Tie your napkin 'round your neck, chéri

Plague

POSTED: Mon Nov 30, 2015 8:20 pm

HEINE KAISER
And right now there's a steel knife, in my windpipe
Optime | Nov 30 | Millstone Village (Near Plague’s house)
Let me know if anything needs changing!
WORD COUNT
363

The slave had played with the idea for a few days. Bane had informed him of the most recent D’Angelo’s acceptance into Salsola a few weeks prior, and he had paid it little mind. What did he truly care? Their rank would always be above his, and so his reception within the woman-dominated pack would not change. He would have discounted the new Associate entirely had he not heard whispers of her talents. A cook, she was a good cook.

Corrine had been too busy as of late to help him. The pack seemed to have the French woman busy fussing over various things, and, being that she was a public slave, she had to go where she was beckoned. This meant she could spare little time to teach the boy. There was another within the pack that the indentured knew of that had talents in food preparation, but she was well above his lowly rank, and akin to a stranger to him.

This woman though, the one who shared blood with his master, perhaps she would help him? He knew it was a long shot, but, the worst she could do was chase him off. Heine had hurriedly finished his chores around the cabin, and had bounded off into the bush just before mid-day. He had hunted down a few plump rabbits, a few squirrels, and a grouse, and toted his plentiful catch in a bag he had borrowed from the pack’s storage. The food was more than plenty for what he had in mind, but, the slave thought it perhaps best to bring extra as a peace offering.

He felt naked without his bow and quiver as he came upon the abandoned village he had often frequented as a makeshift targeting ground. Rumor had it that the sooty-furred D’Angelo had taken up residence near the ruins. Heine nervously shifted the burlap sack on his shoulder, his slate eyes glancing about cautiously as he tried to find signs of a new occupant. “Associate? Miss Plague?” He called out. Heine wasn’t sure if she knew of him yet, and hoped that the woman was home.

I can't breathe, but I still fight, while I can fight
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Heine Kaiser

Salsola
Serf (NPC)
User avatar
Songbird
Luperci Mate to Abeni All Hail the Fallen King
YOU'LL NEVER BREAK ME

POSTED: Wed Dec 02, 2015 2:56 pm

(187) thanks for starting! sorry this is a little short

She awoke with a start, her mind reeling as it scrambled to catch up to her body. Wide, green eyes darted around wildly, and her frantic heart slowed at the sight of the old, dusty cabin she slept in. This was not the mountain that haunted her dreams. Thank the gods, she mused, relieved.

Plague was reminded then of what had woken her, and slowly her eyes narrowed. A voice called her name, and she knew that who ever was calling her, was outside her door. Too many had found her home recently, and she wondered briefly who had spread the word. It was, as always, a fine day to menace someone.

The wraith planned on making this short, forgoing getting dressed as she approached the door and pulled it open halfway. A breeze moved through then, her ears lowering in displeasure. Before her stood a slave—her sister's, if her memory was to be trusted. Her nose twitched at the smell of the game in the burlap sack slung over his shoulder.

The D'Angelo's brows furrowed, confused at the boy's arrival,"Yes?"

Salsola
The Tradesman (NPC)
User avatar
Marcy
Luperci
BORN IN BLOOD

POSTED: Fri Dec 04, 2015 10:50 pm

HEINE KAISER
And right now there's a steel knife, in my windpipe
FORM | DATE | LOCATION
Totally fine!
WORD COUNT
445

His nostrils flared as he finally picked up a scent similiar to Bane’s own. He followed it to a particular home, his nerves eating at him with every step he took. He had never sought out a ranking Salsolan before, and knew not what to expect. Sure, he had stood face to face with his previous masters, had spat at arrogant enslavers and cursed their ancestors beyond the grave. This place, this kingdom of thorns, they were different though. There was an air about them that drenched his rash and rebellious tendencies to a simmer. It didn’t help that he was still relatively uncertain about the idea itself. What slave, on their own initiative, sought out help from someone above them?

