Completed With the First Frost

[Ireth Telemnar]

Winter 5th, 513 A.V. With the come of the first frost on Nyka, Ireth fell deeper in love with the city. She also decided that she was going to need warmer clothes. Had she awoken in her lover's arms, Ire wouldn't have given much thought to the warm temperature of her room. This morning however, she woke up alone and uncomfortably warm. She sat up to find that she'd kicked her blanket off onto the ground. 'Wasn't it chilly in here yesterday? What has Vysia got the Hostel so bloody hot for?' Bending her arms up over her head in a stretch, Ireth got up off of her bed and wandered to her window. What she saw took her breath away. Under the dark gray masses of cloud that blanketed Nyka, the city was a land of glitter and sparkles. A sheet of frost had covered everything for as far as her eyes could see. The radiance of Nyka was a white and dusty-rose puzzle built from stone and ice. The walls of the old buildings that surrounded the Hostel were aglow with the frost. Her mouth opened in awe and Ireth went to lean against the window pane. She pushed her fingertips against the glass for only a second before jumping back in surprise. It was cold! She noticed the frost upon the pane and laughed. The temperature must have dropped last night significantly, that was why Vysia had the Hostel so warm. Taking care to keep her skin fron the frigid glass, Ireth looked down onto the street. Men and women and children went about bundled in their warmest. With a twinkle in her eye, Ire noted how adorable the women were, wrapped in striped wool blankets, their baskets tucked up under their arms. Cold as it was, the day was beautiful, and Ireth wanted to play her flute today. Launching herself into motion, she bundled herself up as best she could, grabbed a handful of mizas, and took up her flute. In the lobby, she asked Vysia for breakfast. The monk gave Ire a once-over and shook her head. "You're not ready for the cold, girl. You're gonna freeze." Ireth hummed thoughtfully. "This is all I have..." The elder woman snorted and went to retrieve the food, muttering as she went. "That courier is gonna get her killed. Doesn't he tell her anything?" Ire bit her lip and crossed to the SafeHaven's main hearth, where tongues of flame licked eagerly at a stack of logs the size and length of her arm. She watche dthe fire as she waited, contemplating the day. When Vysia returned with a bundle of food, the monk sighed. "Take my advise, girl. Buy yerself some heavier clothes. Winter's a beast, petching cold outside. You'll need cover to keep from catching sick, ya hear?" Smiling, Ireth accepted the rations. Even if the older woman didn't want to, Vyisa cared. "Of course Vysia. That shouldn't be a problem. By the way, where do you think would be a good place for me to play today?" Vysia reached around her waist and retied her old stained apron tighter. "If I were ye, I'd simply play here. Folk've been askin' about the girl who flutes in her room here. But knowin' you, ye want out." She folded her arms and assumed a solid stance, her gaze flickering without seeing as she thought about her city. "I'd say that the Herring Square'd be yer best bet. Its over yonder in the Eastern Quarter." Ah, someplace she'd never been. Ireth nodded. "Sounds wonderful! Thank you!" She patted the monk on her arm and headed for the door.

[Ireth Telemnar]

With that first step outside, Ireth laughed at the truth of Vysia. It wasn't that she'd doubted the monk, that would be asinine. She just hadn't recognized just how cold it was. She tugged her cloak tighter to her body and began her trek through the Celestial District, with its tall buildings aglitter with frost. The people seemed cheery despite the cold. And although a breeze blew chilly air, Ire noted that the monks she saw didn't have their hoods up to protect their heads and faces. She shook her head, wondering at their logic, but who was she to question the actions of some of the most violent people she'd ever encountered? The bridge that linked the Celestial District to the Eastern Quarter was called the Bridge of Beginning. Not the longest or widest bridge, Ire had heard that it had been the first bridge to cross the gap that was the Aperture. She supposed that made it special, and there were people on it and standing before it praying to one of those four gods, the Celestials, that Savio had told her about. The prospect of people worshiping gods that weren't her Lord Rhysol still sat uneasily on Ireth's mind, though she wasn't entirely against it. It wasn't her place to undermine the thoughts and ideas of other people, though she knew her mother would disagree with her wholeheartedly. Birine was a diehard Rhysol worshiper, sometimes with such reverence and vivacity that even Ire got a little wary. One woman on the Celestial side of the bridge was an older woman, a dark shawl covering her tough shoulders, with her hands in the air and her face to the sky, speaking and praising one of the deities. Ire sidestepped around her but couldn't help but notice some of the beauty in her words, the praises that painted pictures of caring and dependence. Ireth smiled and crossed the bridge, feeling as though today was going to be blessed. Stepping down from the Bridge of Beginning, Ire took a deep breath of the frosty air. She was getting better at getting around Nyka on her own, though she wouldn't claim to know much about it yet. Just simple facts that she picked up from her days in the SafeHaven and from Savio. The Eastern Quarter was a district abuzz with businesses and politics, it being the part of the city where shops abounded and markets were. It was also the Quarter closest to the sea, giving the Eastern Quarter the odor of fish all the time. Ireth picked her way along the cobblestone streets, going with the flow of the passerby to avoid getting run over or pushed into the path of carts that reeked of their freshly caught load. The Herring Square... Savio'd never mentioned that before, but Ireth had passed by it once on her way to the sea. From what she'd seen, it was a bustling place full of noise and happenings. A spring in her step, she let herself accept the fact that she was excited to be out, despite it being so petching cold. Cold... Before she went to the Square, she needed to do as Vysia had bid her: buy some warmer clothes. Ireth brought herself out of the flow of the people for a moment to collect her thoughts and to take a look around. She'd been here before, this part of the Quarter was called... She racked her brain for the name. Oh yeah! The Flaxen District.

