.20 bells.
.87th of fall, 513av.
.87th of fall, 513av.
Syna’s light had faded quickly, throwing long shadows into the streets and down the alleyways. Under other circumstances, the young woman would have avoided braving those shadows. Tonight, she welcomed them, slipping along as quietly as she was able as she picked her way through the city. After half a bell of dodging and dipping, once even retracing her steps to avoid a suspiciously boisterous crowd of roughs, her feet slowed, stopping in front of a small store front. Inspecting the building from the relative security of the shadows, Nellie’s mouth curved in an expression of extreme distaste. The building in front of her, the butchery, was arguably one of the most unpleasant places to stand downwind of, and there was a good, stiff breeze blowing this evening. Still, necessity dictated that she endure the assault on her senses. After all, she could hardly go to the owner and request that he move his trash heap upwind for her scavenging convenience.
And scavenging was on the list for the evening; she’d been making her rounds and begging just a little too frequently as of late, and even old Merv had rather gruffly ‘requested’ she find a new doorstep to darken. Unconsciously she raised a hand to the side of her head, cupping her still-tender ear. His request had come along with a motivating slap that had left it ringing for a full bell afterward. Though it was understood that she would be welcomed back just as soon as his patrons had drunk her out of their recent memory, for the time being she was forced to find other means.
Despite that minor setback, Nellie tried to paint her options in the best possible light - that this was simply a new experience, fraught with exciting opportunity; though the reality of her situation was bleak and frightening. With winter fast approaching, and the dangerous killing winds that it would bring not too far behind, her every step was haunted by the dogged reminder that, if she couldn’t arrange for some form of shelter and regular food, springtime in Sunberth would welcome only her corpse. A shudder rippled through her, fear chasing a literal chill down her spine. With an impatient shake of her head, Nellie clutched her ragged coat more closely about her in defense, though the patchwork cloth and fraying seams let in just as much cold as they kept out; her mouth set in a grim line of determination and she glanced up and down the street before walking, forcing herself to appear casual, as she approached the butchery.
The smell grew stronger the closer she got, and Nellie’s nose wrinkled instinctively. The few small windows were darkened, signaling that the shop was closed, to Nellie’s relief. Still, it would be best not to attract undue attention, and she quickly flattened herself against the side of the building, hiding her slight frame in shadows as she made her way to the rear of the establishment – where she hoped she would find some sort of scrap left over, too old or too small or too undesirable to sell. Though it was a slim hope, the trash heaps of various shops around Sunberth were all she had left to fall back on – at least until she was welcomed back into the taverns with her tales of woe and pity.