Rohka paused her movements, the knife still gripped in her hand, her mouth firm. She’d listened to the Kelvic’s answer, knowing full well that they would disagree, but not knowing that the nickname would fall through. It was a habit that Roh would never learn to lose—she enjoyed bypassing the stage of acquaintances quicker than most people. Salara’s wish to be called by her full name was entirely understandable, and the young Calico nodded with respect.
“Very well, ’Salara’ it is. Would you like to come sit with me? It’s only fair to share, since you helped. I’ll be taking the loins and belly meat home though; they’re my favourite.” Rohka smiled and continued onto the gutting process. The Kelvic would be right in her estimations about Roh’s level of squeamishness. A part of her honestly enjoyed the process of getting her hands dirty; the creature was no longer a creature anymore, it was a bag of flesh. Plain, lifeless, moldable, cookable material. It was almost fun to be able to awkwardly cut into the belly, being careful not to slice open the colon, and using her fingers to lift the skin away from the intestines. The extra effort was met with a sharp click of her tongue when she realized that she'd punctured the stomach. An awful smell erupted from the dead creature, causing her to scrunch her nose and attempt to work faster. It was a meticulous practice that required her full attention while she quickly tried to remove the spilling innards with one steady motion, pulling out the organs and clearing out the remnant membranes. She grinned when she saw that the liver was deep red, a sign that the rabbit had been healthy.
“You did the honour of ending its vitality, so if you care for its deliciousness, I’d like you to have the heart.” Rohka held up the tiny, dripping organ with her fingers as she watched the Kelvic’s eyes, smiling, and then laid the heart atop a dry leaf. “The liver and kidneys are yummy too, we’re keeping those. Salara, would you help me set up a fire while I butcher the meat?” She was be fine with any answer, so she continued on without waiting. “I don’t wish to order you around, you know. Like I said, you’re not my slave, so I wouldn’t treat you like one. Speaking of which, what made you think that I wouldn’t be kind to those who work for us? All I said was that kindness is irrelevant to doing the job. That doesn’t mean I’m unkind. The slave who was with me earlier was ordered to help me because she wished to gain the ranks within my uncle’s whoring cohort,” she said with bored contempt. “That slave isn’t mine, she was basically using me, and she couldn’t properly do what I needed her to do. That woman is worthless to me. I didn’t even want her here—why should I care if she likes doing things for me?”
Rohka washed the remaining blood, hair, guts, and debris off the meat, pouring out half of what was in her waterskin, having filled it near the stream earlier. She then turned to the tree stump that she'd been leaning against, swept it with her arm and then plopped the skinless rabbit onto the flat surface. She began to field dress, focusing on the front legs first as she spoke. “You said you weren’t born here, Salara. I don’t know how Kelvics behave outside of Ravok. I’ve never been out of the city,” the young Calico looked up briefly, a slight wistfulness in her umber gaze. She’d felt the gravity with which Salara had spoken of her past and tried to keep her voice both warm and stern. “But here, in Rhysol’s good graces, a Kelvic slave is valuable. If you were treated as anything less than valuable, then shame on your owner. And for such an owner to make you think that survival is all there is to life? I pity the fool.”
There was a growing sense of anger in Roh’s voice now, the origin of the feeling was difficult to locate, even within herself. She chopped off belly with a harsh hiss when she clumsily nicked herself, biting her lip to hold back the shooting pain as she concentrated on chopping off the back legs, snapping the hip joint with her fingers. “You’re in Ravok, love!” The statement was stressed with fervour, intensified by the throbbing of the scratch on her finger. An fierce wish to be understood poured out through her tone. “This isn’t a city where you survive, it’s a home for us to thrive!” Rohka was looking straight at her now, her knife held up in preparation to cut the loins that lined the top and bottom of the spine. She would save these portions for herself and her family. She would take them home.
“I’m sorry, Salara. You might not see these things the way I do. I grew up here my whole life and I only wish to serve my God through my actions. We flourish because of Him, and I’m grateful. You don’t have to agree with me, you know. We can share this meal and then part ways, and then you won’t have to care what I do with my life. But if any part of you wishes to grow, to be competent, to be valued,” she paused, the amateur dressing complete. Roh looked calmer now. A certain contentedness settled into the planes of her cheeks. “Then stay with me.”