“Miss Plague?” He called again as the scent grew stronger. Heine came to a stop as he heard movement from within one of the houses. Was it her? The slave waited, wondering if whoever laid within the old human dwelling was who he was looking for. He needn’t wait long. The door was pulled partially open, and a vibrant, emerald eye glared out at him. The woman looked to be the part. Her fur was a soft charcoal hue, and her hair was cropped short, with one side hiding her other eye.

She looked like she had just woken up, perhaps disturbed by his beckoning. The D’Angelo looked displeased to see him, and, as the breeze blew at his back, he knew she could smell the fresh kills hidden away in his bag. She offered him a single word, neither beckoning him closer nor sending him off. It was a good start. Heine readjusted the sack and stood a little straighter, though kept his slate gaze dutifully lowered to her shoulders.

He gave a respectful—though reluctant—bow. “I am Frau Bane’s slave, Heine,” he introduced first, just in case she didn’t know who the random stranger on her doorstep was. He righted himself before continuing. “I heard you have skills in food preparation,” he began, getting straight to the point as to not waste her time, “I would ask if you could teach me—” There was a pause, as he was embarrassed to admit why he wanted to learn the skill. His gaze briefly turned away. “—so that I can better serve my master.” He let the inquiry settle for a moment before he continued. “I’ve brought extra food with me that you could keep for yourself for your troubles, Associate, and could turn the rabbits’ furs into fine pelts if you so wished.” He hoped she wouldn’t just shut the door in his face.

I can't breathe, but I still fight, while I can fight
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Heine Kaiser

Salsola
Serf (NPC)
User avatar
Songbird
Luperci Mate to Abeni All Hail the Fallen King
YOU'LL NEVER BREAK ME

POSTED: Sat Dec 05, 2015 8:43 pm

(269) sort of related, but i love Heine.

The boy was taller than her, but this was not a rare trait among even partial wolves. He was dusty and unclothed, befitting for a slave she supposed. She didn't know for sure; the Khalif had no official "slaves", as far as she was aware. Plague studied him silently as he spoke, her green gaze as cold as the air around them. Though he was beneath her and was therefore less inclined to lash out, she distrusted him as much as any other man or woman she met.

It was with that that she learned he was her sister's. He was Heine and he spoke the language of the Mountain. This was comforting in a way, her nerves easing only slightly. Plague was about to shut the door on him when he spoke of the incentives he had brought. As of late, she had begun to amass a relatively small collection of rabbit furs, and now someone was offering yet another. Maybe, it was a sign of something greater; a sign from her dark god Tak.

She decided then, that she would agree to this request. It was obvious to her that this was a show of his divine power, arranging fate to benefit her after the years she spent serving in and for his clergy.

Her hand moved to push the wooden panel open further, and it was then that she stepped out beyond the doorway. The cold nipped at her even more now that she was outside. Plague crossed her arms.

Flatly, she replied in German, <"...Fine. Do you know what you want to make?">

Salsola
The Tradesman (NPC)
User avatar
Marcy
Luperci
BORN IN BLOOD

POSTED: Sun Dec 06, 2015 12:56 am

HEINE KAISER
And right now there's a steel knife, in my windpipe
FORM | DATE | LOCATION
~<333 And I, Plague! Her personality and bluntness makes me laugh!
WORD COUNT
410

Tried as he might to read her, it was nearly impossible for him to gauge if the D’Angelo was receptive or not of his plea. Eyes were a window into the soul, were a way to separate discrepancies in one’s actions and words. And he was barred from using such a valuable tool. His eyes had to be cast low because of his “unworthy” blood. He had been born a prince, and, now, he bore the mark of a slave. It was a fact that clawed at him every single day, but, if he wanted to survive, he had to play by another’s rules. And, here, in Salsola, that meant he had to grovel at another’s feet.

He waited patiently for the Associate’s reply, and, at one moment, he thought she might deny him his request. She surprised him by opening the door wider. The rebel blinked in mild astonishment, but did well to not celebrate aloud. He watched her, read into her movements for their unspoken meaning. Plague held the door open and crossed her arms, and he vaguely wondered if it was from the cold or out of a natural instinct to do so. When her words changed to German, the slave’s demeanor relaxed a little, and his ears rotated forward with renewed interest. More and more, he found, spoke the language of his homeland.