[Ireth Telemnar]

Home to a good majority of Nyka's shopping, the Flaxen District was host to a slew of stores selling clothing, furniture, pottery, and more. People walked in and out of the shops with their arms laden with packages and bundles, stamping their feet and warming their hands against the onslaught of cold air. Children hid amongst the skirts of their mothers, little boots pounding the cobblestones. Men gaffed and clapped their hands together, attempting to appear immune to the chill that surrounded them. But behind the color and light of the shops and stores, the District also housed a darker part of Nyka. It was where the city of the Celestials kept their slave market. Ireth was no stranger to the slave market. Nearly half of the Ravokian population had to be slaves, owned mostly by the wealthier families like the Nitrozians and the Lazarins. The common Ravokians held some slaves too, the Telemnars had had one once, when Ireth had been very small, named Contessa. She'd helped Ireth's mother Birine keep her business going as she attempted to raise six children whenever Zhidynach went out to fish upon the lake. They'd had to sell the slave again though, when it got to be too expensive to keep her on. In Ravok though, a good portion of those in slavery were not human. It wasn't uncommon for non-humans to come into Ravok only to be forced into servitude. Nyka was the same, in retrospect of having a large number of slaves. Ireth hadn't had too much interaction with the vassals of the city. But, from what she had seen, the treatment of slaves was quite a bit harsher in public than it was in her city. It seemed that owners didn't have much of a problem showing their thralls that they meant business in the middle of the street or the square. Ireth stepped out of the pedestrian flow and up against a building to collect her bearings. Looking around, she scanned the wooden signs that hung from the storefronts. They swung back and forth in Winter's wind, their hinges creaking in time with each other. A potter's shop, a tantalizing store selling musical instruments, a quilter. There was an older man who'd set himself up with a little cart along the street, selling pendants and bracelets made out of thin metal. Sighing, Ire crossed her arms and shivered, spinning another rotation. There had to be over a dozen clothing shops in the Flaxen District, and she wasn't finding one! It was one of those moments when she wished she had Savio with her. One, because she didn't like being misplaced. And two, because he was some sort of human fire and always kept her warm. Ireth closed her eyes and pictured herself in Savio's arms. Back in her Hostel room, the daylight gone, her little candle lit... The wind ripped by, sending frost flakes up into the air. Ire's eyes flew open at the sound of wood striking metal hard. Looking up, her eyes squinted against the cold, Ireth noticed another of the hanging signs. It had escaped her search because it hung almost directly above her. If she hadn't have been so cold, she would have smacked herself in the forehead for her stupidity. Oh Lord, if Savio had seen me now, he'd be laughing until he fell on the ground. How stupid of me! She made her way to the door, attempting to fight the wind. But just as she was about to reach the door, her boot hit a patch of frost upon a cobblestone. Her leg went forward and her body went back. Ireth flailed out as she went down. But someone caught her. "Oh, careful there lass! Surely wouldn't want you hurting yourself." A man helped her upright. As she got her footing again, Ire looked up. He was a middle-aged gentleman, smiling warmly with a mess of dark grey hair. Ireth gave him a flustered, grateful smile. "Thank you so much mister." And as she went to grab the wrought metal handle to the clothing store, the man reach around her and opened the door for her. Ire smiled a thank you, not thinking much about his generosity until he followed her into the boutique.

