raychel Chores

*Raychel turned from the flowers she'd just placed and begins to bend and pick up the laundry that littered the floor. Gathering it, one by one into her arms, she places pile after small pile into a large woven basket. The clothes were of delicate nature, and she did not wish to ruin or soil anything, so she was very careful in her movement, albeit thorough.

Finally, after it had all been collected, she lifted the basket into her arms and left the chamber once again, walking down to where she knew the sisters were, those who were also cleaning the clothes of their Masters and Mistress'. Smiling to them, she could tell they noted her black mood no longer plauged her, and she began to, one by one, dip the clothes into the prepared water, scrubbing gently. Beside her, one of her sisters, she had missed who, placed and empty basket that she may place the wet clothes inside. She nodded her thanks without looking up, even as she scrubbed the first piece of clothing.

Once it was scrubbed free of sand, sweat, and dirt, she began to very gently, wring the water from it. It fell like rain back into the water it'd left.

She continued the process, one by one, each piece of clothing taken with careful manner. She loved the way they felt, she thought quietly, the clothes of the Free. Though she loved her silks and chalwar, these were more sturdy. Seemingly more comfortable. She kept her thoughts to herself, lest she be razzed for it, and continued to wash, the chatter around her making her smile. Finally, she wrung the last piece of clothing and placed it in the now full basket, leaving the empty for another sister to use if she so chose.

Lifting the heavy basket into her arms, she began the walk back to the line that she'd been only maybe an ahn before to beat the fur. Feet pressing into the sand, dusting between her toes, she ignored the sweat that had beaded then began to fall at her brow. Stepping to the line, she began to hand the clothes from it, pleased that the slight wind and hot sun would dry them beautifully.

As she hung them, she hummed quietly to herself, in much better spirits. Raychel admired the way some of the clothes nearly shimmered in the sun from where they hang. Taking piece after piece, she placed it on the line, pleased that they would dry well enough to be put away in just a few ahn, and oh how her Ubar and Ubara would be pleased to have fresh clean clothes to wear. Hanging the last piece, she grabbed the basket and lifted it, dumping the water, before setting it beside the chamber opening. Nodding, she entered again, to finish the room.*

*Rubbing at one eye, Raychel eyes the chamber, now nearly finished. Turning, she lifts the water pale into her hands and steps from the chamber again, ready to walk to a well to fill it. Stepping quietly across the sands, her mind wandering even in her movements, she doesn't at first notice when her foot sinks slightly deeper into the sand than is normal. Odd, that, she takes a step back looking down, the pale still fixed in her arms. Stepping forward again, she pressed her foot to the same spot, and the action repeated, her foot sinking slightly more than normal into the sand.

Making a small sound of wonder, she bends to her knees in the sand, placing the pale beside her. With a hand, and all her weight behind it, she presses it to the same spot, curious as it again gives under her motion. Scooping with her hands, slowly, she begins to dig, terribly curious at what she'd found. Digging, she piled the sand beneath her hands, scooping gently, but swiftly now, curving the sand to the sides of the small hole she was creating.

It was taking quite a bit of time, but the sand she was pulling now was no longer the soft rough sand heated by the dessert sun. It was cold and almost hard, and she knew in that brief moment that it was sand touched by water. Smiling at this, she continued to dig, fervintly now, as she was nearing the cooler part beneath the ground. Finally, her hand broke water, and she cried out, pleased at her find.

A guard, hearing her cry, approached without warning. Reaching his hand into the hole she'd dug, he measured, about an ah-il, and spoke this aloud. Raychel clapped her hands with delight at her find, and the guard, with a soft smile to her, placed an arrow just at the side of the hole, nodding.

Shaking her head, her day completely turned around, she rose from the sands, lifting the bucket once more, to make her way to the well to fill the bucket, as she had set to do at the start.*

very good reads sister

Thank you, sister.

awesome Ray, love to read your work , this one knew it was worth waiting for -giggles-

loved reading your chores sister... glad you took the time to do it right..
you shine as a kajira

Shookran First and Second Girl. *smiles*

Very well done ray. very nice read and well put together.

*Sighing softly, Raychel woke slowly, stretching her arms over her head and arching her back in a long stretch. She lay there for a long moment, blinking and waking before she rose, placing the silk over her frame. Rubbing her eyes as she woke, she glanced outside for a second smiling as the day had just woken as well. Fastening the silk lightly she padded into the sand smiling for it was not yet too hot, and began the walk to the kitchens. She was in a baking mood.

