How did she, Raven wondered, by all that is merciful, as she wrestled the two puppies indoor, get here?
Well it all began exactly where we left off last post, after she hesitantly accepted Hecthor's gifts and carefully put them away, returning to busily working away in the kitchen like a bee. The changes introduced were slow, but sure. Gradually bringing changes to the menu, learning the entire art of wrestling with the woodfire ovens they had so she could eventually bake bread (her bread baking corner was her pride and joy. She'd heard that bread bakes better over time because when you keep cultivating sourdough starter, the air around the baking station also cultivates bacteria that help the bread leavening. She suspects it's a myth, and has been chalking it up to her own skill at bread making gradually increasing, but regardless, she has been jealously guarding it from Ra'geb and Ra'ed (and from Sugar and Spice).
The hearty meal of a loaf of bread and a hunk of cheese always goes well, but the rough wodge that the tavern owners served brought the closest thing to a frown Raven could manage to her face. Over the course of these two weeks, she'd gradually been working on a more delicate, garlic and tomato confit to go with the staples. Olive oil was expensive, so she had to make do with the cheaper versions, but that didn't stop the dish from tasting downright delicious. Perhaps if it did well, she could try her hand at making olive oil from scratch - a task she had previously deemed impossible, but since she was already here baking bread from scratch... well...
Next was the alcohol on the menu. They served beer, which Raven also subtley wrinkled her nose at, turning away the cogs in her head. Beer came from wheat and potatoes. Vodka also came from wheat and potatoes. So that was her path to take forward; begin to distill the cheap alcohol to receive a stronger, sharper, a more potent, a better liquor. Obtaining the distilling apparatus was no easy task however, she'd had had to wheedle at the unforgiving feet of Ra'shoud for a solid week before being begrudgingly offered the apparatus. She promised to make it up to her, and work extra hard on the potions she'd been trying to master.
Speaking of potions, she'd bagged an additional gig at the aforemention Ra'shoud's enterprise, a humble shop of herbs and alchemical products. The same offer as before, except as she didn't need a place to stay, she asked instead that if she bring in some of her own ingredients ("average of 50 gold worth of herbs and plants aggregate, specifics to be determined later") she get to use the equipment in the shop sparingly. It worked out quite well actually, as the tavern really only needed her during the evenings at rush hour, and an additional hour or so in the morning to clean up. She spent her mornings slaving away under Ra'shoud's keen eye and strict hand; the old Stagnant was very particular about everything under her domain - if she said jump, every frog in a 3 mile radius twitched.
Like clockwork went the girl's day, mornings found her at Ra'shoud's mercy, foraging, gathering, brewing, grinding, whatever was the requirement of the day. Even tending to the old witch's garden eventually fell to Raven, but she took it as a great matter of pride and trust, and took excellent care of it, learning what she could about the world's fauna as she went. It stood to reason that the Stagnant never let her out of her sight; Raven wasn't certain she'd be quick to trust a new alien species who arrived and offered to work for free for her either. And so she was careful, very careful. Announcing her arrival at the door with a polite cough, loudly scraping her feet on the mat on the way out, informing her where she put away the cleaned bowls, writing down every single ingredient she used through the day. The Stagnant couldn't see too well, and yet Raven felt her piercing gaze on her constantly, and yet when she raised her own even tempered gaze to meet hers, she was miraculously busy, deep in the throes of a new brewing. And yet despite this, when she first mustered the courage to bring along her brats, Bread and Butter, she couldn't have imagined the attachment the staid old Stagnant would form with them.
Afternoons were up to the girls whims and fancies, she found herself woefully free of requirements such as rest or food, and had taken to trips to the library. Reading was a long forgotten hobby of hers, and finding herself lacking of any playmates for a fresh round of cards, she'd spend a few hours everyday in the quiet sanctuary of paper and ink. It was where she first read about Cheese and Tomato too, about a mystical magic borne of will and emotion. Emotion? Raven touched a quill to her lips, hands brushing over the page as she considered what magnitude of happiness one must feel to physically manifest a being out of it. Or anger, or sadness, or frustration, anything really. To feel so strongly that the universe bends to your call... She'd shaken her head, jotted down the incantation and shut the book, thinking nothing further of it.
