Sylvia sighed inwardly and attempted a forkful of her eggs; she barely withheld the urge to spit them across the room. What could Uncle Albert have possibly put in these to make them so bitter? Zombie or not, he was usually a fairly decent cook. A bite of the buttered toast on her plate elicited the same effect, tasting more like moldy bread topped with curdled milk. Sylvia scanned the table and found everyone else gorging themselves on the unpalatable cuisine. The issue of having a tongue ready to flee for safety seemed to be hers alone.
“So tell us, Ian,” Deigen chewed down a mouthful of bacon before continuing, making Sylvia cringe at the thought of what any sort of meat would taste like. “From our vantage point, you appeared through some sort of portal. What did your end of those travels look like, what were you doing prior to arriving here?”
Ian ceased his own chewing as though he needed to take a moment to recollect exactly how he found himself as a breakfast guest in another world. “I was fiddling around in my bedroom, getting ready to go out. I’d just put my shoes on when this weird light started shining from inside my closet.” He shrugged and took a sip of his water. “I didn’t really know what to think of it, so I walked in to get a closer look. When I tried to walk back out, I was here.”
V rose a brow at him. “Do you often stroll into strange, inexplicable lights that appear in your closet for no reason?”
Ian shook his head, shrugging again. “Don’t think I’ll be doing that again anytime soon.”
“Yes, I believe that sounds like wise action to avoid,” agreed Gwendoloena with a sympathetic smile. Her smile dissipated quickly upon spying Sylvia’s still very full plate. “You’re still not feeling well, my dear?”
Sylvia pushed the food around with her fork. “I’m fine. Just not very hungry.” A tug at the bottom of her skirt told of Obmuj’s arrival to breakfast;she was only too happy to give into his begging and hand off the inedible toast. A final try of the eggs only confirmed they still tasted like they were several months past their time. Resolved to the fact this would have to be a very liquid breakfast, she took a large gulp from her glass of water. In an instant, Sylvia spat out both the remnant of her egg’s and the sour filth she’d tried to wash them down with.
Poor Ian blinked several times at the remainder of his meal, now adorned with the spewed mouthful. He slowly pushed his plate away to the center of the table. “Think I’m done with breakfast now, thanks.”