Closed [Undeniable Interests] More Than Wasted Time (Sigrun)

[Wanda Endust]

Undeniable Interests
5 Spring 514AV
14th Bell


It'd been a while since Wanda had found herself here, but the building didn't seem to recognize the passage of time. There was just as much dust and just as many strange objects wasting away on the shelves as there had been the last time she was here, perhaps about a full five or six seasons ago.

She wasn't entirely sure why she'd stopped coming by the odd little shop. Maybe she'd gotten too busy. Maybe she just didn't see the point any more. Maybe she'd gotten bored, or maybe it was all of those things. Whatever reason, she didn't dwell on it. She was here now.

Procrastinating, that's what she was doing. There were still supplies to be bought, arrangements to be made. Things to do. Sleeping outside for nearly seventy days? She would need somewhere to sleep, or something to sleep in. A tent. And food. Wanda doubted that the other caravan-goers would let her starve -- or, at least, she hoped the people she would be paying at the end wouldn't. The thought never crossed her mind that, if she died somewhere along the way, they would be more than happy to walk off with her money and anything else she would bring.

Either way, she wasn't taking care of any such business right now. After so much running around, doing this and that and worry about that and this, all the emotional distress and mental drainage, Wanda wanted to relax. And what better place to relax than an old, decrepit shop of... stuff? It was the quietest place Wanda knew in the city, the walls somehow managing to block out the hustle and bustle just outside.

To her credit, Wanda had told herself she would search for anything that might be useful on a journey. It might have helped, though, if she'd had a more definite criteria for what such an item might be, because she now found herself standing at the back of the store in front of a particularly grimy-looking row of what she supposed was supposed to be a collection of texts. Really, they were mostly just rolls of yellowed parchment or leaves of paper bound together by strips of leather or twine. Gray dust clung quite stubbornly to the ragged edges of the papers, and didn't budge no matter how heavily Wanda breathed on them.

What was she even doing here, really? Not here, in the store -- she already knew what she was trying to do here (or, rather, what she was not trying to do). But she wasn't here for books or papers or any such thing. In fact, she didn't particularly want to read anything right now, and certainly not the kinds of grungy journals that these appeared to be.

Behind her, Wanda heard one or two other patrons milling about the stacks. Perhaps she could pester someone about a good place to find traveling supplies in the city?

Her muscles tensed ever so slightly in preparation to move away from the shelf she was currently staring at, but before she could shift her position her hand lightly braced itself on the horizontal wooden plank as if it had a mind of its own. Wanda cocked an eyebrow at herself and her sudden change of mind, letting her eyes trail to the cover sheet of the makeshift book closest to her fingers.

Upon reading the title, Wanda had to sigh to herself. Of course, it had to be on such a topic -- perfect material for her to waste away her time on. She could have simply let it go and turned her back. But then again, she really couldn't. Curiosity and all that.

Slender fingers trailed their way over to the volume, dragging it through the lumps of dust and closer to her face, leaving a clean path behind it. Notes was scrawled in chicken scratch in the very center of the cover, so sloppily that the only reason Wanda could read it was because it was such a short and singular word. Below it, in only slightly neater handwriting, was On Djed, Antoly Kahne.

[Sigrun Dominic]

It was the last place she would have thought Serena would take her. Sigrun wiped the sweat off her brow and sighed in both relief and disgust. Undeniable Interests, she thought sarcastically. The only thing undeniable about it was the difficulty in which she had forgone to find it.

Nonetheless, the auburn-haired Windmount urged her to give the place a go. They had spent the morning struggling to teach the young blonde how to properly ride her horse, and it was a surprise to neither of the two women how horribly wrong she had been doing it all this time. In her defense, Sigrun knew little and rode sparingly when she was a young girl, and the many times she made mistakes during their little ride around the pasture she proved testament to that truth. At least Serena had gotten a good laugh out of it, apart from a clean barn and groomed, well-fed horses.