Evenings were at the tavern, as one might expect. Busily cooking away, wiping as she went, serving if necessary, and soon even keeping accounts were passed on to the tireless girl. Exhaustion was the dream at this point; Raven worked away busily at every task given to her - systematically, efficiently, unquestioningly. And of course, always remembered to keep a few morsels for her backstage heroes (sarcasm), Dusk and Dawn. Progress was slow, but so far the tavern wasn't running a loss, so Raven was content to truck on. Another day of slaughtering slimes and making a furtive deal with Hecthor, and she'd been able to get her hands on the elusive brass abrasive her heart and the kitchen sink so clearly desired, and she'd hidden away the remainder of the packet with great intent and purpose. She had a feeling she'd need it again real soon. Atleast it wasn't like Earth medieval eras where people would just scrub metal with their piss. Or... did they...?
And the night was for her gathering. Unfortunately, slimes did not sleep, so the girl had to be ever vigilant as she nimbly weaved through them, uprooting weeds and herbs in swift motions. The moonlight waxed and waned, and Raven found her eyesight to be far better at night than it was back at home. Home... whatever be the case, she could see in the dark, that was all. Thankfully every other creature did infact seem to sleep at night, so she dared to stray a little further into the woods than she ordinarily would, quaking the entire way, dagger held in trembling hand, but so far her moonlit adventures were explicitly violence-free, and she even had a few rare night-time herbs to show for it. Some mushrooms were bioluminescent, some tree saps were flammable, some fluffy cat-tail-like plants were deadly venomous; all things she learnt from experience, all things she had to gather regardless. Interesting, how close a relationship you can form with the concept of death when you hold its brightly coloured floral spines in your gloved hand, knowing that a movement too large might be your last. But Raven was cautious, and for that she was alive.
Like clockwork, went her day. Alchemy, library, tavern, field, alchemy, library, tavern, field. Tick tock tick tock. Should she find any, she'd even taken to trying to hone her skills with the spear in her spare time. Beyond a few cautious stabs at slimes from afar, she couldn't say she felt particularly proficient with the weapon, but Raven was patient, Raven persevered. Like clockwork, tick tock tick tock. The days would blur and life would be monotonous... if not for the two little tramps, Moon and Star. Who were they, exactly?
--
You see, Raven was prone to curiosity too, as any human might be. As any creature might be. One day, sitting in the kitchen of the tavern, idly peeling carrots while leafing through her journal, she chanced upon the incantation she'd noted a few days ago. Mumbling it under her breath had done nothing, although perhaps it was because she'd briefly paused to talk to Ra'ed about that day's special. Conversation over, she guiltily returned the booklet she'd swiftly hidden back over the table edge, glanced at the incantation again emptily while her mind ran over the day's responsibilities and exhaled heavily, sighing out the words. And suddenly, there it was. A puppy. In the kitchen.
The two blinked at each other, Raven meeting the dog's vacant amicable gaze. Where did it come from? Why was it here? She'd just wiped the floors too, she didn't need a mangy mutt messing up her kitchen. Dismounting from her table perch, she scurried to shoo the dog out, noting with perturbation how the door was still securely shut and locked from the inside-- and her hand simply phased through the pup. She recoiled in shock and surprise, and the dog gave a little yelp too, scrambling clumsily to its feet. It was young, perhaps no more than 4 weeks old, or the equivalent of it in an Earthen dog's timeline; it still walked unsteadily, with little paddle like motion, and tilted its head curiously, taking in every detail with its dewy eyes and soft floppy ears. Raven curled her lips, unbolting the door loudly and pointed at it firmly. What was this dog? How was she supposed to kick it out if she couldn't touch it? How did it get inside?
Grabbing a broom, she advanced threateningly, waving the business end of the tool in the dog's face, who pranced away with loud, frantic yips - whether they were of fear or excitement, Raven did not know. She wasn't.... well, she wasn't not fond of dogs, but she wasn't exactly... familiar with them either. And she certainly had no intentions of growing to be familiar with one who was messing up her kitchen floor and disturbing her from her work. Speaking of messing up, the puppy had cleared suddenly gained solidity because it had grabbed a mop in its tiny little mouth and was repeatedly and very spiritedly tugging it. "No, don't-" Too late, down went the mop, crashing noisily and clattering across the floor, bumping into the waiting bucket of water for the half-peeled carrots, and suddenly the entire kitchen was flooded. She let out a little sound of discontent, carefully picking up the bucket; to its credit, the dog had startled and was now shamefully hiding in a corner somewhere, guilty of its crimes. Clicking her tongue but taking care to not slip and fall - she had a distinct feeling she could still break bones in this world - she crossed the kitchen floor, disgruntled at the pup, but equally curious. Was this a summon? She'd read about them, but what was this doing here?