[Ireth Telemnar]

Upon her entry into the shop, Ireth stamped her old boots upon the doorway to remove the damp dust and small frost flakes. She made her way inside, moving in and to the left of the entrance to allow the man inside. She must have given him a quizzical look at him following her, because he grinned at her and winked. "I'm the owner of this establishment, girl. Can I be of some assistance?" The shop was small, its walk-space sparse. Clothes were folded and stacked upon wooden shelves that lined the walls. Candles stood in the windows, keeping out the cold and to illuminate the room. A trio of mannequins were in the room, wrought without heads from wood and covered in a sampling of the boutique's finer pieces. There was a counter in the back, and a woman sat behind it sewing something that Ire was unable to identify. A small girl-child played with scraps of fabric upon the floor in front of the counter. A handful of people were looking through the wares, one haggling a price with the woman behind the counter. Ireth smiled, the place was so homey and peaceful. "I'm looking to purchase warmer clothing. I've come to Nyka from a... warmer climate, obviously unprepared for the chilly weather." The man nodded and waved her over to one rack. "You'll be wanting a jacket. These ones here are made by my wife and other Nykan tailors. Finest quality in the city, reasonably priced too." Nodding, Ire thumbed through the stack. Nykans, it was all too apparent to Ireth, were connoisseurs of brilliantly colored clothing. It was as if they were walking rainbows, so much so that Ireth sometimes felt as if she stuck out in her gray tunic and black cloak. But presented before her were jackets of blooming-flower proportions: reds and oranges, greens and purples. Why must they all be so beautiful? I'm only looking for something simple, I'll be afraid to dirty these... Finally though, she came upon one that was a light blue, a color that reminded her of the sky over Ravok in the early morning. "I like this one." The man smiled and waved her over to another rack, this one lined with long foot-wide strips of fluffy material. "And perhaps a scarf? It'll cover your neck and keep your throat from growing hoarse with the chilly air." Again, they were all elegantly dyed. Shaking her head and going with the flow, Ireth pulled out one that was a soft green, like sage. Perhaps she can tone down the colors by keeping them soft and pastel? "You do seem to know how to treat someone from a warmer climate when it comes to explaining winter clothing sir. Do you get many customers from out of town?" With a twinkle in his eye, the gentleman nodded. "Aye. This part of the city is full of travelers and folk from out of town. They like the vivid colors that we Nykans wear, and buy many things from the Flaxen District. My wife and I do fairly well with the flow of those people. Where are you from child?" Ireth bit her lip and broke eye contact. She continued to avoid telling people that she was from the city of Lord Rhysol. Nobody took too lightly to her Lord, they called him evil and vicious. It was of great confusion to her, so she tried to dance around the subject. But she didn't want to push this kind man away. "I'm... from Ravok." The man shifted his weight from one foot to the other, clearly a tad put off, but he tried not to let it show. "The Floating City. We get a good handful of your people in here. They come to Nyka for trade and barter, sometimes searching for their land legs. They always go back though, to their blessed city. You're a ways from home." Ire nodded and hugged her clothing to her chest, not as uncomfortable as when folk normally went off about her Lord, but still on edge. The woman from behind the counter came up behind the gentleman and handed him the piece that she had been working on. "Oh Tynybi, it's perfect," he exclaimed. And it was. He held up a most beautiful dress the color of fresh green grass. It had long sleeves and reached the floor gracefully. It literally took Ireth's breath away. And the businessman didn't fail to notice.

[Ireth Telemnar]