“Danke, Mitarbeiterin.” He offered her another respectful dip of his muzzle before the hybrid took the invitation she provided, and slid into the woman’s home. Once inside, the rebel patiently waited for his host to follow. His slate eyes wandered furtively, assessing his new environment for anything important to keep track of. He did so quickly, not wanting to be accused of harboring thoughts of thievery. “Nein. Obwohl ein weiterer Slave hat mir gesagt, dass ein Eintopf ist am einfachsten zu machen, auch mit wenig Zutaten auf der Hand.” The slave made no other comments about the matter. She was doing this of her own free will, and he dared not to overstretch his fragile request. The Associate would teach him what she felt was best.

“Ich bin ein Piss-armen Koch, folglich, alles wird mein Ansehen zu helfen.” Heine took the weighted sack from his shoulders and undid the coarse rope that held the opening closed. His clawed hands readjusted their grip, holding it closed, but, readily before him as if waiting for a direction.

I can't breathe, but I still fight, while I can fight
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Heine Kaiser

Salsola
Serf (NPC)
User avatar
Songbird
Luperci Mate to Abeni All Hail the Fallen King
YOU'LL NEVER BREAK ME

POSTED: Wed Dec 09, 2015 9:09 pm

(248) sorry this post is kind of suck D: we can probably skip to when the stew is actually cooking if you want.

There was a short moment before the boy entered her home, uttering a word of thanks in their shared tongue. She watched him briefly, only turning to step back inside and close the door behind her. In a corner of the cabin was her bed, and laying at its edge was her feline housemate. Tabby eyed the new arrival curiously, surprised that her ward had let someone—let alone a man—into her dwelling. Her eyes were more fixated on the burlap sack, however; the smell of the meat appetizing to her empty stomach.

The wraith let him speak as she moved to crouch at her bed. She pulled a pot—smaller than the cast-iron one she used on the mountain—from it, wiping bits of dust off. It shined, though not as well as a newer one of its kind might. Plague headed for the door then, the bobcat trailing at her heels. "Bring that outside," she called, "I would rather not burn the place down."

She explained herself very little, though she felt justified in doing so. He was, after all, a slave who had sought her help. "..We'll need a fire going. Can you do that?" her words were only partly sharpened, as if they were dull knives. "I assume you've brought rabbits. If not, whatever else you have will have to do." Plague gestured for him to hand over the sack. While he prepared the fire, she would prep the meat.

Salsola
The Tradesman (NPC)
User avatar
Marcy
Luperci
BORN IN BLOOD

POSTED: Sat Dec 12, 2015 11:21 pm

HEINE KAISER
And right now there's a steel knife, in my windpipe
FORM | DATE | LOCATION
Hoped where I stopped was okay! Didn’t want to assume too much!
WORD COUNT
500

The huntsman blinked as he found a large feline staring at him from Plague’s bedside. He had seen a few domestic cats kept as companions, but had never seen one of this size before. Bobcats, Lynxes, they weren’t pets, not from his experiences. They were too wild, too independent for it. They were better used for their pelts was all he knew, was all he had been taught by Dasha. So, the slave regarded the tawny feline with quiet interest.

His gaze followed his host—and soon-to-be teacher—as she moved about her sparse home. Once she retrieved a pot, Plague returned to the door and suggested they resume training outside of her house. Heine bowed his head obediently and nodded. The edges of his lips itched to turn upward, finding unnecessary humor in the cold woman’s otherwise simple explanation. “Yes, Associate,” he replied, switching back to English when she did. He trailed after the Salsolan’s feline, filing out the door and waiting just to the side of the door for further direction.

She questioned him, and the Kaiser almost felt insulted by her insinuation. What kind of slave did she take him for? An idiot? He did well to rein his sharp tongue in though. He wanted her to help him, not turn him away. Ja, Frau D’Angelo.” His words were polite, as they should be, but his slate gaze was disgruntled as he looked away from her. The rebel’s tipped ears flickered when she continued. He saw her gesture from his peripheral vision, and he brought forth the sack. “I brought rabbits, a bird, and some squirrels.” There was a pause as the burlap bag traded hands. “I thought you might want to keep the rabbits and grouse as part of your payment?” It was a known fact that squirrel was the least tasting of the three choices, and the slave thought it better if they used the tree-dwelling animal for his practice.

