Consider yourself lucky."

"I'm glad it is now. You can heal yourself after your reckless benders without worrying us anymore."

"I need water to be readily available at my disposal for it to work, idiot."

"Well, carry a water canteen with you everywhere then," he smirked at his smart comeback.

"You know we have a lot of water here, right?"

"So?"

"That means I can stab you and heal you again repeatedly without killing you," she hissed.

"Woah, okay. I'll go grab the whipping cream and mop the floor."

**********

* DING! *

Wrath put on an old floral-patterned oven mitten and carried the ceramic pot to the countertop; letting it rest over a cooling rack. The smell of the stew filled the air with its rich broth and deep wine aroma. Their equally impressive tub of dessert was chilling in the fridge as it stiffened up. Pride might not have most precise knife skill, but he was definitely better at table setting and garnishing meals.

"Anything else?" he put his hands on his hips.

"You can do the dishes afterwards if you're so keen."

He gulped.

"I'm just kidding!" she smacked his back as she walked by. "Take a seat and wait for your brother."

"Where are you going?"

"The balcony. Just stay there."

"I can come with you, he just started drying up."

"I insist."

With that, the lone wolf greeted her loyal phantom companion who had been waiting for her.

"You're as sharp as ever," Eros complimented.

"That's an exaggeration."

"Oh, come on. Don't be so modest, Master. You know you're way better than you allow yourself to be."

"Yeah, but that's exactly what caused me all this pain in the first place. Isn't it?"

"What do you mean?" a ghastly veil of gloom overshadowed his cheerful aura.

"Cut the bullsh*t Eros."

"Tell me what you're thinking. Don't block your mind from me."

"I can't do this right now. I don't know what I'm feeling, but I think we both know how it's all going to end," she smiled sadly into his reflective eyes.

"Don't do it! It's my job to help you, we made a promise. Remember?"

"I'm sorry."

"Wrath… Please," he begged. "You don't have to walk alone anymore."

"You know what to do."

"Wrath! This is not funny!"

"I'll see you when I see you," a sparkly drop of tear trickled down to the tip of her chin.

A powerful kiss of wind blew over her face; wiping the singular tear away. Her last sentence was a discreet spell she had learnt and practiced over the years of her ghostly encounters. She had developed the ability to open and close her third eye temporarily at will. Her grandmother taught her the spell to help her with scary sighting of demons and spirits as a kid. But she warned her to not overdo it as it might exhaust her spiritual gate and caused it to shut permanently.