stock the shelves

Approaching the unfamiliar land mass sent unbidden excitement shooting through every nerve in the young servant's body. The journey had been long, and more than once seasickness had ravaged her, threatening to force from her the small allowance of nourishment the slaves were rationed. To touch her paws upon the grass once more seemed a distant dream, though without yet being given permission to exit the ship the obsidian woman forced herself to stay off to the side only to catch glances of green out the port holes as materials were unloaded.

The waves crashed against the shore and rocked the ship gently, and Citala spread her legs to catch her balance through a particularly heavy one. Her shoulder tapped the hard body of one of the marauders who was hauling, who snapped his head sharply in her direction with a reprimand on his tongue. She dipped her head immediately in acknowledgement of her mistake, murmuring a soft "apologies, sir." and skittering off to the side. Thankfully the weight of the load upon his back must have been enough that he did not choose to linger to punish the unruly slave, and she heard him depart with a grunt.

Citala waited a moment staring down at the floor, only lifting her gaze when she knew the man had for certain moved on. As she raised her head once more she caught sight of her friend calling her name. Without a second thought she carefully slid past the line of workers to meet his request. Absinthe had been once in line for a throne, and still even after their seasons working together she resisted the urge to greet him with a respectful bow. "Absinthe," She greeted smoothly. "How might I assist you and our masters?" Vibrant sapphire eyes watched him intently, breaking from his face only to spare glances at the wolves that climbed onto and off of the ship to ensure she was not in anyone's way.

"Speech"