>>5681983> Art: Mr. Junet (https://www.danaswari.com/product/rice-field-painting-dsw18-0002/)>Alt-text: An painting of a wide Rice Field with farmers harvesting rice. A river and a small hut are visible. You run after the sulking killer.
“Hey, 6! Could you ask around, see if anyone around here wants any help?”
They seem irritated but still honor your request if only to get you out of their hair. They yell into the bar.
6 Knife: Sema jakīñen ien jalūha mo māxtōni lā!
6 shuffles out the bar and a low growl follows them. That slowly grows into a roar. A horde of farmers swarm you.
Luckily, it's not the first time a dozen people wanted a piece of you.
“Hold on, hold on! Oh-ra! Are you still here?”
Ōra: Faithful from the Sea...
“Makana is fine, thank you. I can tell you’re on some rough times, so me and my crew are here to help. What do you need?”
Ōra: Time for the second mud-planting!
“Ah, shit.”
____
“‘Join the fleet’ he says. ‘Restart your political career’ he says. ‘You totally won't wind up yanking grass out of the mud so you can walk it 20 ananas to plant it in even MORE mud’ he says!”
Your work field is the bar, the halls of power, and occasionally the bedroom, not knee-deep in mud, dirt, and...
SHPLORP!
“What the hell is this?!”
6 Knife: Flying animal manure.
“Careful now! Any closer to a smirk and you’ll ruin your badass mystique. How are you so good at this anyway?"
6 plants the grass rapid-fire into the muck, almost like he’s stabbing the planet to death.
6 Knife: Before my service to freedom, sele a farmer.
They only slip out your language when they’re upset, seems that was a rough memory for them.
“Oh-ra, you do this all day and some dicks from the north just take all your hard-earned food?"
Ōra: Even outside harvest season, like now. Garden and Fountain Guilds with most of our stockpiled grain.
“This Guildless Peace must be real attractive to you, huh?"
Ōra: To all people.
____
You damn near pass out in a small shack they let you stay in.
You’re covered in mud and you’re basically sleeping on the floor, but after all that work, this feels like a warm bath.
“Fuck, farming is hard. How many plants did I do? Twelve? Thirty?"
6 Knife: Three.
Makana: Eat a dick, Knife. Don’t wake me until noon. I have a lot of thinking- sleep to do.