Entering the kitchens, she glances around at the emptiness of it, the smells of the breakfast foods wafting to her nose. Someone had certainly been here before her, she thought to herself quietly. Walking to the wash basin, she placed her hands beneath the water, dimples poking for it was still warm to the touch. Scrubbing at her hands, she scrapes her nails across the surface of them to be sure suds make it beneath them for proper cleaning. Reaching, she picks up the drying rep cloth and wipes the moisture from her hands. Stepping away, she crosses her arms over her breasts, thinking quietly. Glancing about at the foods, she notes what is missing and grins, pleased.

Rubbing her hands together she steps across the area and to the dark room. Lifting a bowl from the shelf, she smiles at the cool surface, pleased that it very clearly had been freshly washed, she lifts it into her arms. Reaching, her hands moving in different directions, she grabs most of the ingredients. The Sa-Tarna, the small bag of flour, white sugar, and the container of salt. Carrying them all back into the kitchen, she places the bowl on the counter.

Stepping away from the counter, she moves to the hearth, nodding that it was well set, and grabs a pan from over head. Dipping it into the basin, she washes it swiftly before drying it, and setting it on the stove. Grabbing a clean measuring cup, she measures out two cups of water to heat while she mixes ingredients.

Reaching up, Raychel pulls the curls behind her head, the soft feeling of the hair brushing against her arms as she does so. Carefully measuring, she adds the flour first, a cup at a time. Using the trick she was taught as a young woman, she grabs a sifter and places the first cup of flour inside, shaking it so there are no lumps in the bread. She does this with each cup until all the flour is in place, and sets the sifter into the wash basin to be cleaned when she is finished. Turning back to her task, she ties off the flour bag and continues. Next, she measures out 2 spoonfuls of the yellow grain, stirring gently. Taking another clean spoon, to avoid cross contamination of ingredients, she adds a spoonful of the white sugar, tying that bag off as well. Finally taking a third spoon and adding the smallest amount of salt. After all the ingredients are together in the bowl, she takes a moment to mix them all together. It blends smoothly and, though it is darker than the breads she made before because of location, she nods that it will be pleasing.

Turning, she lifts the nearly boiling water from the stove, and pours it over the dry dough, before placing the pan too in the basin. With a large wooden spoon, she begins to mix carefully, smiling at the little bubbles that pop the surface. Rolling her eyes at her forgetfulness, she unties the flour bag and sets a bit on the dough so it is well floured. Taking the lump now from the bowl, she begins to kneed it with her hands, firmly pounding into it so it is strong, but not so that it would break teeth when cooked. Placing it back into the bowl, she leaves it to rise.

Grabbing three loaf pans she smiles, lifting them to the basin to wash, and turning, places them too on the counter. With a very small amount of butter, she greases each pan carefully, so the bread will not stick when cooking. Turning from the counter so that the bread may rise, she sets to washing the dishes she used, and replacing the ingredients in their place back in the dark room, each bag tied and sanitary.

Whistling softly, she sweeps around the kitchen area, and tidies the counters in wait for the bread to rise. When it has finally done so, she washes her hands again, and moves to the dough. Lifting it from the bowl, she pounds at it, separating it, and places each new ball into the pans. Lifting them each in turn, she moves and places them in the open hearth. Closing it, she walks to the door and waits quietly watching the goings on of the Oasis. Not one to feel comfortable sitting idly, she moves across the area to the throne room to tidy.

When the smell of the bread wafts to her nose some time later, she smiles, wiping her hands together and steps to the basin to clean them again. This done, she grabs two rep cloths in her hands to pull each pan from the oven. Setting them on the counter, she smiles at their look, nodding. Replacing the cloth, she leaves them on the counter to cool.*

wow, your so amazing, this ones mouth watered wanting a thick slice with verr butter hot form the oven mmmmmmmm

Fresh baked bread, an all time favorite. Well done .

looking forward to your 3/3 chore sister love your words

your bread looks so yummy..

*Tired, and slightly annoyed, for the babe within had made her so, Raychel raised her chin, refusing to let this babe make her weak. She was proud, as was her nature of breeding, though it did not effect her service to the Free. She refused to allow this now, even though her limbs were weak with fatigue and her head pounded with it.

Stepping across the sands, she glances down as her feet press into it gently, nodding with thoughts. The verr were loud when she approached them, prodding her with their noses. Her laugh was bright, for she so loved the animals, and she pet the head of one, curving her hand along the horn, feeling the rough and ribbed texture. Though the headache was ever prevalent, she turns from the verr to the large bags outside the fence.

