Level 8 Zilat
Modifications: +3 Withstand, +3 Resist, +4 Cooking
Injuries: 3, Wounds: 3, Anguish: 3
Traits: Driven. Grounded. Warm.
You can still remember the first time you realized food was art. You were eight (no, must have been nine), scavenging for food scraps in the Hollows, and you found a half eaten lavender crème brûlée in the gutter, likely discarded from the window of a passing limousine. Vislae and those who consort with them occasionally tore through that area on their way to the Fartown Arch. It seemed to you like a pearl glistening among the muck of an otherwise lightless seabed, beauty placed here for your eyes alone.
You only got a small taste before a roachgoblin snatched the rest from you and you were forced to flee, but oh that flavor! Like a hundred brass bands playing under the starlight while your lover spins you into a gentle embrace. That night you couldn’t sleep for want of it, and found yourself sitting on the floor of your hovel, staring into your open palms in a sort of daze. That taste! That presentation! You had never imagined such excess.
Someone had crafted that food not for nutrition, but for excitement, pleasure, titillation. They made it because they could. Truly that, that must be the meaning of freedom. You found yourself beginning to hallucinate, imagining that you were holding a crème brûlée that glimmered like starlight. The saccharine smell, the cold weight of the white porcelain serving bowl in your hands… you were snapped from your reverie the moment you took a bite. This was real. You. You had made this. Made it with magic. A magic all your own. You were a zilat, magically talented.
The rest, as they say, is history. It turned out you could only make gourmet food, which irritated the owner of the greasy dive bar where you got your first job, but it was fine by you. News of your craft (especially your signature cream sauces) trickled all the way back to The Marquis Quarter, and you were personally offered a position at The Magniloquent Moth by one of the Illianitas sisters. Living where the streets are literally made of gold has its perks, but you never forgot where you came from. You send a box of pastries and sweetmeats to the shelters and homes for foundlings in the Hollows and Rivenhome each week.
Conjure dish (zilat magic): A single serving of fabulously decadent food appears before you, fully dressed and plated. It can be similar to any food you have ever tasted, or something from your imagination.
GM Shift: A taste of one of Salinday’s creations puts a PC in a sublime state of comfort and removes 1 Anguish.Related Suns
Written by Voidlight