PM to join Do you even lift? [Richard]

[Cosette Merryweather]

30th of Winter of 513 A.V.

This was the heart of trade and commerce in the known world. High grade magecrafted items, ancient pre-valterrian scrolls that carried almost forgotten information, swords bearing gnosis of gods from near and far, one an all could be found here if one had the means and the money.

But it was no outlandish item or rare information Cosette was purchasing from this place. The item she had procured was something ordinary, a simple commodity, a bag of potatoes. Able to survive in cold soil, protected from the elements by it's virtue of being beneath the ground this crop was arguably one of the biggest sources of nutrition in the region. Consider the fact too that it could be stored for months on end only increased its importance as an agricultural crop. But as much as as Cosette loved potatoes she was starting to get annoyed at them.

The bulky brown sack was heavy, too heavy for a girl of her stature to lift for too long. Her progress was slow and halting. She carried the sack, moved a few paces forward and set it down before her arms gave in. This was one of the reasons she hated being a nuit, their power was little more than enough to achieve mobility and even with the little boost from the djed dancing within her limbs - a feat she accomplished through the use of flux - she could not maintain her power.

She sighed, annoyed that she couldn't use morphing either at the risk of looking inconspicuous. But at least she was making some progress... that gave her some cause for comfort, and she couldn't feel as cold as she used to when she was alive, so that was still a plus.

The girl slapped both her cheeks lightly with her two hands and composed herself. This wasn't hopeless, she could do it, she only needed the will. Her body would manage somehow, little steps... little steps... and failure. She faltered and almost fell - and would have shattered a knee - if she hadn't latched on to table with armor on display. The stall keeper scolded her harshly and she apologized hastily before returning her attention to the potatoes that had spilled unto the ground. She picked them up, one by one, rubbing them clean on the hem of her skirt...

Being employed was sure troublesome business... but it did beat being broke.

[Richard Burke]

Richard had made his way to the Bazaar after many bells of training, and a nice, warm bath, he was going to head to the Stallion for dinner soon, but he wasn’t quite hungry yet. He looked over the stalls of the rare, and sometimes magical items- he didn’t know if they were really magical, he had no real experience with magic, though he did posses the desire to learn, but he simply never had the time. He passed a stall of spices from across the Syliras region, so the man claimed, the smell was overwhelming, and no unpleasant to the squire, but he fought the urge to sneeze as he moved to the next booth. It claimed to have the best mage crafted items in the whole world, not that the squire knew what that meant.

And he continued to wander that market, tucked into the bowels of the hold, until something caught his eyes. He noticed a young woman, struggling with a bad, over laden with potatoes. The woman appeared to be young, she gave off a slight sends of wrongness, as if something wasn’t right about her, Richard shivered, and the feeling went away- probably a sneeze, stuck in his nose, he thought. He watched her for sometime, as she struggled, trying to decide if it would be wise to interrupt the woman to offer to help, as she might become offended, or she might even hold a dislike for the knights, as some people did, even in the city of Syliras. Then, she fell to the ground, the potatoes tumbled across the market, and Richard was slightly amused, as he slowly made his way towards the woman, cutting through the crowd, as his arming sword dangled from his belt, with a quiet jangle.

He knelt down, grabbing a potato nearest him, and he brushed off the dirt, a whole futile endeavor as dirt from the farm was still caked on the root. He handed it quietly to the woman, as an introduction of sorts, he wasn’t very skilled at talking, not like the merchants who sold their goods in the busy market. “Hey, would you like a hand, miss?” He offered, just loud enough for the woman to hear over the sound of the market. He was already starting to pick up a second potato, not waiting for her reply.

[Cosette Merryweather]

She hated it, this horrible, horrible issue with newly acquired hosts. They were always difficult to synchronize with in the first few days, wearing them felt a little like how one would move when they just came to from oversleeping. The body was slow to respond, often too weak to do manual labor under normal circumstances. She sighed, complaining would not help her case, she had to remedy her situation soon. It meant that she would have to redouble her attempts to familiarize herself with flux...

"Well," he was already helping her out wasn't he? She couldn't very well refuse his kindness. "Only if you have time..." she mumbled weakly, gratefully. "But I will make it worth your while. I work at the Herald's Arm, if you come with I can make you something there... though it might be too much of a pain to get your help with carrying this."

"Either way, I'm an assistant chef there and sometimes we have extra ingredients... I'll not forget your charity... if its within my ability I'll make it for you, is there something you want in exchange?" she was nearly done loading all the potatoes she picked up into the bag and with help from the squire the job had become significantly easier.

Perhaps bribing him with food wasn't the smartest idea, she did have golden mizas to offer... that was one of the advantages to being dead. Living expenses were something you did not truly have to consider. Embalming expenses or the procurement of dead bodies what a different can of worms however.