He went to gather kindling as the Associate worked on the food. His slate eyes flickered back to the sooty woman every so often, furtively taking notes on what she did as she worked. He needed to learn, but, he knew not how to ask what she was doing without feeling like he was being an annoyance. If he could watch her, he could later immolate the movements. If he became too vocal, she might shut him out completely, and the whole lesson would have been for naught.

His calloused hands worked quickly with the wood pile, and it wasn’t long before the slave had coaxed a fire out of it. By this time, Plague had compiled a mixture into the pot she had brought outside. His cranium turned to the wraith expectantly. His ears flattened submissively against his hair. “What now, Associate?” The boy looked curiously at the pot in her hands. He took an inquisitive sniff, wondering what she had created and why.

I can't breathe, but I still fight, while I can fight
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Heine Kaiser

Salsola
Serf (NPC)
User avatar
Songbird
Luperci Mate to Abeni All Hail the Fallen King
YOU'LL NEVER BREAK ME

POSTED: Tue Dec 15, 2015 8:47 pm

(313) sorry for the wait :D;;

She peered into the burlap sack, her eyes still cold and bleak. The game was adequate enough, she thought, reaching a hand into the back to touch at the fur of the rabbits. This boy wasn't the incompetent brute she thought most males to be. He'd made good kills, at least as far as their spoils were concerned.

"Excellent," Plague nodded, turning her head up to the slave. "This will do nicely," she said, her voice lacking in the warmth her words were intended to have.

The boy went to gather the kindling, while she skinned and de-boned the squirrels. They were the least appetizing among Heine's kills, but she was known to be able to make good meals from substandard ingredients. It was almost necessary, given the harsh environment Khalif had.

Plague made an effort to do this all rather slowly though, trying to give her sister's slave the chance to watch her work. In truth, she'd never taught anyone how to do anything before, so she doubted he would learn much. If anything, it was the effort on her part that counted.

The fire was alive soon enough, and in her metal pot she now had a well put together mixture of the scarce herbs she carried in her leather bag. In her hand, she held two decently sized potatoes, ones she'd had stored for a while now. It wouldn't do well for their lesson if she excluded him from the process entirely. So, she sat by the flames the boy had started, and set the pot among the wood and stones to start cooking. Her head swiveled to look at him, and she gestured for him to sit beside her.

"Cut these into chunks," Plague instructed, "Not too big, but not too small either." Hesitantly, she offered him her blade to use.

Salsola
The Tradesman (NPC)
User avatar
Marcy
Luperci
BORN IN BLOOD

POSTED: Tue Dec 22, 2015 2:47 am

HEINE KAISER
And right now there's a steel knife, in my windpipe
FORM | DATE | LOCATION
It’s okay~<33 Sorry this is so long <___< It got away from me.
WORD COUNT
715

It was reassuring to hear that the teacher approved of his chosen prey items. If there was one thing he was good at, it was killing small game with his trusty bow. It was perhaps one of the more useful skills he had learned, and it was a talent that made him useful amongst the other common riffraff of slaves. He had not met any that had skills beyond labor or housework. Dasha had made him a unique piece of property to have, and Bane had only encouraged the betterment of his uncommon talents.

Through his furtive glances at the sooty woman, Heine realized her movements were slower, more methodical and precise, than one would expect of memorized actions. She did not let on that she knew of his ever watchful gaze though, not once glancing his way or speaking to him throughout the preparation process. He was thankful for her quiet action, and made sure to commit them to memory. She had chosen the squirrels for their lesson today, and was quick to remove them of their skins. A few pieces were removed from their naked bodies; the heads, hands and feet, and tails. The tree-dwelling animals were cleaned of their inner organs as well as de-boned. It surprised the slave at how easily the Associate made the whole process look.

