Astartes are a perfect example of a group project: everyone wanted their own little thing and somehow, SOMEHOW, it all mostly worked. Most of the time. The acid has many uses, including melting metal, but also does help with the ability to eat and digest anything, especially with his praeomnor.
He cautiously turns his hand over, letting Satchel decide where to rub her head against his hand, giving a cautious scritch behind one ear.
"I can pay you." Gadriel's still figuring out money but food doesn't come from nowhere like it did back on the Resilient, where you went to the refectory and there it was. "Or something."
But he's still hungry and there's the jar. "What's a herring?" He's not quite sure how to get them out of the jar. Just..pour it out? Reach in and grab one? Is there a utensil he should be using here?
Okay, but group projects are an absolute nightmare, too. Take it from someone who has of late made a career out of leading an artisan's guild.
"No, no, you're a guest! You don't have to pay me for food. I suppose if it became a regular thing I might need you to contribute for ingredients, but I'd rather just have you help me out with quests here and there, if you want to reciprocate. I'm very good at what I do, but fighting is not high up on my list of skills, particularly melee fighting."
"Oh, let me get you a fork, hold on." The question of what a herring is remains unanswered for a minute, as the gnome slips indoors and returns, with a fork, a spoon, a dishtowel, and a large (for a gnome) bowl of hot soup. Once again he sets everything down on the porch for the Sergeant.
"They're fish," he explains, and pulls the lid from the jar for him. The smell of the brine is sharp, not entirely unpleasant if you like that sort of thing. "You keep them in brine so they don't spoil. They're very salty, just to warn you. And there are some herbs and roots in there, as well, to add to the flavor. The soup is just mushrooms in chicken broth, with a little cream and sherry."
Gadriel would offer to reciprocate with food, but...uh. He doesn't know how to cook and Imperium food is probably not going to be popular around here.
Still, brotherhood required reciprocity. He could not just take and take, and the Archmagos had taken a look at his armor, now was working on finding a use for his venom, and now feeding him. "I already owe you for all the help you have given me. I am already in your debt. I would be honored to take any task you need done."
The salt of the brine was sharp, but he was used to hydration being highly salinated. It tastes like rehydration fluids, and something else, slightly astringent. He wasn't used to chewing things that tasted like rehydration fluid, but it was another new experience. He is debating offering the cat a portion--is he wrong or does she look interested?
For whatever it's worth, Barcus is enjoying the prospect of the many, many things he will learn from studying both the armor and the venom. Seems like a fair repayment for his assistance to him. Collaboration is his defining principle these days, though, and he's quietly collecting allies with every other move he makes.
"Oh, I wouldn't ask you to do things for me, but a lot of the quests that appear on the board are more dangerous than they look. I've already learned it pays to take someone stronger along. I'm decent with a slingshot and I can move rocks about, but I'm aware of my limitations." Sometimes he ignores said limitation, but he's aware of them.
Satchel is definitely interested, to the point where she's hopped off the bench and wandered closer, tail waving gently as she sniffs the air. "Satchel, be polite," Barcus says. "You get plenty of food from me."
"...do you like wine, Sergeant? Or is that sot of drink even available in your world?" He hasn't been very organized about this, else he'd have offered him a drink from the beginning. "Yes, I do most of my own cooking. I wouldn't say I'm all that skilled at it, just good enough for myself, but if you like it as well, I'll take that as a compliment."
"I would be honored to assist you, Archmagos. Within my abilities." So, no sorcery stuff. He's kind of...not a fan of that.
And Barcus chides Satchel, but Gadriel has a plan: keep the Archmagos occupied, and slip a bit of the fish to the smaller predator. Not that he doesn't like the fish, himself, but brothers share.
That was an opening he could use for his cunning plan. "We have wine. Or, our Chapter does, back on Macragge. It is not served to us, but only guests of rank. It is a luxury and a waste for those of us whose duty is combat." Here Satchel, would you like some fish? He offers a small piece in his palm.
Gadriel's clever plan is quite effective. Barcus sniffs with mild irritation at the idea that he's not important enough to merit a glass of wine. These things happen in wartime, he supposes; rationing can get far more extreme than that. But still, rude! "Well, mine is for my friends, and you rank high enough there. Here."
He rises again and bustles inside. Perfect opportunity to spoil the cat some more, and Satchel seems to realize it. You have a friend now, Sergeant. She places both front paws on that offered hand as if she could hope to pin it down while she accepts her treat. And purrs.
The Archmagos worries too much about Gadriel as a guest. He could literally feed Gadriel rocks and it would be more than he's used to. Lower the bar, Barcus!
But he won't say anything because he's entranced by Satchel, staying as still as possible so she could enjoy the treat. He had never seen anything like it before. He could see what were definitely predator teeth, but tiny. So small and yet so confident. He could crush her without a thought but she knew, somehow, that she was in charge.
"Do you want more? Or something else?" Because he can go murder some local wildlife for her.
Absolutely not, it's the principle of the thing! The bar is already lowered, though, on account of he really doesn't think the man will fit in his living room. Not in full armor, anyway.
While the gnome is inside, Satchel makes herself comfortable, finishing up the fish and kneading little biscuits on the heel of Gadriel's hand. She's a confident cat, innately friendly and...perhaps not all that intelligent. Once she's finished with the fish, and licking whatever remnants remain off his glove (he won't be able to feel the sandpaper tongue but maybe he can tell there's a raspy texture there from the sound), she licks her lips and makes a murbling sound at him. Good snack, thanks, bro!
Barcus comes out with a mug of wine just in time for this exchange and gives his cat a reproachful look while laughing very softly so as not to startle either of them. She's so tiny against the soldier's hand, and it's a little terrifying, but...Gadriel certainly wouldn't harm her on purpose, and he has enough perspective to realize how delicate she must be in comparison not only to him, but even to Barcus.
