33rd of searing, 120
The warm sun had broken the sky's silver veil early in the morning, which helped to combat the chill air of Lorien's gutter district: Lower Nivenhain. It was in that part of the city that all the nameless urchins, criminals, and lost souls gathered to fester in filth for the remainder of their days. Arkash was lucky enough to meet very few run-ins with criminals during his upbringing. Things had, of course, worsened after his mother's passing, and he found himself confronted with thugs on a bi-weekly basis. They were the Thompson boys, from the Savant Caste. three brothers with not much better to do than prey on the vulnerable people in their hovels and shacks where the law cast a blind eye. But that was a topic for another day. Arkash had just finished his nightshift and awaited his pay.
Barry, one of his kinder, more empathetic bosses, had asked about how he was doing. One answer led to another question, and the story of his lost mother unraveled from his lips. They were in a tall, darkened alley beside a burning iron barrel. Arkash was leaning against the opposite wall, soaking in the free warmth as it burned. Barry was stood nearby while blowing his tobacco pipe. He appeared most interested in the young Rath's story and even shifted to concern and shock when the revelation came. Silence fell between the two, and Arkash shivered in the shade of the alley. "...That was six years ago, now," added the young Rath, who shuffled uncomfortably in his spot. "Rabe's beak..." Spoke Barry at last, and lowered his pipe while he thought. "They just fuckin... left 'er there?"
"'Til Searing, yeah," he answered before he slurped the drool that threatened to slip past his lips. "She was frozen, you know. An' I couldn't move her, even if it weren't for the ice." Barry turned away and lifted a hand to his head, apparently distressed. Arkash tilted his head at the display but spoke nothing of it. "An'... No one came over? They din' even ask?" Quizzed the human. Such behavior was typical in Lorien, even in the more prestigious parts of the city. The Rath nodded in affirmation and spoke a simple "yeah," before he slurped again. Barry spat in disgust and sneered as he turned to face the lizard. "Fuckin' cunts. Only in bloody Nivenhain do you see that shit." Something about the human's passion pulled at the corner of his mouth, and a slight smile took his features. Barry smiled in turn at the sight and snickered. "I can say 'cunts' more often if it cheers you up, kid."
He was a rather large man of fair skin. A thick beard grew from his chin and stretched over his lip, which rested beneath his broad, flat nose. It was broken from his many scuffles, but that much was typical of humans that lived there in lower Nivenhain. Arkash shook his head in response, and his smile only grew. A swipe of his arm wiped away some fresh spit and venom from his lips, and he swallowed hard before parting them again. "That's alright, boss. I'll try an' smile more on the job, too. Been slackin' with that." Barry furrowed his brow. "I don't give a toss if you smile or not; you work in the back, an' that mask covers your entire mouth anyway."
The rath looked to his claws, where he held his muzzle. It was to prevent him from drooling on the flour they used to bake. Of course, he was grateful for it, even if it felt a little demeaning to have to wear something that was more at home on a dog to work. "Ah, yeah," he spoke quietly. Barry noticed his sullen reaction and stammered a moment before he spoke a quick "Ah- I do care if you're happy though. You're a reliable worker, even if ya can't lift the bigger sacks alone." Being told so made his eyes water, and he slurped as he wiped at his eyes with a sniffle. Barry frowned a little in turn, then paused a moment in thought as he looked to his hand. Finally, he offered his smoking pipe to the drooly reptile. "Here," he spoke simply. Arkash looked to Barry's extended hand, then lifted his head to meet the tall human's beady eyes. "But I'll slobber on it, an' it's-" barry lifted his hand before he could finish his sentence, and cut the Rath off. "Keep it, I got a spare," with his words came a jostle of his hand, as if he'd tried to prompt the lizard to take it.
