Chapter Text
For as long as she could remember, life tasted like dirt and blood. Miscellaneous minerals hung in her mouth, painting her tongue. Iron and copper clung to her chipped teeth, while dirt stung her cheeks. And this is what Mudrock had always known, even taken a namesake after.
Campfire cooked game, carefully quartered rations, cans of beans and rice and pudding all blend together on her palette. A lifestyle as nomadic as theirs would introduce anyone to a wide array of food, but her path was not one that gave way to fine dining or relaxing excursions.
Life tasted like blood and dirt, the kind that sunk past her armor and clothes and under her nails and eyes from marching and fighting. Led by thoughts of dreams of ideas of impossible opportunities of peace, have carried her legs through mud and swamps and gravel for longer than Mudrock cared to remember. There is scarce a time in her memory in which Mudrock can’t recall her armor weighing heavy on her bones like flesh.
And the battles shes fought. Violence did not escape her palate. Her feet knew too many lands, her head too many names, her hammer too many bones and her body too many injuries. The coppery taste of blood mixed with the tang of chipped teeth was a meal she had more often than dinner. So much so Mudrock would bet she could taste the difference between her own blood and others with the amount of weapons her helmet caught.
A life of almost monotonous bloodshed and bleeding would leave most warriors like Mudrock without a eye for food. Or, all that to say, Mudrock wasn’t sure what to think of the food in front of her.
The Rhodes Island cafeteria had served burgers for its patrons today. Mudrock has had burgers before, Big Bob had his own recipe for them which she much enjoyed, though the flavor of grit hung to those memories as well. But Mudrock had scarce indulged food that wasn’t made by her own team, or preserved. A matter of practicality turned into a nervous habit. Not that there was reason to distrust the fine chefs of Rhodes, Mudrock had no quarrel with them, it’s just she’d only been on their landship a couple weeks and this is the first thing she’d picked up that wasn’t prepackaged.
It looks unimpressive.
Under her helmet her eyes look around the cafeteria for the upteenth time since entering the room. Dinner was winding down already when she got here, and it’s only gotten quiter since. Still plenty of people though to speak of the capacity in which Rhodes worked with.
Mudrock didn’t love crowds. Eating in them even less. She trusted her own team with her very life, heart and head, but even then she saved her meals for her tent when she could. It was easier to be the face of a group when everyone saw the same inexpressive helmet, it’s harder to get taken by surprise when you’re always armored, and so many other little things were reasons she’d justified the habit with.
Now though, it felt just a little…silly. She blinks, still looking at the serving tray that held the overly simple hamburger. It looked cold. She did like her food cold.
Just as Mudrock is about to make up their mind, their attention is immediately grabbed by the sound of two new trays landing on the table she sat at. The large vacancy at Mudrock’s table are soon lessened by the arrival of two new operators. She didn’t know their names. She’d seen one of them before though, and for a moment there’s a pit of concern that digs into her gut when she searches her memories for which side of the battlefield they met on.
Shortish woman. Blondish bob. Longsword. Feline ears, but serpantine tail? No they hadn’t fought. And idly Mudrock prays neither have friends who did. The second, a purplish aegir of sorts is completely new. They’re chatting jovially as they sit down which gives Mudrock another inch of ease.
Bobcut girl acknowledges her first after the two become situated, “Heyo, these spots are open right?”
It probably would’ve been more polite to ask before sitting down but Mudrock’s been in much worse company. She turns to them and makes a grunt of approval, though she’s a little unsure if they hear it. Bobcut girl glances to her friend briefly before humming, they don’t leave so Mudrock considers that a successful enough conversation.
“Some food am I ri-“ The bobcut girl tries talking again, but unfortunately Mudrock was already in the process of standing up from the table. It’s a little awkward with her size, but she manages not to make a mess of things. Grabbing the tray of their food, Mudrock turns to leave.
She hears the pair mutter something behind her and for a moment her steps leg as she contemplates sitting back down. Maybe even talk to the two seemingly nice ladies, tell them, no they didn’t offend her she’d just rather eat alone. She’d rather eat her own food. Under the stars, if possible. But she didn’t. Instead Mudrock carried on with their pace and exited the cafeteria without a word.
Given the late hour it wasn’t too hard to find a quiet corner of the landship. Less than five minutes later Mudrock was seated on a bench in a dead end hallway, food tray on their lap and vending machine obstructing onlookers' view should they exist. Thankfully, the hall lacked the typical metallic footsteps indicative of company.
Staring at the burger again, Mudrock picks it up. It looks a little small in her hand, she didn’t know if most burgers were this small. Maybe Bob spoiled her.
A pang in her stomach reminds her of what she’s supposed to do with it. Another hand reaches up and removes the face of her helmet. Now unobstructed, Mudrock feasts. Crooked teeth and chipped fangs tear into bun and patty before disappearing behind marred lips that typically hid from the light of day.
The entire meal lasts roughly four bites, she doesn’t keep track of how quickly the fries vanish. The meal is over before Mudrock knows it. She blinks, and rolls her tongue around her mouth. A bit miffed it was gone so quick for as much hesitation it took to eat it.
It didn’t taste like anything. As far as burgers go, it was let down from her previous experiences. It wasn’t especially filling either. She couldn’t even taste the blood that usually hung in the back of her throat, hardly any clay between her teeth. It wasn’t a good burger, she didn’t hate it.
It wasn’t terribly unlike some of the meals she’s had before, many a bit bland and tasteless. But for whatever reason this one settled in her stomach a bit differently.
She doesn’t try to dwell on it too much and stands up. Affixing her helmet. Making sure all her trash is accounted for and not leaving a mess behind, Mudrock returns to the cafeteria tray in hand.
Upon returning to the entrance she is however met with one operator and staff member glaring at her. Doberman if she recalls correctly, which she does. Expecting her to say something, Mudrock stands there confused before Doberman nods her head towards a sign.
The cafeteria rules, reading them down Mudrock sees that the third requires all trays remain inside the cafeteria.
“Ah.”
She’d have to remember that next time.