The heat was unbearable today, which he honestly hadn't seen coming. During the worst of the mid-afternoon sun, he was tucked away in the shade of the stone Obelisk. The massive stone still radiated some of the night's cold, and the shade kept the worst of the heat off of him. It also kept the morning's harvest from spoiling.. somewhat. He was working fast to shuck the oysters and mussels that he'd plucked from the deep waters along the rockiest part of the shores, returning the meat to the briny waters that he'd been keeping the shelled creatures inside. Leaving them there would keep them from becoming inedible, and then he could add some other odds and ends before simply cooking the whole pot. Add some fresh summer tubers, a few aromatics, and maybe some mushrooms if he could find the kind he liked. Then it was a passable soup. He missed the hand crafted dumplings that his mother used to add when they had the funds, but there wasn't much to be done about that.

The discarded shells were being piled up beside himself, where he intended to try and sharpen them into some variety of utensils later. Flattening out one edge and sharpening it worked surprisingly well as a blade for preparing foods, but less so as a proper weapon for battle. Not that he would need it for anything of the sort, as no more than a maid nowadays. Still, the thought did crop up every now and again. One of the smaller mussels yielded a tiny morsel of meat, which he didn't hesitate to slurp quietly into his mouth. A little treat while he worked. No one was around to see it anyways, nor did anyone seem particularly invested in keeping an eye on his every move anymore.

The little pot was getting close to full, but he still had more than a few pawfuls of oyster left. He'd gotten overzealous with his harvest. The dark waif turned his attention to the cellars on the other side of the clearing, where he knew there was likely a few larger kettle-pots tucked away. But the shade was so nice... He could simply eat the remaining harvest before it spoiled, he supposed. The end of his ebony banner thumped lightly against the warm, lush grass as he took a moment to consider his options.

"Speech!"

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The Warlord made his way towards the cellars, a recently cured coat in his arms as he moved past the communal fire pit, and his eyes landed on Satoru. The small wolf was almost like part of the furniture now. How many times had he looked past him, or dismissed him from his thoughts? He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. How much training has Satoru put in now? Where was he at. Surely he had been here long enough now to have begun working his way out of slavery.

He was doing something with a pot, and the scent of seafood drifted towards him. He thought of Zee, who’s eating habits were still far less than optimal. Hmmmm…. An idea began to grow. “Satoru, been keeping yourself busy?” he asked, heaving the coat onto the cellar door, and making his way over to the other wolf.

"Sirius Fatalis"

Caught up in his work, the delicate male hadn't noticed the Warlord's approach until the titan was looming over him. Verdant eyes lifted towards the giant's features, but didn't meet his gaze out of respect. A slow, demure nod was his initial response to the query. He rolled slowly onto his hip, the ridges of his narrow spine pressed against the smooth, cool stone of the Obelisk. With one dainty forepaw, he shunted the unshucked oysters towards the little pot of brine. "I have been doing my best to ensure the pack is well fed, along with my duties to care for Princess Ophelia-chan." he explained, heavy accent clinging to the softer syllables of his speech. The tip of his tail twitched subtly, and the waif glanced up to try and see what the Warlord might be thinking. His chiseled features were impassive as usual, but there was no obvious malice.. "I harvested too many of these for my purposes, you're welcome to take the rest, if you would like?" he offered, gesturing to the small pile of oysters beside the iron kettle.

"I have had much more time to brush up on my cooking skills, since my arrival. I have been attempting to recreate old family recipes in my spare time." he added, gesturing with a tip of his slender snout towards the kettle. Tension built in his narrow shoulders, wondering if there was an ulterior motive of some sort behind the Warlord's approach. Had he not been fulfilling his duties well enough? He was aware that he had been falling somewhat behind in his attentions to the princess, but it was hard to believe that it was to a degree that might warrant the pack's leader stepping in... right?

"Speech!"

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The Warlord grimaced at the words, wondering if he and Satoru had different ideas on how Ophelia needed to be cared for. As the smaller wolf gestured towards the oysters, the Warlord inclined his head. Wondering if Zee and perhaps even Hana might appreciate a few of them. ‘Thanks. That soup you're making smells rather interesting as well. Preparing it for anything special?” He didn’t want to confiscate it if it was for a special occasion after all. Otherwise, Sotoru might poison it next time…

“It's good that you have an interest in cooking. I fear much of the Armada fare is simple in nature. Say, if you ever want someone to taste your food, I know someone who needs some plumping up, and things like that atomic soup might do just the thing.” and that someone was Zee, not Ophelia.

“Speaking of fattening up. What's been going on with Ophelia? I’ve noticed little change” The words were a little less cordial now.


"Sirius Fatalis"

ooc. really sorry for the wait I forgot about this thread ;-;

At the very least, the Warlord was good at faking an interest in whatever was going on. When asked about the reasoning for the soup, he shrugged lightly and shook his head. "I've missed eating cooked meals, after so much time spent living on scraps. The sea is very rich here, and the resources are available for me to dabble." he admitted with another gentle shrug of narrow shoulders, keeping his tail tucked close to his hip and ears tipped back respectfully. When the Warlord assured him that it was all well and good that he was taking an interest in culinary arts, and offered up a test subject in need of some 'plumping up'. The turn of phrase was familiar, and he wondered who exactly needed to put on weight. He hadn't seen anyone particularly starved lurking about, aside from himself. Putting on weight had never been an option in the past, and at this point he wasn't sure it was even possible.

And then the other shoe dropped, inevitably. The Warlord asked after the princess, and seemed less than pleased about the lack of progress in her physical state. Clearing his throat lightly, the dark furred slave kept his expression carefully neutral. Cast his gaze to the Warlord's paws, stayed as still as possible. Any unnecessary movements would only increase the odds of being hurt in some way. "I... I am not certain, Warlord-sama." he began hesitantly, keeping his tone even and soft. "We are out every day for training, and her endurance has improved, as well as her skill." he offered next, daring to risk a lightning quick glance upwards to gauge the titan's reaction. There wasn't any point in running, this was the large male's territory and there was nowhere he could feasibly hide forever from his ire. Instead, it was best to be pragmatic, grovel a little, and pray for the best outcome. "Despite the extra weight, she is not in terrible condition. She can hold her own well enough, all considered." the sunset dappled male offered with his gaze once again firmly locked on the Warlord's ivory marked paws. And there it was, the final admission of failure that he was trying to wrap up in a neat bow. How hard would the first blow fall? Enough to wind him, or knock him unconscious from the get-go? Losing consciousness tended to make beatings easier.

"Speech!"

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