Lifting her foot, she steps over it and lifts the bag into her arms. It is not light, but not too heavy, and she is nearly a month now as it were, so does not fear. Opening the tip of the bag, the grain spilling only a bit, she pours a bit of the contents into their open troughs. Smiling, she speaks softly, cooing words, as the verr rush to the food. Raising the bag, the troughs now full, she seals it off with a pull of string, setting it back in it's place.

Padding away, she moves to the well, carefully pulling at the rope and lifting the large and full bucket from the depths. Nodding her head lightly, she grips the handle in the curves of her palms, and steps away from the well to return to the verr area. Pouring the water into the water troughs, she holds the now empty bucket in one hand, reaching with her free and to pet behind the ears of one soft brown verr. Her voice lifts in a soft coo again, before she steps away to return the bucket to the well.*

*Raychel smiled across the Oasis, the sands brushing along the flesh of her legs. She was restless, and anxious, and she was fairly certain it was her current punishment of no furring that caused her flesh to tingle at the mere contact. She needed to distract herself, and with the new diet the Master Physician had her on, she was feeling less tired, and quite energetic. The only way to distract was physical labor, and with a nod, she lifted her hands to her unruly curls, piling them behind her head. Tying it gently with string, she turned to the large cages, sitting in the sands, empty. The sisters had been moved to the palace, she was sure, but took this as a good opportunity to clean the cages that sat in the sands.

They were in terrible condition, and she frowned. Sand fleas jumped, she could see them from where she stood, on the sands, pale sapphire hues glaring at the offensive creatures. She hated bugs. Shuddering, she lifted the broom, holding the rough stick in her hands. The straw was thrusting out in different directions, and she nodded, noting to herself that a new broom would have to be made. For now though, she nodded to the nearby guard, who opened the cage for her in a single switch of a key.

Entering gently, she flinched, dancing on her feet, attacking the fleas with the broom. Small squeaks escaped her throat as she slammed the broom to the ground in effort to kill the bugs. Getting no where, she began to sweep, frantically, picking up sand and dirt with the motion, sending it flying into the air. She blinked, rapidly, as it neared her eyes, and she sneezed. And sneezed again, a annoyingly squeaky "choo." She blinked as her eyes began to tear, and sneezed again, "choo."

Growling, she began to sweep between sneezes, clearing the floor of dirt and sand, tossing it back out into the sands where it belonged. A flea hopped on her foot and she raised it and shook it like an animal, biting back the scream in her throat, and it fell to the ground. She raised the broom, like a bat, over her head and slammed it to the ground where the single offending flea sat. Her face screwed up in disgust, she lifted the broom a bit, seeking under it for the flea, and not finding it, her eyes narrowed.

She began to sweep again, moving to the corners of the cage and sweeping carefully and between sneezes. Finally finished, she held herself on the broom gasping. Her hair, though partly tied back, had frizzed in a mass of curl haloing her face, and dirt and sand clung to the skin. But, she'd effectively temporarily forgotten her need. Setting the broom against the side of the cage where it belonged, she nodded to the guard again as he released her. Wiping a hand across her sand streaked face, she padded across the sands to the kennels. She'd need a bath.*

All I can say about the work done in your chore is wow! I love the pictures

*Raychel woke slowly, blinking her eyes, her arm cast over her forehead. She yawned loudly, patting at the fur beneath her back, pleased she'd managed another good night sleep thanks to her Ubara and allowing her to sleep on the furs save the kennel floor. Rolling carefully to the side, she managed to get her arm underneath her, before raising up to all fours, her curls spilling about her face. Using her hands, she pushed slowly so she could rise to her feet, hobbling backward only once. Holding the hand on her belly, she thought quietly on what the Physician had told her the day before and tried to think of the best possible chore she could do in the circumstances.

Stepping across the room, she left it's depths and moved to the kitchen to eat breakfast, so that the babe would be strong. Taking a tospit from the bowl into her hand, she ran it beneath the water for a moment before taking a large bite, the juice leaking a bit down her chin. She reached over the belly and pulled the silk up a bit, wiping it across her face, before taking another bite. Waddling, she stepped to where the slave dishes were kept, and pulled out a wet, probably having been freshly cleaned, wood cup. Grabbing it in her hand, she stepped away and to the dark room. Taking another bite of the tospit, she held the cup in her arm against her body, so that she would have a free hand. Reaching, she grabbed the skin bota, and lifted it to pour herself some water.