"This dress is made of cotton. The fabric will keep heat in in the winter but will allow the body to breath in the summer. Does it strike your fancy, milady?" Ireth smiled and nodded, taking a hold of the fabric and letting it slip through her fingers. It was finely woven, soft and strong. The color was radiant. "It is awfully lovely. How much does it run for?" The gentleman looked to his wife, who nodded sagely and returned to her place behind the counter. "I'll let it go for 12 laat. You seem honest and appreciative of it." "Oh yes. My mother was a tailor for some of the finer gentlefolk of Ravok. I know a little about quality, though can't sew to save my life. And you'll have to forgive me, but I've only come bearing mizas." The man nodded and led Ire over to the counter. He laid out the dress and took the articles from her arms, laying them out as well. "Give me a moment to discuss the prices with my wife. Would you like any of this wrapped?" "Just the dress please." She laughed, "I'll need the other things for when I go out again." He tipped his head in approval and Ireth paced about shop. Oh another shelf sat piles of shirts. Again, simply an onslaught of colors. But one article caught her eye. Buried amongst the rest was something a deep, earthy brown color. Ire lifted the things on top of it gently so as not to disturb their folding, and pulled the shirt from where it hid. It was a men's shirt, dark with long poet sleeves. And around the neck and wrists were stars embroidered with a thick gold thread that twinkled somewhat in the candlelight. From behind her, Ireth heard a hum. It was the shopkeeper's daughter. She stood with a scrap of fabric clutched to her chest, gazing in awe at the shirt. Careful not to step on her cloak, Ire knelt down and beckoned the child closer. The girl glanced around, but stepped up to Ire and put her little arm around Ireth's shoulder. "What do you think," Ire whispered, as if the child and her were sharing a secret. "I have someone who might wear this. Do you think it is good?" The girl let out another hum, as if thinking. "Is he handsome?" Ireth raised her eyebrows and gave a solemn nod. "Very." "Then it is good," murmured the child, resting her head on Ire's shoulder. "A nice shirt for a handsome man." This child, she was oddly soothing. Ireth wrapped one of her arms around the girl and giggled. "How about I bring him in one day so that you can see him in the shirt that your mother's made?" Standing up again, the girl's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Oh, I'd like that very much." "Then I'll do just that." Ireth stood up as well, and the child led her by the hand to the counter. "I'll be purchasing this as well." The man wrapped the shirt and the dress in butcher's paper, tying it closed with twine. "That'll be 22 silver mizas my dear." Ireth fished the coins from out her purse, counting them out and laying them on the counter-top. She chuckled when she heard the little girl counting under her breath. Money accounted for and both parties pleased, Ire untied her cloak. "Hold this for a moment?" She offered it to the child, who took it and hugged it close as her hazel eyes grew wide as she watched Ireth. Ireth drew on the blue jacket first, buttoning its brass buttons carefully. Taking up the scarf, she knelt again and traded it out with the cloak in the girl's hands. "Can you help me put this on?" The child doubled the strip of fabric up and wrapped it around the woman's neck, easing Ire's long blonde hair out of the way. Then she slipped the loose ends through the loop of the scarf and tucked them into the neck of Ireth's jacket. Glancing down, Ireth giggled. "Perfect." Ire stood again and slipped her dark cloak over her shoulders again. "How do I look?" The child laughed and clapped her hands together. "Beauty-ful."

[Ireth Telemnar]

Ireth thanked the shopkeeper and his wife profusely before heading back out into the cold. She was much warmer, though the chill nipped at her cheeks, making them rosy. As she walked on, her packages beneath her arm and her flute tucked into her cloak, she couldn't help but wonder about the storekeeper's daughter. There was something about her that made Ire positively happy. The child had glowed with purity and simplicity. Ireth felt as though she definitely needed to see that girl again. She was so cute! It was early afternoon by the time Ire'd left the tailor. The Flaxen District was still bustling, something that Ireth had decided was constant all the time. Except at night... A shiver ran down her back and she clutched the packages to her torso. Whenever she slept with Savio, she paid the creatures and entities that prowled Nyka in the night no heed. But it was when Ireth was alone in her bed that she could hear them. Howling and snuffling, scratching and cooing. It was as if ice sprouted from under her covers, the way those things scared her. The hurry of the crowd's pace slowed when she left the District, only to be bombarded with the odor of fish. Ire wasn't put off by the smell of the sea dwellers, quite the opposite in fact. Her father'd been a fisher in Ravok, and the scent of the water reminded her of the Ravokian Docks, despite the added hint of salt. An eagerness joined her pace and, despite herself, her stomach growled when Ireth. When she arrived at her destination, she couldn't help but let its name float from her lips. "Herring Square..." Nyka's Herring Square was an enormous empty lot that was, at the moment, filled with stalls and merchants selling all manner of items. Cloth made from silk, satin, cotton, hemp was sold here from all over Mizahar. Pottery, objects of magical power, baskets and wooden objects. It was beautiful, busy, and smelled of fish. This was a common place for the fisherfolk to give away their catches, as selling food in Nyka was illegal. Not many food stalls were here now, more material items. And of course, this being Nyka, the people and displays were like rainbows of color, beautiful and bright. An air of enthusiasm filled the folk around. The first thing on Ire's mind had to be food. She made her way along the rows of stalls, passing a locksmith, two sellers of plants, a cobbler, three potters, a candle maker, and a bookbinder before she came upon a young man giving away bread. The smell of the loaves was heavenly, and though they weren't the best Ireth grabbed two. One to tide her over, and one to save for later. As she walked on, she took a bite out of one and wasn't disappointed. They'd been baked with herbs into them, sage and thyme she guessed. Another bite, and she stepped to one side to allow a couple of older monks passage. Now I need to find a place to play... Ire spied an empty bit of the Square between a bead seller and a blanket weaver that was about as wide as she was tall. Perfect. Ireth walked over and set her packages on the ground, up against the weaver's stall so that they were somewhat hidden from the view of prying eyes. The beadsman met her gaze, so she dipped her head in greeting. In return, he gave her a sneer and turned away. Well, excuse me... Ireth shouldn't have been taken aback by the gentleman's behavior, he wasn't the first nor would he be the last to have some general distaste for buskerfolk. Whatever.