Sigrun pinched her sore thighs and aching arms as she clacked her boots along the cobblestone, wondering to herself how she had ever allowed the young woman to convince her to waste her afternoon in a dimly lit house of hodgepodge.

"Don't come back until you've got me a book about horseback riding," Serena guffawed, unladylike in spite of the many times she'd proved more feminine than the young blonde.

"I don't care if it's shyke and tells you nothing," she added, unable to contain her laughter, "it'll tell you more than you already know either way!"

Sigrun's lips twitched in amusement. It had only been a couple days and yet she and Serena had already formed a friendship riddled with playful banter and mockery.

"I'm not that bad!" she'd responded with a teeth-chattering grin. By the end of the morning they had been on the grass laughing at her gangly legs making a show of how little she knew of even getting on the horse without having to be helped.

For all she knew, Serena might've been kidding about the book, but Sigrun was up to the challenge of finding one so bad that she would be confident enough to say that she knew more than whatever the scriber had written in it. By the time she was faced with the opened entrance she was certain of it, even if it would take her the rest of the day to find it.

She heard one last person scream about his new earthen pots and wares before all else of Syliras was silenced by the walls of the large shop. Shelves upon shelves of books and bottles and everything else she dared not enumerate muffled and devoured the sounds of the numbers stalls, shopkeepers, and hagglers that cared little for the eardrums of their companions.

Sigrun eyed the numerous heaps of papers and tomes that were being scoured by a certain robed patron who had been holding tightly in his hands a much cleaner bound book before finally giving up and leaving. Two other visitors were discussing in length while comfortably sitting amongst the dirt, dust, and rubble, their hands greedily running across a shabby journal that looked half empty from the young blonde's perspective not too far away.

The sudden silence was refreshing. The young blonde gave one pile of papers a once over and then quickly gave up on it. I'll be petching dead before I go through that, she thought with a wince.

Sigrun avoided the back aisles after smelling the stench that wafted off of the many bottles that lined the shelves. It appeared that some of them had shattered onto the floor not too long before she had come in. She eyed the random trinkets, odds and ends before finding a more decent set of shelves to observe. Without thinking, she grabbed a tome and eyed the front cover. A crusting sound made the shelves shiver in disgust. Once her fingers met with the leather she cringed at the thick layer of grime and dust that seemed to be growing on it.

Gross.

Her dislodging book did nothing to disturb the rest of the tomes that stood on either side of it. The row of spines stayed unperturbed and stuck together, quite possibly from the grey substance that mired their covers. Sigrun inspected the book's title and was disappointed to find that it was nowhere near about horses, but was instead an instructional journal by a sheep breeder and herder.

She sighed, already prepared to give up on the search. She looked up to eye the gaping hole where the book had once been, just in time to hear a bump on the other side and a mass of curly blonde hair whip to the side. Sigrun stayed stock still and watched as the head of golden curls finally stood still, and the sound of pages turning could be heard.

Would she be social? the young blonde thought, as she put the book back in its place and tried her best to casually move down the aisle and meet the stranger on the other side somehow. Perhaps the right place to look was wherever she was, or perhaps she knew where the right place was. Either way, Sigrun felt painfully shy about it.

Whatever, she thought stubbornly, as she shook her head and paused in the middle of the aisle and scanned the books that lined the top shelf. Socialisation could wait; she was here for something else entirely.

Her aquamarine eyes struggled with the strain of looking upwards. Sigrun blinked back the dull ache and wondered angrily to herself why she had chosen to waste her time in this dank place rather than spend some time over at Atta's at the Flower Stand, or perhaps figure out where she wanted to travel off to and finally buy what she needed and sell what she didn't. Impulsivity was not always her good point.

She was just about ready to storm out of the store when she caught sight of a spine that read, "In the Company of Zavians" and found that the term struck a familiar chord within her.

Zavian, she furrowed her brows.