This done, she replaced the bota and didn't even leave the dark room before downing the glass in one gulp. Breathing a soft sigh, feeling better, she finished the tospit and washed and replaced the cup, before exiting to her Ubar and Ubara's chambers once more. She was ordered to rest, to keep off her feet, and not even to kneel when waiting. Biting her lip, she stepped across the sands and into the chamber, brushing aside the fur that hung as a door. Tapping her chin in thought, she stepped to the closet and opened it. There, in their glory, sat a large pair of her Ubar's boots.

Perfect.

Bending at the knees so she did not strain herself, she lifted the boots carefully, she rose, and she stepped to the furs on the floor, and placed the boots on the floor beside them. Pleased, she stepped back to the closet, and bending at her knees again, grabbed the dubbin jar, laced with beeswax, into her hands. Grabbing the cloth next to it, she stepped away and back to the fur. Taking a seat on her rear, crossing her legs one over the other, she blinks taking the boots close to her crossed legs.

Lifting the first one into what was left of her lap, she grabs the dubbin, opening the jar and carefully setting the top beside her , she scooped a generous amount into the cloth in her hand, and began to wipe it over her Ubar's boot, stroking the surface with the material, polishing gently. She made sure to circle her hand, curving the cloth along the front, then top, then just before opening. Her brow furrowed slightly in concentration, her lower lip twixt her teeth, she polished the boot until it shone in the dim lamp light, before setting it aside and beginning on the second boot.

Being just as thorough, she polished in slow smooth circles, concentrated and smiling at the sound of bells and drums coming from outside the chamber. This Thursday was the slave day of celebration, and she was anxious and excited, hearing the preparation of her sisters as well as musicians. Finally finishing that boot as well, she places it with it's brother, before closing the dubbin jar. Setting the cloth down, she rocks to her hip so she may get some leverage, and rises carefully. Bending at her knees again, she lifts the boots, and carries them back to the closet, freshly polished and shining. Turning back to the fur, she grabs the cloth and jar and returns them as well to the closet before stepping away. She huffed a breath, annoyed that merely rising and sitting could be tiresome.*

Well done raychel, Ubar would be so pleased for this

*smiles* Thank you, kindly, Mistress.

Omg why are u mot writing books love reason hope work always. Great read thanks for taking me with you

Well done on your chores sister raychel.. this one has to agree with Second Girl.. your writing paints the perfect pictures.

You're both so sweet. XD Thank you both. ♥

Looking forward to reading your chore for this week *smiles*

*Sighing, after replacing the boots, Raychel nodded her head once, curls bouncing about her face with the motion. There wasn't much she could do at this point, for the baby was ready any day now. She'd spent a lot of time resting and doing what small tasks she could but her thoughts were a jumbled mess as of late, and she couldn't seem to get them to stop. Rubbing her hands together, flesh over flesh, she turned back to the closet and smiled as the mending basket was full once more.

Bending at the knees, the girl picked up the small basket of needles and thread, lifting them and rising, holding them to her left side. Being very careful of the giant elephant on her waist, she bent a bit grabbing the baskets handle in her right hand, pulling it instead of picking it up. Wincing slightly at the effort it took, she brought it to the fur and sat carefully with a breath of relieved air. Tipping the basket, the clothes fell at her feet, and she smiled at the finery. Crossing her legs before her, she grabbed one garment first, clearly that of her Ubara.

It was purple elegance. Smooth in her fingers, and she marveled at it for a moment, smiling softly, before she began to search for the reason it was in the mending basket. Frowning, she found the tear. It was long, about the size of a tarn feather, and looked actually ripped. Her smile was automatic, curving over her lips, and her face flushed. She shook her head gently, and set it in her lap. Reaching over to the mending basket, she opened the top and took out a needle carefully. Threading some purple thread through the hole, she began to stitch. In, out, turning the fabric over in what small lap she still had.

Nodding her head, she folded the clothing, before setting it aside. There was another garment in the basket and she reached over to grab it in her hands. This was less smooth, less silky, but it's soft blood color, swirled with other darker hues, told her it belonged to her Ubar. She bit her smiling bottom lip, noting the two tears in the chest piece. She shook her head. Apparently, her Ubara could return in kind, she thought quietly to herself. Still, she pulled the purple string from the thread and reached for a soft brown, to match the fabric. Poking the needle into it's surface, she began to sew the pieces together.

When this was finished, she folded it to, and placed it on top of her Ubara's clothing. Replacing the needle, she closed and tied off the mending basket and rose her body to her knees. Carefully, and grabbing the basket again, she turned back to the closet, to replace the items. Then, turning on her heel, she lifted the clothes in her hands, and set them gently on the bed of furrs.

love your chore raychel, very well done.