She paused, finding little value in chasing an ephemeral dog around her kitchen, now that it was sopping wet, no less. She clicked her tongue again, picking up the mop gingerly and letting it lean against its perch again. Her mind buzzed with thoughts - the only logical conclusion was the incantation she read out. She hadn't thought that simply reciting the words would be enough - it shouldn't have been enough, surely? With a sweeping glance around the kitchen and finding no trace of the pup, she clambered back on her stool and leafed through the pages of her notes. Yes, right there, the words would facilitate the process, but it was conviction that really made the magic happen. She shut the book, pursing her lips in concern. She could not control what she could not understand, and yet...
To cut to the chase because this post is getting really long, a few more recitals later, and one entire more puppy sitting in the puddle on her kitchen floor later, she decided curiosity did, after all, kill the cat.
--
Life hadn't been too hard with the dogs. Explaining their presence to Ra'ed had been. She'd received an earful that day, and rightly so; it takes time, effort and money to raise animals, and Raven wasn't quite ready to turn into full time pet parent. But when she'd first discovered that the summons, much like herself, didn't seem to experience hunger or fatigue, a smug look from her had been enough to have Ra'ed settle back down rather hastily. Luring them out of the tavern with some toothsome morsels had failed to work, and yet she spied the pups rooting about in the trash for a slightly too burnt dish, or the bones she tossed in there. They seemed to eat out of desire, not requirement, and that was both a small relief as well as a big worry. The worry was so because they seemed to flicker between an apparition and a corporeal body, seemingly at random, out of their control as well. One day she watched as the two, Red and Blue, chasing each other, ran full tilt at a door. The first pup passed through, and with entire confidence unbefitting a dog that has been existing for less than a week, the second puppy sallied on too, only to crash unceremoniously into the thick wooden door and dissolve into a whimpering lump. She had felt a twinge of alarm, and after caring for the spectral creature as best as she could, alarming prospects had begun wafting into her mind. What if this switch between solid and shadowy happened when they were still... in the process of passing through an object? She'd shuddered at the thought, and since then taken special care to always leave the doors slightly cranked open.
The dogs were excellent waste disposal, and she often found herself sweeping her peelings and chopped vegetable ends onto the floor, where the curious duo would promptly lay their mouths on it. She'd started with some concern; the dogs were young, and she'd heard onions were poisonous to dogs. It would take very little to poison a pup as young as these - but here atleast her worries had been unfounded, and the dogs carried on in woefully perfect health. There was no respite, they did not sleep out of requirement, so there was no scope of tiring them out with exercise - she simply had to endure their yapping by day, and threaten them into silence as best as she could by night. Once, she'd taken them with her to the slime plains, by daylight so she could keep an eye on them. They were summons, they ought to do battle, no?
Wrong. One nasty hit from a slime struck the apparently corporeal dog so hard, and it let out a howl so heartrending that Raven found herself running to the rescue, spear in hand. One frantic combat round later, Raven had run all the way back to the tavern, a dog in either hand, leaving her belongings unattended to in the field until she returned with some awkwardness to retrieve them.
It had been two whole weeks, and the dogs seemed to grow faster than their Earth counterparts. They were far from full grown, but they certainly looked more... dog-like. Their muzzles had lengthened out, their bodies were now physically differentiable from each other, and so were their personalities. Raven had no names for them, she called them whatever she wished at the moment. Crow and Pigeon, Skoll and Hati, Black and White, Wile. E Coyote and Roadrunner. There was so much she did not know about them; and you cannot control what you cannot understand, after all. But that was set aside for today. Today was the day the potatoes she'd painstakingly dug up two weeks ago would be extracted from the fermentation tub. Hopefully they would have fermented into an alcoholic solution ready for distilling, and if all went well, soon they would have the first man-made sample of vodka in their hands. It was a busy day for Raven, and as she wiped down the tables of the tavern, she was kept busy planning out the rest of the afternoon, including when she was to start the distilling, where was she to set it up so she could run it through the night, preferably a corner that was safe and away from the dogs, and maybe if there was enough to be set on the menu for tomorrow and if Stagnant responded to it the same way humans did and if it even made what she thought it would make and if-