There was no telling what the Calico meant by ‘stay’ in that moment. They would find out sooner than later.
In the midst of Salara’s reply, the noise of a figure walking towards them interrupted their conversation.
“Very well, ’Salara’ it is. Would you like to come sit with me? It’s only fair to share, since you helped. I’ll be taking the loins and belly meat home though; they’re my favourite.” Rohka smiled and continued onto the gutting process. The Kelvic would be right in her estimations about Roh’s level of squeamishness. A part of her honestly enjoyed the process of getting her hands dirty; the creature was no longer a creature anymore, it was a bag of flesh. Plain, lifeless, moldable, cookable material. It was almost fun to be able to awkwardly cut into the belly, being careful not to slice open the colon, and using her fingers to lift the skin away from the intestines. The extra effort was met with a sharp click of her tongue when she realized that she'd punctured the stomach. An awful smell erupted from the dead creature, causing her to scrunch her nose and attempt to work faster. It was a meticulous practice that required her full attention while she quickly tried to remove the spilling innards with one steady motion, pulling out the organs and clearing out the remnant membranes. She grinned when she saw that the liver was deep red, a sign that the rabbit had been healthy.
“You did the honour of ending its vitality, so if you care for its deliciousness, I’d like you to have the heart.” Rohka held up the tiny, dripping organ with her fingers as she watched the Kelvic’s eyes, smiling, and then laid the heart atop a dry leaf. “The liver and kidneys are yummy too, we’re keeping those. Salara, would you help me set up a fire while I butcher the meat?” She was be fine with any answer, so she continued on without waiting. “I don’t wish to order you around, you know. Like I said, you’re not my slave, so I wouldn’t treat you like one. Speaking of which, what made you think that I wouldn’t be kind to those who work for us? All I said was that kindness is irrelevant to doing the job. That doesn’t mean I’m unkind. The slave who was with me earlier was ordered to help me because she wished to gain the ranks within my uncle’s whoring cohort,” she said with bored contempt. “That slave isn’t mine, she was basically using me, and she couldn’t properly do what I needed her to do. That woman is worthless to me. I didn’t even want her here—why should I care if she likes doing things for me?”
Rohka washed the remaining blood, hair, guts, and debris off the meat, pouring out half of what was in her waterskin, having filled it near the stream earlier. She then turned to the tree stump that she'd been leaning against, swept it with her arm and then plopped the skinless rabbit onto the flat surface. She began to field dress, focusing on the front legs first as she spoke. “You said you weren’t born here, Salara. I don’t know how Kelvics behave outside of Ravok. I’ve never been out of the city,” the young Calico looked up briefly, a slight wistfulness in her umber gaze. She’d felt the gravity with which Salara had spoken of her past and tried to keep her voice both warm and stern. “But here, in Rhysol’s good graces, a Kelvic slave is valuable. If you were treated as anything less than valuable, then shame on your owner. And for such an owner to make you think that survival is all there is to life? I pity the fool.”
There was a growing sense of anger in Roh’s voice now, the origin of the feeling was difficult to locate, even within herself. She chopped off belly with a harsh hiss when she clumsily nicked herself, biting her lip to hold back the shooting pain as she concentrated on chopping off the back legs, snapping the hip joint with her fingers. “You’re in Ravok, love!” The statement was stressed with fervour, intensified by the throbbing of the scratch on her finger. An fierce wish to be understood poured out through her tone. “This isn’t a city where you survive, it’s a home for us to thrive!” Rohka was looking straight at her now, her knife held up in preparation to cut the loins that lined the top and bottom of the spine. She would save these portions for herself and her family. She would take them home.
“I’m sorry, Salara. You might not see these things the way I do. I grew up here my whole life and I only wish to serve my God through my actions. We flourish because of Him, and I’m grateful. You don’t have to agree with me, you know. We can share this meal and then part ways, and then you won’t have to care what I do with my life. But if any part of you wishes to grow, to be competent, to be valued,” she paused, the amateur dressing complete. Roh looked calmer now. A certain contentedness settled into the planes of her cheeks. “Then stay with me.”
There was no telling what the Calico meant by ‘stay’ in that moment. They would find out sooner than later.
In the midst of Salara’s reply, the noise of a figure walking towards them interrupted their conversation.