Closed Is It Crazy Talk?

[Firenze] A Doomsday discussion

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Center of scholarly knowledge and shipwrighting, Zeltiva is a port city unlike any other in Mizahar. [Lore]

Is It Crazy Talk?

Postby Eliro Darkcrest on July 28th, 2015, 2:28 am


69th OF SUMMER, 515AV
4th BELL, EVENING
THE DOCKS

The grunt work should have ended earlier. Of course, with an unskilled job, competent workers were not expected. So even though the task of cataloging cargo that was going on board was considered so simple a child could do it, the merchant soon learned that was false. After spending the day hauling crates of carefully packed paper onto a Khnor, the overseeing sailor had checked the inventory and determined it was charted wrong. Eliro, looking for a few extra Nilo, had offered her assistance in rewriting the chart correctly. So while it was still early in the night, the sea-woman considered herself staying late for work. Of course the untrustworthy Svefra wasn't allowed to simply wander off to copy the inventory, so she sat on a tightly tarp-wrapped stack of wood, meant for shipping out the next day, carefully dipping her quill in ink and filling in the chart correctly with painstakingly small handwriting.

"Not a child's job after all." The Svefra grumbled to herself in Fratava as she shoved the cork back into the ink. Blowing on the scroll, the Svefra looked over her work for a few minutes. Her handwriting wasn't perfect, but she was better with mathematics than the child was, and she could at least keep the item's logging in their correct columns. Pulling out the dented scroll that the child had scribbled on, she compared the work for a few ticks before nodding to herself. Ensuring the last of the ink was dried correctly, Eliro rolled the scroll up and tied it closed, taking the discarded scroll and sliding it into her Atani that she had tied around her waist. Perhaps these sailors saw it as useless, but she was a resourceful woman.

Gathering the ink and quill, the Svefra slid down from the pile of wood, dropping into the busy crowd of the docks. The merchant's sailors had been given the night off to account for the lapse to recheck the inventory and have Eliro fix the mess. So simple a child can do it should remain a saying. The Svefra smirked to herself, sliding the dry quill behind her ear so that she could weave down the dock towards the parchment merchant's Khnor.

She barely stepped onto the boat when the merchant emerged, snatching the scroll and ink vial from her. He tossed her a few Nilo for the day and turned around. Obviously he was angry with the delay, but he knew just as well as she that with the night coming so quickly, it was safer to delay a day than attempt to leave the Bay that night.

Returning to the docks, Eliro was preparing to shove past the various humans to return to her Casinor by the more private section, but something caught her attention. She was trying to slide past a a slightly intoxicated sailor and a whore who was attempting to lure him in for her own money.

"The end is coming! Beware, Beware!" The hoarse but obnoxiously loud voice rang out, and Eliro paused where she was, uncomfortably close to a slightly intoxicated sailor and a whore who was attempting to lure him in for her own money. "The end is near! Prepare, Prepare!"

Eliro rolled her eyes. Laviku spare my ears this misery. She chuckled, as the procession got closer, one preacher narrowly missing the aim of a empty bottle of rum. The morons forgot to prepare for the rough and excluding atmosphere of the docks. The faint of heart were not welcome, and by the looks of some of the robed preacher's, they hadn't seen the side of town that boarded East Street. The Svefra moved away from the redhead and her customer, nearing the shops once more. She found herself stuck behind the procession, next to a tall, and seemingly confident woman.

"Really?" The Svefra announced in Fratava, aiming her words at the gorgeous blonde and the sailor she had interrupted. "Who's shyke idea?" She grinned at the woman, unconsciously taking a whiff of her. She did so, because the woman beside her didn't smell of sea like she was used to. If the salt was not infecting her nostrils from the wind, it was mixed with the alcoholic tint of the many sailors she spent her time with, so the land-dwelling woman was a shock in scent if anything. "I thought it ready end!" She exclaimed in her second tongue, trying to goad a response from the woman, even if her Common wasn't perfect.



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Eliro Darkcrest
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Is It Crazy Talk?

Postby Firenze on August 5th, 2015, 4:08 pm

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Water lapped at the wood on the docks, the tall poles holding up the walking area showed lines where the water normally was, a low tide having come in. Watching the water draw in and pull back out her thought drifted toward Pulren swimming in the waters near the docks in Sunberth, Syna’s light shining on his skin, the same that had warmed her own.

The distraction of her thoughts helped to ignore the woman and the sailor who were being obnoxiously rambunctious in the middle of broad daylight. Harrumphing she turned her back toward them, at least I have enough class to keep affairs in private. That made her wonder if the woman nearby was from her establishment or one of the lesser ones. She’d not seen the redhead around the rooms before and that gave her the assumption that she wasn’t one of the girls she worked with.

A loud shouting came from somewhere down the pier, her eyes pulled away from the water, her mind away from the fond memory. Crashing and tinkling of glass was heard as a bottle was thrown at the crowd that was nearing where she stood. A breeze of the receding water caught her dress and pulled it against her legs. The caterwauling of the crowd reminded her of Sunberth and for a moment lost bearing of where she actually was.

Feeling the presence of someone next to her, a shake of her head to clear it, she redirected her stare from the preacher who was leading a slowly growing group of people chanting. The first thing to catch her attention was the intricate tattoo on the woman’s skin, Firenze admired it’s beauty and detail. Never having seen such a display as elaborate on skin it intrigued her as to why someone would decided to wear the marks.

Eyes drew up to the woman’s face and the beauty of it caught her breath. Fire generally didn’t go for the fairer sex but she definitely had an appreciation for the looks that the Gods had granted this particular woman. Did she work at The Touchy Subject as well? She was sure that Lilienne wouldn’t mind having someone such as her working there.

The woman called out in another language to the couple behind her that she was trying hard to ignore. A loud laugh came back in reply from the redhead. Another comment in the language and Firenze spoke up, “I’m sorry I’m not sure what you’re saying?” An apologetic smile came over Fire’s face.

“The end! The end is coming!...” the shouts were growing closer, making it difficult to hear over the chant. This time she could hear what they were saying and it confused her, what were they even talking about? Had they lost their minds? The woman next to her spoke again as they both watched the odd parade, this time it was in common and she tried to listen over the crier.

“Are they speaking of the world ending? Is that what you mean?” Her eyes turned back to the crowd, her brows furrowing. One of the men bumped into some of the barrels that were sitting nearby and the sailor that was tending to them shoved him and began adding his own shouts to ruckus. It was becoming quite the interesting scene on the docks.

“Why would they think the end is near to do you think?” Chuckling under her breath at the absurdity of the thought, a tinge of fear sparked in her chest as a thought popped up and wondered if there was any truth to the words the preacher called.

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Is It Crazy Talk?

Postby Dove Brown on March 30th, 2016, 12:19 pm

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