Vacation

"You really need a vacation, Tika."

Za'kal's words echoed in the royal chef's head for hours. A vacation? No, no. Ra'tika did not take vacations. She was a busy woman, and busy women kept cranky, equally-tired Rastari (like Za'kal) fed and happy. Fed and happy Rastari meant that Dazar'alor could be well-protected. So no, she could not take a vacation. Not even if T'sarah took over her duties. Which the other chef could do with no difficulty, of course, but--

Chop, chop, chop. 

Her hands went through the motions of preparing tonight's meals, chopping up vegetables to effortlessly dump into the massive pot of stew that seemed to always be churning out heat and a scent that could pull you in from a mile away. It was the "alternative" meal for those that didn't want whatever else had been cooked up, usually kept going for months on end thanks to the steady input and output. Only once had it nearly emptied-- it was shortly after the siege on the Pyramid.

That was all she really remembered from that night. The smell of the stew, and the sound of her knife on the cutting board. It had almost been enough to muffle the screaming, the crying, the mournful cries of her friends and colleagues. Enough to drown out her own thoughts. Can't be letting her mind drift when she's got a knife in her hands that could chop off a finger without much pressure behind it-- but then again, it wasn't like it mattered when she had such a high regeneration rate.

"Vacation.. pah," she murmured to herself, eyes unfocusing somewhat as she started on the next set of meals. Bite-size chunks of kodo meat. Not exactly something she commonly prepared, but it was a special request from some of the boys. "Where would I even go, eh?" she murmured as she breaded the handfuls of haunch and tossed them in the large pan behind her, the sizzling like music to her ears. She sighed.

Where, indeed. She'd been to Orgrimmar once or twice, but found it.. boring. Dry. And kind of smelly. Not to mention the unwanted attention she'd received from a few ballsy males. She wasn't worried, of course. She had enough muscle and literal firepower to put down a Dire if need be... Maybe Northrend? She'd gotten a glimpse of it when she was sending meals out to the Rastari that were deployed to assist with the Scourge incident last year. Not Icecrown, of course, but.. maybe somewhere else. Snow was really the main draw, there. Living on an island that was hot and humid 24/7 meant that even the occasional cold front didn't last long at all, and usually she was too deep in the kitchen to feel it regardless.

Ra'tika drifted across the kitchen to grab her tongs, then proceeded to flip over the pieces of kodo meat to make sure they cooked evenly. A rogue bubble of oil popped and sent the burning-hot liquid spitting across her stomach, but she paid it no mind. Another scar to keep. The only type of battle scar she was permitted to have. Za'kal and Va'ki would worry too much if she actually got into a combat situation. To be fair, she'd be worried, too. An intruder this deep into the Pyramid meant a lapse in judgment on the part of the Rastari.. or worse, it meant they were dead. At least she'd assume her death would be quick at that point, if this hypothetical intruder were strong enough to get to her in the first place.

But she didn't want to think about that. All that did was bring her back to thoughts of the siege. Almost immediately, she turned to start chopping vegetables again.

Chop. Chop. Chop.

An intruder this deep could kill Talanji.

Chop. Chop. Chop.

Kill her friends.

Chop. Chop. Ch--

Her knife slipped, slicing a fat chunk off of her second finger. She hissed in surprise, her little ears folding back in displeasure. But as soon as it happened, it healed over just as quickly. Bone, sinew, flesh. Good as new. She sighed, and tossed the sliced-off piece of digit into the bin before running the same hand through her mohawk.

Maybe she really did need a vacation.