Arkash didn't smoke often, and only a few occasions had he done so. It did help de-stress him when he did it, but he knew Tobacco was... moreish. With a slight nod, he accepted the pipe, then offered the muzzle back to Barry with his other hand. To that, the human shook his head and waved his hand. "What am I gonna use that for? Keep it; incentive for showing up on time," the human explained. Something about accepting so many gifts felt wrong to the rath but owning one such mask would ensure that he would find more work. The angel on his shoulder told him to refuse the gift, and to not abuse the man's generosity. The Devil told him he'd earned a lucky break, and that he should feel good for reaping the rewards of all the hours he'd put into the bakery. "Thanks, Boss," spoke the Rathari with light in his yellow eyes, and he clasped the strap of the muzzle tightly. "I'll show up on time, promise," he added and bowed his head in gratitude. "You're off the clock. Call me Barry," offered the human, "an' it's nothing. We gotta look after ourselves in this shit'ole, you know."
Officially, Barry had become his favorite boss.
Another bow of his head came his reply, and the young Rathari pushed off the wall to take his leave, but a call of Barry's voice stopped him. At once, the lizard turned around, only to find a 50df bill just below his face in the hands of the towering Human. "Your wage for the day," reminded Barry. Sudden panic and relief washed over the Rathari at once. How could he have forgotten his day's worth of pay?! With a deep exhale, he washed away the stirring anxiety in his chest and accepted the note with the same claw that held his new muzzle. "I'd forget my head if it weren't screwed on. Thanks, Barry," spoke the Rath with a gentle smile and a bow of his head. Barry smiled in turn and shook his head a little. "See ya tomorrow, kid," he spoke, then turned to re-enter his bakery from the side door.
At once, Arkash turned tail and began running. He was tired from work, certainly, but today was a good day. The first in a long time! His bruises hurt stung deeply as he charged, but he didn't care. The pain was something that the young Rath was familiar with. It wouldn't stop his happiness now. Granted, that changed when his stamina quickly depleted, and he was left to pant and gasp for air. The rest of the journey, he walked. It truly was a nice day; the sun was shining, and most of the snow had melted. People seemed just a little more chipper beneath the warm glow as they went about their days in the gutter streets of Lower Nivenhain. Something about remaining in the public eye made him feel safe, though he knew not one of the humans on the street would lift a finger to aid him if a thief decided to drag him into one of the alleys he passed. With that thought in mind, he strafed a little closer to the road, out of arm's length of the alleys. His wage was hidden by the mask he carried, as to not attract unwanted attention.
Before long, he arrived at his shack and immediately let himself in before shutting the door tight behind him. The fear of being followed ran rampant through his mind and caused his heart to beat fast in his chest. Granted, it was unreasonable to think that anyone would be interested in following a scabby, scarred nameless rathari in lower Nivenhain, but paranoia and anxiety were his shadows. Another creeping thought was that his two-panel door would probably be enough to keep a malnourished child from entering his home, but anything more would see his hinges and lock both broken, and his life among the contents of his home available to invaders. A sigh dispelled the welling fear in his heart, and he turned to the left to find Cojack, his father, halfway out of bed and with his face on the floor.
Visions of the past, of finding his mother face down in an alley shook to the surface of his frayed mind as he stared in horror at his helpless father. "D-dad?" He managed in a small, frail voice. The response was a loud, raspy breath that saw the thin horse's chest inflate. At once, Arkash steeled himself and ran to his father's aid. With great effort, he managed to deadlifted his father and helped him back onto the bed to lay. "Dad! Dad, please say something!" He cried, and his father's eyes opened a little. "Ah, Arkash..." Spoke the worn down Stallion. "How was work...?" the younger rath didn't spare him a reply and dashed across the room to fetch a rag. With that, he wiped the bloody phlegm from his father's chin and a spot on the floor. "Arkash..." His father spoke, but he didn't reply. The Rath was entirely invested in the task of cleaning up.
"Arkash...!" The sick horse bellowed, then coughed hard in a way that saw his head and boney chest lift from the bed. Only then did Arkash snap from his daze, and he looked to his sickly father expectantly. "What? What'cha you say? Don't strain your voice like that." Cojack laughed a ragged breath, which only further furrowed the lizard's brow. "...How was work, kiddo?" He asked again. Arkash found himself smiling at the recollection of the night shift, then nodded. "It was good, dad," was all he spoke in response. The horse smiled a little, then laid back in his bed. Arkash continued his task of cleaning quietly, as to not disturb his sickly father's rest. Indeed, it was a good day.
