There existed many things in life that came to Ivy as new and bizarre. Whether it be the feeling of air going in and out of her lungs or the feeling of the morning sunrise on her skin. No wonder Cynthian coveted such a luxury. However, none quite threw her down a rabboot hole as deep as taste did.
Stabby clawy sis said:
The hotdog isn't as good as the hotdogs I liked in my world.
The deep wisdom behind those words Mia once spoke to her finally rang true. No matter how hard she tried, the cafeteria hot dogs tasted remarkably unsatisfying. She almost envied her old self who could eat entire barrels of the cheaply prepared snack. With evolution came a rise in standards. Ivy needed something new to satisfy her heightened cravings.
While it would be easy to stroll into the fanciest restaurant to have a meal, Ivy was thinking farther ahead. They can't keep living off their parents expenses forever. She needed to establish a foothold in her independence. What better way to start than by learning how to make gourmet food on her own?
So, off she went to the downtown pasta plaza. She began her quest to find ingredients, however tame or bizarre the source of such things might be. To an observer she appeared to be a little floette and her parasol flower. A bit out of place in the city's underbellies. However, Ivy's eyes blazed in concentration as she memorized the scenery around her.
"Would you look at that," Ivy muttered, eying a familiar mochi stall. "Isn't that the place I first met Cal?"
Slowly, she drifted towards the stall. With any luck, she might not have lost taste for the mochi snacks too.
