Day 25 of Summer, AV 512 The Great Bazaar |
Ash'eny felt his feet taking him places. Since his return to Syliras, which hasn't been but a few days now, he's done little besides hunger and wander the great fortress of a city of Syliras. Yet, despite remembering almost nothing of the city itself, his body found everything here to be familiar. I guess a year in a city was not as easily ignored by the body that thrived here for so long, as it was the mind. His mind, however, had been devastated. Even now, Ash'eny wandered, not out of boredom or curiosity, but because he saw a figure, one that existed only in his imagination. The shadowy figure without any features to expose him as to who he was, except, Ash'eny knew it was himself. A past himself, in a sense, if that even made sense. The Thief was watching a memory of his, except in a much more vivid sense, like he was a bystander at a theatrical performance. Only, he knew this couldn't be, because he was both the actor and audience. That was impossible. So, what was he watching then? Well, Ash'eny figured he had some sort of sixth sense, though was still having difficulty grasping its purpose, or how it worked. In reality, he was just chasing mental images in circles. He was crazy, in a "not-so-violent or not-in-your-face" kind of crazy. He kept what he saw to himself, though it didn't take an anthropologist to notice his eyes were wandering at a light-year per second, jumping from picture, to reality, to mental illusions, to another image, etc. His condition was to the point where everywhere he looked, what a person built of white and gray, fuzzy distorted people without faces, and only black circles for eyes. Right now, he was following that image that he knew was himself. Ash'eny watched as his own fuzzy colorless self tried to steal from someone, only to get knocked to the ground and chased out of the bazaar by other distorted faceless people, muttering and chanting in unknown dialects. Ash'eny then realized (or was convinced that he understood what he was being told) that these images where telling him things that were to happen, but could change. Ash'eny, he needed to eat, he had lost everything in the djed storm, not a copper miza nor crumb of bread was left with him. Now, the only reason he wasn't naked, was because he had to steal clothing from a small little homestead just outside of Syliras City-Walls, and even then the farmer's clothing were worn, smelled like shyke, and were about a size too large for his thin frame. Ash'eny moved, feeling that familiar twitch of anxiety tickling his nine fingers, and even the missing digit on his hand, odd sensation that was. Ash'eny moved with surprised quickness and deadly tenacity. He knew what this was because of how he felt, the familiar hunt, the acts of a thief. He was going to take something, from this very Bazaar, he just didn't know what, or from who, but his hands were now in employment doing what they did best. Ash'eny found himself moving skillfully through the crowds of the Great Bazaar in Syliras's underbelly, and already his head was teeming with plans and ideas. He needed food, but stealing an apple was hardly worth it. If he could lighten someone's purse by a few coins, then he'd eat for at least a few days, maybe even find a room to stay in. He was good once, he could tell, he just needed to return, and possibly even improve. "Please, I haven't eaten in days. Will you please share a few coppers?" Ash'eny was surprised to find himself nagging an older woman for money, begging, another oddly familiar action that he didn't remember using in the past. But it was obvious, he knew about it now. "I just need one good meal and I could get my strength back, I could find work. I just need enough for a meal." But, begging was neither a proud job to have, or an effective one in some cases. The woman, who had been pulling out her purse for the purchase of some wooden craft, likely for a child of hers, glanced at Ash'eny and scowled, giving him a quick rough shove with her unarmed hand. Ash'eny, used this to his advantage, allowing himself to trip and fall, grabbing onto her arm as he did, thus causing the both of them to topple a stumble upon each other, woman on top of man. The lady jumped up quickly, gathered her things, muttered some swift unintelligible apology behind grinding teeth and a furiously red-flushed face, and practically ran away. Obviously, she was torn between hating the homeless Ash'eny, and feeling guilty for shoving him. Ash'eny grunted as he pulled himself up to a sit, for not a soul offered a hand to assist him. Yet, when he opened his clenched fist, he saw, as he planned, a shiny silver pair of coins. It wasn't much, but at least today, he could eat something. He didn't much enjoy taking money from hardworking ladies, and she didn't seem like the type that had an overabundance of funds, but he needed it more than she did right now. Surely the gods would forgive for this. Ash'eny tucked the two coins back into his fist and pushed himself up to a stand once again. He glanced around slowly, his gaze unconsciously following another fuzzy distorted image of two people, armed (knights perhaps?) dragging a third figure between them. He felt fairly good about his two-silver catch though. |