[Ireth Telemnar]

She wasn't sure why she did it, but right before Ireth put her flute to her lips she closed her eyes and went still. All she saw, the insides of her eyelids, was darkness. All she felt was the feeling of her clothing against her skin, the firmness of the cobblestoned Square beneath her boots, and the warm softness of her flute against her fingertips. And all she could taste was the remnants of of that marvelous herb bread. But in taking this moment, she focused her energies on what she could hear and what she could smell. The noise of the crowds and the scent of the fish was prevalent, of course. But she searched the rest of the Square with her senses subconsciously. Just beneath the noisy folk was the muffled strummings and murmurings of other buskers, because she knew that even if she didn't see them, they were there. Buskers, Ire herself one, were always around. And unlike soldiers or merchants, buskers were in constant modes of listening, feeling, and learning. Sure, they were attempting to make a couple of mizas, perhaps even trying to feed themselves and their families, but they were going out amongst the people to do what they love. To bring music and joy to the people, all while watching and learning about the human folk that went about around them. And the smells. The odor of fish might even be considered nauseating to those unused to its potency, but it was simply strong to Ireth. But above it were the hints of animals, unwashed humans, spices and herbs, and leather. The spice dealers were working at full tilt despite the weather, selling the ingredients for healings and for candles, then bundling up herbs used in cooking. Thus were the smells of a city market, the scents of people and their lives. A smirk crossed Ire's lips when a child's voice reached her ears. "Mother, what's that woman doing?" Her eyelids opened, the afternoon sun glittering off of her soft blue eyes as they alighted on the boy. He looked kind of startled, then grinned. She gave him a wink and pressed the opening of her flute to her mouth. First, the lowest note. It was her favorite, accomplished by covering all of the finger holes. It was a solemn note that danced with possibility, because the lift of any one of her fingers could trigger a million different tunes, ones she had learned and knew and some that she could make up. This go round, Ireth decided to make something up. Her fingers began to dance, to weave themselves about as she blew into the wooden pipe. She had to take more breaths than usual because of the cold, but there was a point of breathing in a great deal of breath quickly only to release it into the instrument slowly without breaking the tempo or the tune. The notes remained low, flairing higher only every once in a while as Ire played a song that reminded her of the waves beating against the Docks of Ravok. It sort of fit, seeing as she was close to where Nyka met the sea. And amongst the sailormen and the fisherfolk, she felt as though they would understand her melody and find it pleasing to them. The song trilled once more before coming down to rest on that first, singular low note once more. More people than the boy and his mother had paused to watch her now, and a few stepped forward to press mizas into her hand. The metal was cold, and she thanked each person as they came to her. She slipped the frigid mizas into a pocket of her cloak. If she played well enough, perhaps she might even make up for the coin she lost today buying her goods. Her flute met her lips again and this time Ire piped a lullaby that had been a favorite in her family for years, one that had nothing to do with her Lord Rhysol and was therefore general enough to be played outside of her city. Her fingers were losing their feeling as they tapped away outside of the comfort and protection that the sleeves of her jacket had offered. Three more songs followed suit, but the pigeon totem didn't seem to mind the frosty air, and it pranced about as Herring Square began to empty of its patrons, the sun beginning to flirt with the glittering Nykan rooftops.

[Matthew]

Ireth

Experience Points:

• 1 Busking
• 1 Interrogation
• 1 Musical Instrument: Flute
• 5 Observation
• 4 Socialization

Lores:

• Children: Effectively Socializing with Small Children
• Nyka: Beautiful in the Winter
• Nyka: Making Your Way Around
• Nyka: Smells of the City
• Ravok: An Uncomfortable Word to Most
• Savio: Constantly Missing His Presence
• Slavery: Is Very Different in Different Places
• Winter: A Time for New Clothes
• Winter: What Clothes are Best
• Winter: It Can Be Really Cold

Additional Notes :

An excellent read. I enjoyed grading this!

If you have any questions or concerns relevant to your grade, don't be afraid to send me a private message so that we can work it all out! Please remember to mark your Grading Request as Graded.

A shout-out to Ollic Rimesage, who was kind enough to make this template for me.