Post by CRAFT on Jan 10, 2018 0:00:17 GMT -5
give me time and give me space
Free time in a marine’s daily life was… hard to come by to say the least. The closest thing Craft could get to time off was the brief reprieve he was offered as repairs and restocking was done on his current captain’s craft. The ship had an unfortunate run-in with a band of pirates, who not only wrecked a good chunk of the bow and mast, but also managed to escape his blame-shifting captain. Craft had considered jumping over to a new division if he ever got the opportunity, but that was for another time.
For now the young mink found himself in Water 7, walking the traveling the canal-ways whilst his captain saw to the repairs and overhaul of the ship. He found himself feeling rather out of place, a common occurrence for him, amongst a largely human population. It was quite rare for his kind to even be outside of the Zou Kingdom from the get go and even rarer to be wandering around in Naval dress (which for Craft wasn’t up to standard anyways; being a yellow jacket with the marine insignia emblazoned on the back rather than the standard white and blue his rank usually wore). As such, as if being a mink wasn’t enough, he felt the eyes of a few small-time pirates (allowed under regulation that they commit no crimes whilst in Water 7) pierce into his small frame. Irksome.
Nevertheless, it is thus Craft found himself with a spot of free time. And abuse it he would. Being the cook for a bunch of hungry marines was a chore of itself, but he took pride in his work more than anything and loved seeing his comrades happy. To this end, it was time to shop.
“I don’t even know where to start…” He muttered to himself whilst riding in the small chariot pulled by a bull. This place, Water 7, while stunning in its beautiful aqueducts and colorful markets. After finding an area of the large town dedicated to foodstuffs and similarly dining establishments, Craft set foot off his bull.
It was then that the true height of the cat mink was made evident. Short. Very. Barely over 4 feet in height, he paled in comparison to even standard humans. In fact, he had become so used to craning his neck up to look at people that he almost preferred talking to children, with whom he shared a more similar height. Stepping lithely down the brick-lined paths, he began to be overwhelmed by the scents of various spices and cooked foods.
“Heeeh… Vinegar… Onions… Fish? Ah, Sardines.” His strong nose allowed him to pick out small details of the scents that wafted into his range. Not a bad dish from the smell of it, but smell is only part of cuisine. Craft made his way towards the stand which had been serving the dish that he had smelled.
Assaporare. The name of the establishment loomed overhead on a small wooden sign jutting out above the brick walkways. An elegant name for such a wonderful smell. As Craft walked in he was met with a rather thin man with an overly puffed up set of gray hair, a wickedly long moustache and the tightest suit Craft had ever seen. The man glanced down at the mink with an upturned nose. “Can I help you? No pets allowed, be gone.” The attendant had hit a nerve quite quickly.
“Hey now…” Craft said, his canines jutting out of his smiling face. “I’m no pet, Lesser-Mink. My name is Craft, and I’m a chef. Your food’s drawn me in. I’d like to dine if you would be so kind.” He glared up at the man with his one good eye, his smile radiant. You got used to this kind of treatment, really…. But it was always irritating.
“Ho? My apologies, Ser. Our menu is quite high class. I wouldn’t have expected someone who looks so…. uncouth to have a palate suited for it. But unfortunately, my short compagno, we require reservation. Therefore, no walk-in dining. Now if you wouldn’t mind being on your way, I have other patrons to arrive shortly.” *snap* THAT word…. Of all the things that irritated the generally jubilant Craft was being called short…
“Alright, look Lesser-Mink…. I’m NOT short.” His body tensed and he felt his hands reaching for the cooking utensils strapped to his back. “I just wanted a meal, but now you’ve upset me. Ya got a chef worth his stuff here, right? Let me have a duel with him, huh?”
By this time a few… larger men were approaching the marine. While it was rather rude to pick a fight while wearing the marine insignia, Craft wasn’t one to give a damn about ranks and rules. And almost as much as he loved cooking for others, he too loved the sport of a challenge. From the looks of the guys around him, he was fixing to be forcibly thrown out. What a drag.
For now the young mink found himself in Water 7, walking the traveling the canal-ways whilst his captain saw to the repairs and overhaul of the ship. He found himself feeling rather out of place, a common occurrence for him, amongst a largely human population. It was quite rare for his kind to even be outside of the Zou Kingdom from the get go and even rarer to be wandering around in Naval dress (which for Craft wasn’t up to standard anyways; being a yellow jacket with the marine insignia emblazoned on the back rather than the standard white and blue his rank usually wore). As such, as if being a mink wasn’t enough, he felt the eyes of a few small-time pirates (allowed under regulation that they commit no crimes whilst in Water 7) pierce into his small frame. Irksome.
Nevertheless, it is thus Craft found himself with a spot of free time. And abuse it he would. Being the cook for a bunch of hungry marines was a chore of itself, but he took pride in his work more than anything and loved seeing his comrades happy. To this end, it was time to shop.
“I don’t even know where to start…” He muttered to himself whilst riding in the small chariot pulled by a bull. This place, Water 7, while stunning in its beautiful aqueducts and colorful markets. After finding an area of the large town dedicated to foodstuffs and similarly dining establishments, Craft set foot off his bull.
It was then that the true height of the cat mink was made evident. Short. Very. Barely over 4 feet in height, he paled in comparison to even standard humans. In fact, he had become so used to craning his neck up to look at people that he almost preferred talking to children, with whom he shared a more similar height. Stepping lithely down the brick-lined paths, he began to be overwhelmed by the scents of various spices and cooked foods.
“Heeeh… Vinegar… Onions… Fish? Ah, Sardines.” His strong nose allowed him to pick out small details of the scents that wafted into his range. Not a bad dish from the smell of it, but smell is only part of cuisine. Craft made his way towards the stand which had been serving the dish that he had smelled.
Assaporare. The name of the establishment loomed overhead on a small wooden sign jutting out above the brick walkways. An elegant name for such a wonderful smell. As Craft walked in he was met with a rather thin man with an overly puffed up set of gray hair, a wickedly long moustache and the tightest suit Craft had ever seen. The man glanced down at the mink with an upturned nose. “Can I help you? No pets allowed, be gone.” The attendant had hit a nerve quite quickly.
“Hey now…” Craft said, his canines jutting out of his smiling face. “I’m no pet, Lesser-Mink. My name is Craft, and I’m a chef. Your food’s drawn me in. I’d like to dine if you would be so kind.” He glared up at the man with his one good eye, his smile radiant. You got used to this kind of treatment, really…. But it was always irritating.
“Ho? My apologies, Ser. Our menu is quite high class. I wouldn’t have expected someone who looks so…. uncouth to have a palate suited for it. But unfortunately, my short compagno, we require reservation. Therefore, no walk-in dining. Now if you wouldn’t mind being on your way, I have other patrons to arrive shortly.” *snap* THAT word…. Of all the things that irritated the generally jubilant Craft was being called short…
“Alright, look Lesser-Mink…. I’m NOT short.” His body tensed and he felt his hands reaching for the cooking utensils strapped to his back. “I just wanted a meal, but now you’ve upset me. Ya got a chef worth his stuff here, right? Let me have a duel with him, huh?”
By this time a few… larger men were approaching the marine. While it was rather rude to pick a fight while wearing the marine insignia, Craft wasn’t one to give a damn about ranks and rules. And almost as much as he loved cooking for others, he too loved the sport of a challenge. From the looks of the guys around him, he was fixing to be forcibly thrown out. What a drag.
aeron at thq