The warm sun had broken the sky's silver veil early in the morning, which helped to combat the chill air of Lorien's gutter district: Lower Nivenhain. It was in that part of the city that all the nameless urchins, criminals, and lost souls gathered to fester in filth for the remainder of their days. Arkash was lucky enough to meet very few run-ins with criminals during his upbringing. Things had, of course, worsened after his mother's passing, and he found himself confronted with thugs on a bi-weekly basis. They were the Thompson boys, from the Savant Caste. three brothers with not much better to do than prey on the vulnerable people in their hovels and shacks where the law cast a blind eye. But that was a topic for another day. Arkash had just finished his nightshift and awaited his pay.
Barry, one of his kinder, more empathetic bosses, had asked about how he was doing. One answer led to another question, and the story of his lost mother unraveled from his lips. They were in a tall, darkened alley beside a burning iron barrel. Arkash was leaning against the opposite wall, soaking in the free warmth as it burned. Barry was stood nearby while blowing his tobacco pipe. He appeared most interested in the young Rath's story and even shifted to concern and shock when the revelation came. Silence fell between the two, and Arkash shivered in the shade of the alley. "...That was six years ago, now," added the young Rath, who shuffled uncomfortably in his spot. "Rabe's beak..." Spoke Barry at last, and lowered his pipe while he thought. "They just fuckin... left 'er there?"
"'Til Searing, yeah," he answered before he slurped the drool that threatened to slip past his lips. "She was frozen, you know. An' I couldn't move her, even if it weren't for the ice." Barry turned away and lifted a hand to his head, apparently distressed. Arkash tilted his head at the display but spoke nothing of it. "An'... No one came over? They din' even ask?" Quizzed the human. Such behavior was typical in Lorien, even in the more prestigious parts of the city. The Rath nodded in affirmation and spoke a simple "yeah," before he slurped again. Barry spat in disgust and sneered as he turned to face the lizard. "Fuckin' cunts. Only in bloody Nivenhain do you see that shit." Something about the human's passion pulled at the corner of his mouth, and a slight smile took his features. Barry smiled in turn at the sight and snickered. "I can say 'cunts' more often if it cheers you up, kid."
He was a rather large man of fair skin. A thick beard grew from his chin and stretched over his lip, which rested beneath his broad, flat nose. It was broken from his many scuffles, but that much was typical of humans that lived there in lower Nivenhain. Arkash shook his head in response, and his smile only grew. A swipe of his arm wiped away some fresh spit and venom from his lips, and he swallowed hard before parting them again. "That's alright, boss. I'll try an' smile more on the job, too. Been slackin' with that." Barry furrowed his brow. "I don't give a toss if you smile or not; you work in the back, an' that mask covers your entire mouth anyway."
The rath looked to his claws, where he held his muzzle. It was to prevent him from drooling on the flour they used to bake. Of course, he was grateful for it, even if it felt a little demeaning to have to wear something that was more at home on a dog to work. "Ah, yeah," he spoke quietly. Barry noticed his sullen reaction and stammered a moment before he spoke a quick "Ah- I do care if you're happy though. You're a reliable worker, even if ya can't lift the bigger sacks alone." Being told so made his eyes water, and he slurped as he wiped at his eyes with a sniffle. Barry frowned a little in turn, then paused a moment in thought as he looked to his hand. Finally, he offered his smoking pipe to the drooly reptile. "Here," he spoke simply. Arkash looked to Barry's extended hand, then lifted his head to meet the tall human's beady eyes. "But I'll slobber on it, an' it's-" barry lifted his hand before he could finish his sentence, and cut the Rath off. "Keep it, I got a spare," with his words came a jostle of his hand, as if he'd tried to prompt the lizard to take it.