His first task complete, Plague moved towards the fire. The pot she carried was filled with filled with various herbs and spices, causing the Trell to stick out his head a bit to take a few more investigative sniffs at it. What were they? What would they do to the stew? Before he could voice his questions though, two potatoes were thrust into his hands. Heine blinked, and stared at them stupidly. His slate gaze moved to the pot as it was place upon the flickering fire before moving back to the questionable spuds in his grasp.

The Kaiser’s face clearly showed that the importance of the ground-dwelling tubers were completely lost to him. He stared at them for a moment more before his eyes moved to Plague, silently pleading for help, or, at the very least, a clue, on what was to be done with the potatoes. She motioned for him to sit near her, and finally gave him his next instruction. The earthen hybrid did as was bid of him, but did sure to keep a reasonable distance from the ranked female.

When she handed him a knife, Heine’s thought process halted. For a few precious moments, he simply stared at the weapon. It meant a lot, when one of higher status gave a slave something so dangerous, so…powerful. If he had wanted to, he could have easily turned the tool on the Associate. He outweighed her, and could easily subdue her if he tried. He could be free of his indentured life if he so pleased. They were not thoughts that entertained his—unbeknownst to him—cowed mind though. Heine reached out to gingerly accept the knife from Plague’s grasp. The allowance of the blade was a sign of trust, and that was all he saw.

“Verstanden.” Heine placed the knife down beside him and put one of the potatoes on his lap. He inspected the other spud, turning it over in his hands as if it were some type of animal he had killed and was trying to make heads or tails of it. Was there a certain way he was supposed to cut it? After a moment of inspection, Heine finally picked up the blade and carefully sliced into the tuber. He took a secretive glance at Plague, silently trying to gauge if he was doing it right.

It seemed simple enough, and soon the boy had the first potato cut into chunks. “What did you add to the pot, Associate?” He inquired between careful cuts of the second potato. To him, the herbs looked similar to something Bane might use for her medicine. Logic told him that they could not be one of the same. After all, who took their medicine and complimented it for its savory taste? The Trell set the blade down once more and held out the finished pieces to Plague like an offering. “Are these good?”

I can't breathe, but I still fight, while I can fight
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Heine Kaiser

Salsola
Serf (NPC)
User avatar
Songbird
Luperci Mate to Abeni All Hail the Fallen King
YOU'LL NEVER BREAK ME

POSTED: Sat Jan 02, 2016 12:01 am

no worries~ (+371)

She knew not of the power her gesture carried, her mind still dull to many of the nuances of Salsolan culture. Perhaps, it was because of how the Khalif had raised her (or failed to do so) that she didn't see the message her actions sent. Plague trusted the slave very little, but he would need a knife to prepare the potatoes, so there was no debating about it in her mind.Things were as simple as that.

Plague grew irritated at his hesitation, and might have said something about it had Heine not promptly taken the tool from her. If there was one thing that annoyed her the most, it was being second-guessed. I am aware of everything I do, she thought.

She focused her attention on the stewing pot then, her eyes blank but observant. She listened to him work and at first, she could tell he was unsure of what to do. In a way, it was amusing to watch him fumble, but at the same time, it exasperated her. Plague was always puzzled at those who failed to see the simplicity in the things she did. In reality, much of what she did was odd, and others had the right to question the woman. She didn't realize this, however.

Soon, the smell of the unfinished stew began to fill the cool air around them. Silently, Plague reveled and found comfort in it. "Rosemary, thyme, bits of garlic and onion," she sniffed again, "The stew will be better for it."

It was strange how simple an act as cooking brought a sense of warmth to the wraith's cold heart. But, it'd been one of her few solaces back on the mountain, it was something that had kept her together for the longest time.

Plague turned to the Trell when he called to her, and she looked at his work intently from where she sat. The chunks were not perfect, she could see that much, but they were good enough for her. Even she understood that every skill took practice.

"These are good," she replied, her voice still soft and monotone, "Add them to the pot. We'll strip the meat into pieces next."

Salsola
The Tradesman (NPC)
User avatar
Marcy
Luperci
BORN IN BLOOD

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