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[13:00]  Talia Telling awakes in her cage, steel blue eyes take in her surroundings. New, small, cold. Though the ache in her belly is gone for now, she knows it will soon return. All she knows is she must work if the nice man is to allow her food again. She stands and stretches, pulls her thin camisk tight over her form, securing the rope about her hips. "T-tali must check chore list" she mumbles to herself. Work equals food, survival at this point. A place that is safe to sleep. "Dust Tables" it says. She recalls some tables in the Slavers house. And enters.

[13:04]  Talia Telling moves to the kitchen area, spies a stack of rep cloths and eases one out between long fingers. She snaps it through the air, adds a little olive oil she finds on the counter, lightly dampens the cloth, and lowers herself to her knees in front of the first table."T-tali make this wood l-look n-new again." she whispers. She recalls a woodsman, one who talked to trees, told them what they would be used for before he cut them down. "T-tree would be happy" she whispers, "Nice table like this."

[13:06]  Talia Telling begins in the center of the table, the cloth gripped firmly in her bronzed fingers, her arm directs it in circular, sweeping motions, then back and forth with the grain of the wood. She inhales the faint smell of the olive oil. She knows olive oil is good stuff, that it can be used for many things, but she does not remember how she knows this. A lump forms in her throat, she swallows it back. Tender knees shuffle around the table's edge, buffing the wood to a faint shine.

[13:08]  Talia Telling slides down on her belly, to check the base of the table, its underside, "B-better get that too" she mumbles, wriggling herself close. She extends her arm, the cloth in it, rolling it around the base, again circular motions, then sweeping to meet the direction of the grain. A flash, a cottage, perhaps when she was a young girl, playing hide and seek under the table, but with who? Her brow creases into soft lines as she blinks back tears, why was she SO confused. Why couldn't she remember? "W-work" she stammered. "Th-then eat"

[13:10]  Talia Telling moved on to the counter, wiping it down vigorously, her hand clenching the cloth tight, her movements feverish. Her belly growled beneath the thin fabric of her camisk. She would not steal though. She would wipe down every surface in the Slaver's house, then go ask the dancing girl in the tavern for food. She moved on to the mirror, dusting the ornate curves of the frame, pausing only briefly to look at herself in the glass. Was she beautiful? Or just plain. She did not know, the figure that looked back at her was hardly one she recognized. She turns and steps quickly to the bookcase, dusting each shelf, the spines of the rows upon rows of books.

[13:12]  Talia Telling crawls to the hearth, snapping the cloth back and forth across the bricks, raising a cloud about her, "ACH-ACHOOOO!" she sneezes, then again. Turning the cloth to the other side, she swipes it across the hearth's surface one last time, careful to collect all the dust bunnies inside. She takes it back to the kitchen area, dunking it into the soapy water, once, twice, and again before rinsing it out. She steps back, turns to look at the rooms. "L-looks good" she stammered, "N-now eat". She turned the large handle on the door, taking the cloth outside to hang upon the line. Now she would seek food.