Closed [The Herring Square] To Catch a Fish

[Amelia]

5th Fall, 515AV,
Fourteenth Bell.

The stench of fish still clung to the air from earlier that day. Nomi wrinkled her nose as she paced back and forth behind Thomat Vure's stall. Of all the tasks she was expected to do as his property, selling his wares at the Herring Square was her least favourite. The name was more than apt: she had never visited the square and it not smell horridly like fish.

Her owner stood next to her behind the stall, fidgeting nervously and tugging at his earlobe every so often with particular aggression. He was even more restless than usual, and Nomi suspected that it was because of their earlier conversation:

"I'm afraid that... I- urm--" He had stammered out hurriedly as they'd ambled toward the square, laboured with the materials and other petty trinkets he sold. Finally, after another couple of infuriating ticks, Thomat had finally declared in an explosion of desperate words: "you won't be working for me any longer after today. I'm sorry but...."

She had drowned out the rest of his spiel, having half expected this very announcement for several days. The Kelvic had been living with, and the property of, Thomat Vure for less than two seasons. Though her owner treated her relatively well, her addition to his life had bought few benefits. She could not sew or design clothes -- the only two jobs his new slave would be expected to fulfil in order to be of any use in his trade. Additional to this, Nomi was a painfully slow learner. If his other slave, Rosemary, spent an entire day teaching her a new sewing technique, Nomi would be able to recite perhaps half of whatever she had learned the following day. This exasperated both slaves to no end.

"Nomi, why don't you try and entice some customers?"

She blinked up to her owner and gave him a solemn nod. Music filtered through from the more central part of the square, but in truth she was in no real mood to dance. The skirt she wore was one of Thomat's own designs: it featured a thin under layer of purple silk topped with another layer of chiffon. When the Kelvic spun and walked, the material swathed around her legs in way that made it look almost liquid. It was a rather lowly garment, she had to admit.

The Kelvic moved away from her owner, seeping into the crowd to hunt down the source of the music. If she could catch the attention of even a few passers-by, she would become a walking advertisement for her owner's business. At the very least, it gave her freedom from his anxious and finicky presence. After a brief stroll, she approached a band of mismatched individuals, playing some catchy tune with a heavy beat. Slowly, she began to move, her weight forward on the balls of her feet and her hands holding out the uppermost layer of her purple skirt. She placed her feet downwards on each beat, and bobbed her head every so often in time with the music as well. But there was no enthusiasm in her movements, and even when she caught the eye of the thin crowd, she could muster only the most superficial of smiles.

[Loken]

Nyka was... strange. Not that strange was a bad thing, because it wasn't. Loken was usually one to adapt to the strange, only because if one didn't, the strange caused problems. But living in places like Sunberth and Ahnatep for most of his life up to this point was the issue. In Nyka the people were off, the buildings were different, and the sky hung strangely as if lightly pulsing with some type of wild djed. He had never been this far east on the mainland; and he did not Ravok since it was in the middle of a vast lake.

Loken found himself enjoying the scenic day so far. He'd spent most of the morning riding his horse aimlessly through the narrow streets. There was a logic to his random wanderings since he was never the type of man to do anything without reason, in fact his current objective was to witness how the citizenry operated in their day-to-day lives. He allowed his horse to control where they traveled, letting the creates satisfy its own wanderlust. All he had to do was keep the horse from heading down a densely populated street and keep himself seated properly on the saddle.

The city was proving to be beautiful. But someone had to come and ruin the moment because humanity was literally incapable of letting one another enjoy something nice. There was a subtle build up which led to the moment of akwardness. He had seen the elderly woman from several yards away, but was forced to pull back the reigns of his horse to slow the all black Eyktolian Desertbred to a stop. From what he could tell, the old woman stopped him for a reason.

The old woman was well past her prime, she was gaunt and haggard, with dead brown eyes and a mouthful of curses. One such curses she lobbed right at Loken. “Petching dark rider! Stalking out streets like some ill omen.” The look of malice on her face was full of disdain. Her expression appeared as if it could figuratively kill like Dira's scythe. "Dark rider?" He thought to himself as he glanced around. In comparison to the colorfully dressed population, he stuck out like a sore thumb in his bleak all black attire, black leather armor, and hook sword carried on his back; his back pack worn over it.

The old woman then began to pelt him with something that she pulled out of a small bag.

"What are you doing?" Loken closed his eyes to keep what he assumed was some type of herb from getting into his eyes. His voice remained calm and he resisted the urge to yell. The woman gave him the stink-eye the entire time. "Sage to keep the evil away. Begone!" He wiped his face to take some of the herb onto his finger and smell it. And just like she had said, it was the herb sage.

To avoid trouble he whistled sharply to will his horse into moving, pulling the reigns to guide the horse around the woman. When he approached The Herring Square, Loken dismounted from his horse to guide it through the merchant stalls and random entertainers.

When Loken first saw Nomi, he raised a brow. He knew the look of a passionless person very well. It was an expression he witnessed from many of Gnora's marked faithful while he was being trained by them in his youth. Otherwise, he would not have taken any interest in the woman's lackluster dancing. He stood at the front of the small crowd watching Nomi, his horse neighed and caused some of them to move away from the animal.

"Its strange. If I am not mistaken, shouldn't dancing be a joyous activity? You sway with childlike wonder, but seem empty. Why don't you stop?"