That's a breed of horse! her eyes widened, Julien is a Zavian!

With a silent gasp and a gaping grin she reached out for the book eagerly, and in her excitement and dependency on the grey crust that she thought had kept all the books firmly in place, she ended up pulling the book out so carelessly that it made a dive for her head and hit her right at the center of her scalp. It made its way to the floor with a loud thud just as the young blonde reacted with a groan and a palm to her aching head. Perhaps now she would be obliged to socialise.

[Wanda Endust]

oocSorry 'bout the wait! My computer's been doing some funky things lately, and I had to write this over the course of a few days. It may or may not sound a bit choppy.

Her trained hands traced across the cover, but were far from delicate. She didn't caress, but gave a few good swipes to clear off the pages. A flicking motion, hinged on her wrist and filled with all the impatience her body could muster. The book had caught her eye and kindled a certain kind of ardor, compelling Wanda to read it. But there was so much dust -- dust everywhere. And it was stubbornly refusing to relax its grimy grip on the parchment.

Wanda sighed to herself but did not relent, giving the pages a good shake. She liked the quaint little shop. But she did not, however, like how dirty it could be. The paper flopped about limply in her hands for a couple ticks before she finally pried open to one of the middle pages. She turned, facing away from the shelf as she read.

Fall 17th, 498 AV
Djed was very active today. Would not stop pestering, even as I write this now. I can tell he wants to go outside, but it's just been raining so much for the past few days and he smells terrible when he's wet.
I'm beginning to regret agreeing to this situation. I had figured Timothy was only exaggerating all the issues Djed has, but it is clear to see he was not. He's been fairly aggressive since the beginning, but also seems to be prone to sudden mood swings and obsessive behavior. Possible hallucinations earlier today as well. His eyes follow the movement of things that simply aren't there, and he has tried to attack the wall more than once in the past bell.

What?

Her zeal faded into confusion. Even with as very, very little as Wanda had heard about djed, she had never once heard of it described as if it were... a person. Or something. Her brow furrowed, eyes skimming over the passage again. It simply made no sense to her. She'd been expecting something about magic, even if it was far-flung. But the words here struck her as more than a little odd.

It probably would've helped if she'd bothered to read the first few pages before skipping ahead in haste. She did so now, feeling the frown on her face grow deeper with each line. This was not a man's personal account of magic of any kind. It wasn't even about Djed.

Well, it was. But nowhere near the kind that Wanda had figured it would be. No, this was a fellow's account of a cat. A cat named Djed. You're kidding me, she complained, groaning inwardly as she drew an agitated hand down her face and snorted in a sort of irritated amusement. A cat.

If she had carried her quill and ink with her, she might have done any future readers a favor and clarified the title of the journal. As it were, all she could do was sigh and slam the volume shut. She did so, sending a puff of gray particles swirling about her face. Wanda gagged, huff a bit to clear herself of the clouded air. As she did so, a loud thud from nearby startled her from her perturbed reverie. The book loosened from her grip, nearly slipping from her own fingers as her body reacted, spinning to face the shelf from which she'd retrieved the book. The noise seemed to have come from the other side of the stacks, muffled only slightly by the wall of paper and other such things.

Wanda had been distantly aware of the presence of multiple other customers, though they had kept quiet enough that her notice of them faded while her attention had been drawn to the journal. Now there was a groan. And, seeing as how there seemed to be very little reason for her to remain where she was and pick over the disappointing selection of documents, Wanda opted to investigate. After all, thuds followed by groans typically indicated that someone might appreciate help.

She slid the short distance to the end of her aisle, neglecting to put the book back in place as she gripped it in a stubborn hand. Pausing before turning the corner, Wanda peered down the next line of shelves where she'd heard the noise. In the dim light, she could make out the figure of another girl -- perhaps a woman -- who seemed to be in just a bit of pain. A book laid defiantly on the floor beside her, as if it were trying to make a statement.

