"I admit I think food is going to be one of those things I'll keep doing even when everything's back to how it should be," he says, as if it's perfectly obvious what he's talking about and Ultimo's already well versed in Ascian history. "It certainly is .. an experience." And one he's happy to indulge in, not so much the drinking water part. They both had unpleasant side effects, but at least food was very tasty!

So he's going to be taking his time with the samples of sandwitchlets.

When Ultimo mentions what he's making, Fandaniel considers the half-constructed altar and tiny variety of plants. Something in his smile changes - he was polite enough before, certainly friendly, but this is something more, and deeply personal. "Yes," and there's a warmth there that hadn't been before, different from friendliness to strangers, this is devotion. Willing, joyful devotion. Tempering is one hell of a drug. "I'm making my God a gift." The little motes of light fade away, the partially constructed obsidian brick held up a little. "He doesn't need such things, and I suppose I don't really either, but it ... it's comforting a little, to make something of my own mind and my own aether, to dedicate to him when I can't continue our other work."

The brick is set on one knee. "Of course, he can't come take it, like one would a normal gift, but I think he'll know it's for him."