Arkash didn't smoke often, and only a few occasions had he done so. It did help de-stress him when he did it, but he knew Tobacco was... moreish. With a slight nod, he accepted the pipe, then offered the muzzle back to Barry with his other hand. To that, the human shook his head and waved his hand. "What am I gonna use that for? Keep it; incentive for showing up on time," the human explained. Something about accepting so many gifts felt wrong to the rath but owning one such mask would ensure that he would find more work. The angel on his shoulder told him to refuse the gift, and to not abuse the man's generosity. The Devil told him he'd earned a lucky break, and that he should feel good for reaping the rewards of all the hours he'd put into the bakery. "Thanks, Boss," spoke the Rathari with light in his yellow eyes, and he clasped the strap of the muzzle tightly. "I'll show up on time, promise," he added and bowed his head in gratitude. "You're off the clock. Call me Barry," offered the human, "an' it's nothing. We gotta look after ourselves in this shit'ole, you know."
Officially, Barry had become his favorite boss.
Another bow of his head came his reply, and the young Rathari pushed off the wall to take his leave, but a call of Barry's voice stopped him. At once, the lizard turned around, only to find a 50df bill just below his face in the hands of the towering Human. "Your wage for the day," reminded Barry. Sudden panic and relief washed over the Rathari at once. How could he have forgotten his day's worth of pay?! With a deep exhale, he washed away the stirring anxiety in his chest and accepted the note with the same claw that held his new muzzle. "I'd forget my head if it weren't screwed on. Thanks, Barry," spoke the Rath with a gentle smile and a bow of his head. Barry smiled in turn and shook his head a little. "See ya tomorrow, kid," he spoke, then turned to re-enter his bakery from the side door.
At once, Arkash turned tail and began running. He was tired from work, certainly, but today was a good day. The first in a long time! His bruises hurt stung deeply as he charged, but he didn't care. The pain was something that the young Rath was familiar with. It wouldn't stop his happiness now. Granted, that changed when his stamina quickly depleted, and he was left to pant and gasp for air. The rest of the journey, he walked. It truly was a nice day; the sun was shining, and most of the snow had melted. People seemed just a little more chipper beneath the warm glow as they went about their days in the gutter streets of Lower Nivenhain. Something about remaining in the public eye made him feel safe, though he knew not one of the humans on the street would lift a finger to aid him if a thief decided to drag him into one of the alleys he passed. With that thought in mind, he strafed a little closer to the road, out of arm's length of the alleys. His wage was hidden by the mask he carried, as to not attract unwanted attention.
Before long, he arrived at his shack and immediately let himself in before shutting the door tight behind him. The fear of being followed ran rampant through his mind and caused his heart to beat fast in his chest. Granted, it was unreasonable to think that anyone would be interested in following a scabby, scarred nameless rathari in lower Nivenhain, but paranoia and anxiety were his shadows. Another creeping thought was that his two-panel door would probably be enough to keep a malnourished child from entering his home, but anything more would see his hinges and lock both broken, and his life among the contents of his home available to invaders. A sigh dispelled the welling fear in his heart, and he turned to the left to find Cojack, his father, halfway out of bed and with his face on the floor.
Visions of the past, of finding his mother face down in an alley shook to the surface of his frayed mind as he stared in horror at his helpless father. "D-dad?" He managed in a small, frail voice. The response was a loud, raspy breath that saw the thin horse's chest inflate. At once, Arkash steeled himself and ran to his father's aid. With great effort, he managed to deadlifted his father and helped him back onto the bed to lay. "Dad! Dad, please say something!" He cried, and his father's eyes opened a little. "Ah, Arkash..." Spoke the worn down Stallion. "How was work...?" the younger rath didn't spare him a reply and dashed across the room to fetch a rag. With that, he wiped the bloody phlegm from his father's chin and a spot on the floor. "Arkash..." His father spoke, but he didn't reply. The Rath was entirely invested in the task of cleaning up.
"Arkash...!" The sick horse bellowed, then coughed hard in a way that saw his head and boney chest lift from the bed. Only then did Arkash snap from his daze, and he looked to his sickly father expectantly. "What? What'cha you say? Don't strain your voice like that." Cojack laughed a ragged breath, which only further furrowed the lizard's brow. "...How was work, kiddo?" He asked again. Arkash found himself smiling at the recollection of the night shift, then nodded. "It was good, dad," was all he spoke in response. The horse smiled a little, then laid back in his bed. Arkash continued his task of cleaning quietly, as to not disturb his sickly father's rest. Indeed, it was a good day.
