45th of Winter, 514 A.V.
Fish Market
Fish Market
Walking down the street with little feet pounding on the cobble stone, reaching high to hold his mother's hand, a little boy giggle with giddy as people rushed this way and that to reach different food stands in the market. He bounced as he went on his way, not falling souly because of the mother that held him up. His head twisted around, looking up at the people before his eyes caught onto a tree in the middle of the path.
With mouth open and eyes following the long strands of the Willow tree, he eventually caught sight of a small sign which he could not read. Below that sign was a blonde man, along with some drawings beside him, worked silently with the charcoal in hand. The boy smiled, stamping his little feet more with a loud giggles of glee. His arm waved and pointed to the man, he looking up at his mother who hardly bothered to glance as she lead him to and past the young artist. With a smile as the man reached further into the distance, he turned away and continued to walk on.
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With eyes still curious as ever, the little boy was walking down the path of the Market once again. With a season having pass, the boy now didn't have to look up to high to see the people who rushed on by. He continued to laugh at all the commotion, smiling as he, once again, walked with his mother who held his hand, assuring herself that he wouldn't wander away. He pointed occasionally at a stand with cooked fish, or a large, bulky sailor with a tattoo across his arm. He would slow down to stare, though he was always quickly urged to move on with a soft pull. He'd quicken his pace and reach his mother again.
Reaching the end of the market, the boy's eyes once again fell on the willow tree, lowering his gaze onto the blonde artist who's head was lowered, staring at a white and bandage around his hand. The child chuckled briefly, gently leading the women over to him. But with some distance now cut from between them, and the happenstance that the area around them turned to soft mumbles, the boy could hear a soft whimpering. As he passed the the man's left, he saw the glimmering tears that rolled down his cheeks. The boy slowed once more, blinking with mouth open. His mother urged the child to continue one, which he soon did. But he looked up at the women wearing a long, unflattering dress. "Mama." He called. "Who's hat man?" He looked up curiously.
"He's an artist. He's been here for a while." That's all she knew.
The boy looked away, now staring ahead of him in thought. But he was soon distracted by various other people and things.
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Another season passed like the blink of an eye, and once again the boy found himself in the market place. His mother stood in front of a vendor, discussing the cost of the various fish the man had. With hand held beside his shoulder, loosely gripping the cold fingers of the woman, the boy looked and wondered about other things. He squinted as he looked at the partially clouded sky, then relaxed as he watched vendors across the street. There was almost always someone talking to the men and women behind the stands, but he only watched each conversation briefly before he looked for something else. His eyes caught sight of the tippy top of the willow tree down the street. The top branches swaying ever slightly in the breeze. He giggled at the thought of seeing the man again, and as the mother finished up, deciding against the fish, he quickly lead her over in the flora's general direction.
After some time of weaving and tugging on his mother's arm, they reached the tree, yet this time, there was no man sitting under it. The sign that hung on the low, broken branch was gone, there were no paintings or drawings. The child blinked with a frown on his face, turning around to see if he was coming. He wasn't there. After searching for several ticks, his mother staring at him with confusion, he finally hollered, "Oh mster man! Where re you?!" The mother was startled and she quickly pulled the yelling child to herself, bending over to looke at him.
"Stop that, you don't yell like that, okay?"
The boy nodded hesitantly, lip pouting. The mother then smiled and straightened out, continuing on her way with the child beside her. He looked over his shoulder, still searching for the artist that had been around for a while, yet never spotting his unruly and curly locks.
He continued to do this for several seasons. Each time the tree was even more barren than before. There were no signs of the artist, and the boy frowned each time he found the tree alone.
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Nearly a year later, in the harsh, cold winter, the young child was now just a child, walking next to his mother instead of holding her hand. He continued to watch the people passing by but with much less intent than before. He watched the ground move and clouds fluff instead, occasionally making sure he was by his mother in her black dress.
The market wasn't as busy as in other seasons, due to the harsh Bonesnapper that nipped at everyone's noses and ears, but it was not abandoned by any means. People still crowded the streets with heavy cloaks and jackets, begging and haggling for fish and food in which was growing more and more scarce each day.
The lady stopped by another stand with a few fish laying on it, beginning to do her now ritualistic bargaining with the man there. The child on the other hand simply looked around at the dullness of the winter. Even the leaves on the Willow were shriveling off and landing on the frosty cobblestone. Yet still, the tree was abandoned.
The boy gave a soft sigh, a white plume bursting out of his mouth.
He started to turn back to his mother when from the corner of his eye, he saw a bright, golden bushel of hair nearing the tree. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped, watching the man return to his rightful spot under the tree. He slowly sat down and placed a book in his lap.
With a bright, joy lifting grin, the boy squealed, stomping his feet and glancing at his mother who was still discussing the fish. He turned away and quickly started to rush over to the artist, however stopping suddenly to look at the ground. He spun around before finding a brown pebble with dark grey streaks in it.
He fiddled with the rock in his hands for a few seconds, but quickly giggled and started to rush over to the man again. However, his mother had glanced over and saw him running off. "Sean!!" She cried running after him.
