02-09-2016, 07:21 PM
The swordsman regretted transforming the turtle into charred dinner, but the rumbling of a Saiyan stomach yearned to be filled. He grabbed the turtle from the bushes, violently decapitated it with his bare hands, started a fire (which took much longer than he'd be willing to admit), and threw the corpse over the flames.
It took over an hour to completely cook—damn thing was over fifteen pounds. The shell collapsed from the body of the turtle in chunks like heavy ash detaching from a cigarette, and slid into the depths of the flame below, exposing the well-done meat underneath. It smelled good, reminding Trunks of chicken almost; but had a rough texture, similar to broiled steak.
He used the nose of his weapon to poke the cooked turtle off of the fire. With his gloved hands, he juggled the island cuisine back and forth, cooling the temperature enough to save the roof of his mouth from blistering burns. He gave it a few blows, and then dived in, eating the belly of the turtle as if it were chicken breast.
A few munches in, the swordsman found himself astonished as too how tasty the amniote was. It had a gamey texture to it, yet also savory. This must have been what it felt like to be Beerus, always discovering new delicacies. It befuddled as to why he hadn't eaten it earlier in life.
With a freshly filled stomach, the swordsman smeared his foot over the fire, extinguishing the flames under his sole. After tucking his weapon back into his trench-coat, he set his eyes to the south.
Peering through fissures in the canopy, the swordsman could depict a change in landscape. Ahead, looming over the trees ominously like the tall wall of an oppressive jurisdiction, mountains cut into the circulation of forestry. Their snow-capped peaks kissed the cloudy sky.
Such a place was bound to hold a relic, Trunks wagered. Time to see what these Guardians are made of.
As if the swordsman needed a reminder of how annoying Teucer's voice was, the old spirit boomed his voice over the island, again. He spoke frantically, warning Heroes to evacuate specific areas related to relics, and the temple; neither applied to Trunks, so he ignored the message.
It took over an hour to completely cook—damn thing was over fifteen pounds. The shell collapsed from the body of the turtle in chunks like heavy ash detaching from a cigarette, and slid into the depths of the flame below, exposing the well-done meat underneath. It smelled good, reminding Trunks of chicken almost; but had a rough texture, similar to broiled steak.
He used the nose of his weapon to poke the cooked turtle off of the fire. With his gloved hands, he juggled the island cuisine back and forth, cooling the temperature enough to save the roof of his mouth from blistering burns. He gave it a few blows, and then dived in, eating the belly of the turtle as if it were chicken breast.
A few munches in, the swordsman found himself astonished as too how tasty the amniote was. It had a gamey texture to it, yet also savory. This must have been what it felt like to be Beerus, always discovering new delicacies. It befuddled as to why he hadn't eaten it earlier in life.
* * *
With a freshly filled stomach, the swordsman smeared his foot over the fire, extinguishing the flames under his sole. After tucking his weapon back into his trench-coat, he set his eyes to the south.
Peering through fissures in the canopy, the swordsman could depict a change in landscape. Ahead, looming over the trees ominously like the tall wall of an oppressive jurisdiction, mountains cut into the circulation of forestry. Their snow-capped peaks kissed the cloudy sky.
Such a place was bound to hold a relic, Trunks wagered. Time to see what these Guardians are made of.
As if the swordsman needed a reminder of how annoying Teucer's voice was, the old spirit boomed his voice over the island, again. He spoke frantically, warning Heroes to evacuate specific areas related to relics, and the temple; neither applied to Trunks, so he ignored the message.