"She thinks everyone who visits is here for her benefit," he says. "I should have known she'd convince you to coddle her. It's all right for her to have a little fish, just ask me before you give her anything else. Some things people eat aren't healthy for cats."
He offers him the wine with an oddly fond smile. You're cute, you big weirdo.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2025-01-21 11:34 pm (UTC)He cautiously turns his hand over, letting Satchel decide where to rub her head against his hand, giving a cautious scritch behind one ear.
"I can pay you." Gadriel's still figuring out money but food doesn't come from nowhere like it did back on the Resilient, where you went to the refectory and there it was. "Or something."
But he's still hungry and there's the jar. "What's a herring?" He's not quite sure how to get them out of the jar. Just..pour it out? Reach in and grab one? Is there a utensil he should be using here?
no subject
Date: 2025-01-24 01:45 pm (UTC)"No, no, you're a guest! You don't have to pay me for food. I suppose if it became a regular thing I might need you to contribute for ingredients, but I'd rather just have you help me out with quests here and there, if you want to reciprocate. I'm very good at what I do, but fighting is not high up on my list of skills, particularly melee fighting."
"Oh, let me get you a fork, hold on." The question of what a herring is remains unanswered for a minute, as the gnome slips indoors and returns, with a fork, a spoon, a dishtowel, and a large (for a gnome) bowl of hot soup. Once again he sets everything down on the porch for the Sergeant.
"They're fish," he explains, and pulls the lid from the jar for him. The smell of the brine is sharp, not entirely unpleasant if you like that sort of thing. "You keep them in brine so they don't spoil. They're very salty, just to warn you. And there are some herbs and roots in there, as well, to add to the flavor. The soup is just mushrooms in chicken broth, with a little cream and sherry."
no subject
Date: 2025-01-24 07:32 pm (UTC)Still, brotherhood required reciprocity. He could not just take and take, and the Archmagos had taken a look at his armor, now was working on finding a use for his venom, and now feeding him. "I already owe you for all the help you have given me. I am already in your debt. I would be honored to take any task you need done."
The salt of the brine was sharp, but he was used to hydration being highly salinated. It tastes like rehydration fluids, and something else, slightly astringent. He wasn't used to chewing things that tasted like rehydration fluid, but it was another new experience. He is debating offering the cat a portion--is he wrong or does she look interested?
"You make all of this yourself, Archmagos?"
no subject
Date: 2025-01-26 01:06 am (UTC)"Oh, I wouldn't ask you to do things for me, but a lot of the quests that appear on the board are more dangerous than they look. I've already learned it pays to take someone stronger along. I'm decent with a slingshot and I can move rocks about, but I'm aware of my limitations." Sometimes he ignores said limitation, but he's aware of them.
Satchel is definitely interested, to the point where she's hopped off the bench and wandered closer, tail waving gently as she sniffs the air. "Satchel, be polite," Barcus says. "You get plenty of food from me."
"...do you like wine, Sergeant? Or is that sot of drink even available in your world?" He hasn't been very organized about this, else he'd have offered him a drink from the beginning. "Yes, I do most of my own cooking. I wouldn't say I'm all that skilled at it, just good enough for myself, but if you like it as well, I'll take that as a compliment."
no subject
Date: 2025-01-26 02:02 am (UTC)And Barcus chides Satchel, but Gadriel has a plan: keep the Archmagos occupied, and slip a bit of the fish to the smaller predator. Not that he doesn't like the fish, himself, but brothers share.
That was an opening he could use for his cunning plan. "We have wine. Or, our Chapter does, back on Macragge. It is not served to us, but only guests of rank. It is a luxury and a waste for those of us whose duty is combat." Here Satchel, would you like some fish? He offers a small piece in his palm.
no subject
Date: 2025-02-04 01:50 pm (UTC)He rises again and bustles inside. Perfect opportunity to spoil the cat some more, and Satchel seems to realize it. You have a friend now, Sergeant. She places both front paws on that offered hand as if she could hope to pin it down while she accepts her treat. And purrs.
no subject
Date: 2025-02-05 02:59 am (UTC)But he won't say anything because he's entranced by Satchel, staying as still as possible so she could enjoy the treat. He had never seen anything like it before. He could see what were definitely predator teeth, but tiny. So small and yet so confident. He could crush her without a thought but she knew, somehow, that she was in charge.
"Do you want more? Or something else?" Because he can go murder some local wildlife for her.
no subject
Date: 2025-02-06 01:14 pm (UTC)While the gnome is inside, Satchel makes herself comfortable, finishing up the fish and kneading little biscuits on the heel of Gadriel's hand. She's a confident cat, innately friendly and...perhaps not all that intelligent. Once she's finished with the fish, and licking whatever remnants remain off his glove (he won't be able to feel the sandpaper tongue but maybe he can tell there's a raspy texture there from the sound), she licks her lips and makes a murbling sound at him. Good snack, thanks, bro!
Barcus comes out with a mug of wine just in time for this exchange and gives his cat a reproachful look while laughing very softly so as not to startle either of them. She's so tiny against the soldier's hand, and it's a little terrifying, but...Gadriel certainly wouldn't harm her on purpose, and he has enough perspective to realize how delicate she must be in comparison not only to him, but even to Barcus.
"She thinks everyone who visits is here for her benefit," he says. "I should have known she'd convince you to coddle her. It's all right for her to have a little fish, just ask me before you give her anything else. Some things people eat aren't healthy for cats."
He offers him the wine with an oddly fond smile. You're cute, you big weirdo.