FLYING HOME HAD BEEN UNEXPECTED, to say the least. But as long as they were leaving Yamatai ( for the second time; for good… she hoped, crossing all fingers andall toes ), they could have taken a rickshaw led by a flying unicorn and it would have been all the same. The trouble with traveling though, was that it could be… UNRELIABLE. And after everything she’d been through, someone else in her place might have had the spirit ofadventure washed out of them, like blood out of bedsheets; leaving one hell of a stain ––– but Lara was a Croft, through and through. She absolutely took the unexpected detour to India in full stride.
THE CULTURE!!!!!!!!!!!! You could practically see the words hovering over her head in bold, comic-style font, complete with twelve ––– yes, twelve, I counted –– exclamation points.
She didn’t look like your average tourist, at least, walking through the market in her uniform of tank-top and cargo pants, the tops of her shoulders browned by the late summer sun. She’d be going back to England soon; this near-sultry heat was a welcome change of pace from Yamatai’s humidity, and the muggy skies she’d be returning to. Her handy axe was tied to her backpack, its weight reassuring and familiar.
Due to meet Sam and the others back at the hostel they were staying at in a few hours, there was no lack of sights to see, wares to examine and people to watch. And the food, oh the food! She’d caught hints of something syrupy, the sticky sweetness of something like honey, as soon as she’d entered the souk. Not usually one for sweets, she’d stayed away –– but the scent was insistent, seductive and utterly unavoidable. And strangely… nostalgic…?
Eventually, she found her way in line for something called gulaab jamun. Could have easily looked it up on her phone, but didn’t. She much preferred the surprise when her tongue met a symphony of QUITE UNEXPECTED flavors. The balls ( oh, the jokes she could make here)snatched her promptly out of the present and plopped her in the past. She could see her father, returning from Egypt and bearing gifts: Zalabia. Treats in the shapes of circles and raindrops, doused and dense with syrup, soaking through the cardboard they were held in. She could taste the treacly sugar she’d licked off her fingertips, and remembered, clear as day, the smile on her father’s face.
Now, Lara too, was smiling –– albeit, it was a bit WOBBLY ––– biting down on the last ball, only to ask for another serving, please.
CC: @legacybroke .