"Hope you're okay," Wanda ventured as she approached the rest of the way, sandals scuffing almost soundlessly against the floor. A lopsided grin set itself onto her features. Gesturing between the girl and the book, she joked, "You don't really look like the kind of girl who'd let herself get beaten up by some paper."

It was true though. Closer, there was something about the the other girl that Wanda found a tad intimidating, though she couldn't exactly place why. Perhaps it was because her heavy eyebrows made it seem to the masseuse as if she were scowling.

[Sigrun Dominic]

oocSorry as well for taking so long! I just recently returned to university!

Sigrun blinked a few times as she wobbled left and right to regain her balance. In front of her was a young woman standing just a few inches shorter than her, with wispy blonde hair that she quickly envied. Sigrun's shade was closer to harvested wheat, and she did not find it pretty.

She massaged the swell that burned at the top of her head. Her embarrassment quickly washed away with the woman's smile, however, which was just as pleasant as her soft features. Sigrun felt an even greater jealousy mixed within her relief. She found her features to be rather tough and unwelcoming, though she tried her best to appear otherwise.

"I'll give it a piece of my mind," she returned the other blonde's grin with one of her own. She crouched down and picked up the book from the ground, listening in on the creaking of the old wooden floorboards. She felt a sudden desire to pay attention to unnecessary detail.

"Thank you, by the way," she added casually, raising her eyebrows as she opened the book to its first page. The front was stained with a brown liquid that she assumed was tea or coffee. She avoided it, just in case.

"I was looking for a book about horses. I work at the stables, you see, and I managed to find this..."

Sheepishly, she held up the book by the ends of both covers, holding up the spine for the other woman to see. Under the dim, muddled lighting of the store, the title was barely visible. The book looked to be bound well, although its mistreated pages may tell a different story on the true quality of its contents. The young blonde could only hope that she had not made herself look stupid for a useless journal accounting barely anything informative about the horse breed.

"It's about Zavians," she said simply, in case she couldn't decipher the text from her distance.

She cleared her throat, only to have her lungs invaded by a strange, rough sensation that she could only blame on the shop's poor ventilation. The books might as well have been emitting toxins over the years due to their lack of perusal, or so the young blonde thought.

Perhaps what people preferred to look for around the store was the possibility of finding information on magics, though that sort of topic was lost to Sigrun. She feared and despised such an unknown, mystical subject, and just like any typical Syliran she was raised not to trust those who used their hands for the metaphysical. The mere thought made her blood run cold.

"What are you here for?" she inquired, closing the book partly to show her genuine interest.

The lady stuck out like a sore thumb inside the store, looking so well-dressed and cleaned up among the dirt and rubble. She didn't seem like the type to be searching for books to be reading. If anything, she had a specific purpose. Sigrun eyed her sandals and quickly wondered what the woman's profession was. With the boots covering her own two feet it was clear that Sigrun participated in a much rougher profession, and she had already made that clear earlier when she had mentioned the stables.

Again she felt herself envying the woman's daintiness and the effortlessness she seemed to convey along with it. She had never before bothered to take notice of any acquaintance or stranger's manner of clothing until today, and it hadn't struck her before how much she desired to look and dress more in the manner that the woman before her was dressed in. Serena could pull off the boots and the breeches with her billowing brown curls, but Sigrun could no longer capture the beauty in such an attire.

She steeled herself, and immediately felt silly. Here she was, in a stuffy, dimly-lit shop filled with odds and ends, experiencing a crisis within herself because of the way a stranger in front of her looked and dressed. It didn't help, however, that she had previously been spending most of her days alone and her most recent encounters with other people were only with Serena and Ulliver over at the stables, as well as the occasional chat with Atta. This was huge a breath of fresh air, the kind that felt as if one had escaped out of a dewy, woodland smell of a forest and into the warmth and earthiness of a piece of farmland.