Open [Travelers' Way] Snares and Stew

[Aaron Greyfeather]

11th day of Spring, 514 18th Bell (early dusk) Aaron moves around his small apartment on Travelers way gathering his supplies so that he can work on making a few new snare lines. He grabs his rope from his traveling gear as well as his dagger and a few sticks, each about as long as his forearm, that he had gathered for firewood. He sets the stuff down by the door then turns and looks around the small room. "Now where did I put the wax?" Aaron asks himself. He snaps his finger, remembering, going over to the hearth, where a large pot is simmering over the fire, and grabs the butt end of an old bees wax candle he has had sitting up there for this purpose. He toss it into the pile by the door and turns back to the pot on the hearth. Aaron smiles to himself as he stirs the pot, the smell of the rabbit stew filling the room. His mother would be proud, for the first time he has managed to not burn the stew. He pulls the ladle up stirring the carrots and potatoes from the bottom of the pot nodding to himself that they look about done. He ladles some into his bowl and pushes the pot back over the low fire on the hearth to keep it warm. Humming a song to himself Aaron makes his way over to the door and kicks it open, pushing his bed roll in front of the door to prop it opens. He sits down in the open doorway and takes a bite of his stew, muttering around the very hot stew he has in his mouth,and sets the bowl down beside him to let it cool a touch. Pulling the coil of rope over to him he starts to stretch out a length about ten foot long, cutting it off from the rest of the coil. Aaron reaches down and takes other bite of his hot stew and starts to take the length of rope apart into its individual pieces as he watches the people pass by on the street.

[Hadyn Skellig]

"Why not?" Hadyn Skellig's brown eyes leveled with the courier's, eyebrows arched with skepticism. He stared at her for a moment, their close proximity making him a touch uncomfortable. After a tick he shook his head and tried to dart to the side to squeeze between the weaponsmith and the wall. The woman had him blocked in the narrow lane at Traveler's Row, a letter in her hand and a scowl on her face.

"I already told you. I'm not going to Ravok," he repeated sourly as he grunted his way past her. The brunette backtracked a few steps to keep their distance close, a hand reaching out to touch his shoulder and halt him.

"You said you were headin' that way last time I saw you."

"More than half a season ago! Priskil's light, woman! You aren't making me a good case to change my plans. I have parcels and letters to deliver in the south."

Hadyn let out a frustrated growl, rolling her eyes as the narrow man finally managed to weasel his way out of her grasp. He made haste down the enclosed vestibule, glancing over his shoulder to make sure she wasn't about to tackle him. In doing so the courier missed a young man seated in the doorway of his apartment. With a screech befitting a nine year old the thin messenger tangles his legs and scrabbles his arms to keep from falling. Hadyn, whose only response is to roll her eyes advances upon them. She hadn't seen the seated fellow either but the lanky man was already issuing half-sincere apologies as he tried to right himself and depart before the brunette was close enough to catch him.

"So sorry, must go, excuse me," he garbled as he took off at a fast walk, not bothering to inspect the damage he'd wrought or listen to reproach. The weaponsmith walked toward the mess he'd made with a pitying glance at the young man whose meal was so suddenly disturbed.

"Y'alright, mate?" she asked, stopping short of him. Tucking the letter into the pocket of the brown skirt she glanced down the darkening hallway, the messenger already disappearing around a corner. "A pox on him," she muttered more to herself than the young man as she returned her attention to him. "He's about a graceful as an ox in a glassblower's shop. Hope he didn't ruin your supper."

[Aaron Greyfeather]

"He's about a graceful as an ox in a glassblower's shop. Hope he didn't ruin your supper." The dark haired woman standing before him says. Aaron smiles up at her, his hands pausing in his work. "No, ma'am. Just makes me remember that I am not the only one with troubles." He finished pulling the ten foot length apart into its six small cords, winding each up into a small coil. Picking up his bowl once again and taking a few bites of the warm stew. "Names Aaron. You live around here?" he says a smile. Humming a soft tune as he eats a few more bites before setting the bowl down again and taking up one of the smaller cords in one hand and the chunk of wax in the other and begins to slide to the cord against the wax letting the friction melt the wax into the cord slicking it and binding the fibers tighter together. "You hungry?" He asks pausing his work to look at the dark hair woman, "There is fresh rabbit stew on the hearth, and I don't think I will eat it all. So you are welcome to join me."