Date: Fourth of Fall
The streets were nearly dark as she trudged past strangers and buildings- if they could be called that. The structures looked as if they had been thrown together with only the hopes of them staying together by whatever people could find to bind the makeshift shelters together. A few of the structures seemed as if they would blow over with the next breeze; a clay or mud house would stand a better chance. The chaktawe had seen these improvised forts throughout the city since the day before- the day she had arrived in this cold place. The coldness wasn't only in the temperature, but could also be felt through the looks and behaviour of those around her. The smallest frown or hint of distrust gave her flashes of familiarity, derived mostly from the city that she had been in previously; Nyka. It had been a city of strange customs, where people through food over bridges and where strange things stalked the night. However, she found that this place, Birth of the Sun... no that wasn't it... Sunberth? That was it- Sunberth- also had elements that reminded her of her homeland back in the sands. Flashes of hands slipping into pockets, sly smiles, and guarded expressions recalled ghostly impressions of Ahnatep... although she felt as if this were an entirely new sandstorm altogether.
For the moment though, she was in need of something to quite the grumblings of her stomach. The chaktawe had neglected food for just over a day, despite having received directions to a tavern that was mostly frequented by shiphands, which for the moment, sounded like her best bet for a hot meal. In attempt to keep a low profile, she ducked her head down, doing her best to match her stride to that of those around her, and avoided making physical contact with anyone. Her bags, slung over her back, had the look of wear and tear, and were not likely to entice the eye of anyone with an overly curious hand. With luck, the tavern was relatively close and rather easy to spot, being right by the pier and three levels tall. As she approached the Drunken Fish, the door swung open to spew a few apparently tipsy forms, all chanting something at the top of their lungs as the headed towards the docked vessels. She caught the worn wood before it closed once more, and slipped inside.
Her first impression was that those present were rather lively in comparison to many of the people she had seen in the city, although that could have just been from the perspective of an outsider. What surprised her though, was the variety of languages and ethnicities throughout the room. The most striking were the ones of brightly coloured skin and those who were slightly less humanoid. As she observed the crowd, it occurred to her that someone with black eyes and webbed feet couldn't possibly be that noticeable amongst such eye-catching peoples, and lifted her head- though habit kept her slightly hunched over. It was only by chance that she caught sight of a few empty seats near the centre of the right wall, and wove her way over; all the while treading lightly to avoid making much noise.
Taking a place with her back to the wall, she glanced around curiously, noting that there seemed to be people tending to the customers, who flitted around the tables like wary birds. Just as she was about to lift her hand to signal to one of them, a large form bumped into her nearly tipping her from her seat. It was only by having braced an arm against the wall that she was able to catch herself, and proceeded to turn her pitch black glare upon the clumsy fool, who appeared to have not noticed his blunder. Instead, her eyes caught sight of the pouch that hung only just level with her sensitive fingertips. The hik was in an animated discussion with someone before him, and from the few words she was able to catch, seemed to be discussing something about ale. From his mannerisms and accent, which differed from the locals she had seen, it seemed that like her, he was to new to the city.
From his richly coloured clothing, Shikoba deduced that he was likely a relatively prosperous merchant or something of the like, and was fool enough to simply leave his pouch out for anyone with curious fingers to slip into. It would be so easy to simply pluck a shiny piece of metal or two while the man was distracted, since the fool was obviously oblivious enough not to notice that he had nearly knock someone over. To make matters better or in this case, perhaps worse -not that she would think this way- Rinathwa was conveniently missing from the scene, and would not be able to talk her out of doing just that. 'One so seemingly rich would not miss a coin or two,' she thought rebelliously, her fingertips brushing across the opening of the pouch.
She quickly jerked her hand back as she felt something prick her fingers, the unexpected movement unfortunately alerting the plump man of her intent.
He turned quickly, for such a big man, his eyes wide as he reached towards her, while an stoney expression had begun to form on his reddening face. Before he could reach her though, she was already on her feet, and back peddling, this time accidentally colliding into a tall, muscular form behind her.
Sliding sideways, she glanced between the red-faced merchant and his companion at her left to the more imposing figure to her right, she cringed internally, and muttered one of the words in her limited vocabulary of Common.
“Petch.”
Word Count960
.
The streets were nearly dark as she trudged past strangers and buildings- if they could be called that. The structures looked as if they had been thrown together with only the hopes of them staying together by whatever people could find to bind the makeshift shelters together. A few of the structures seemed as if they would blow over with the next breeze; a clay or mud house would stand a better chance. The chaktawe had seen these improvised forts throughout the city since the day before- the day she had arrived in this cold place. The coldness wasn't only in the temperature, but could also be felt through the looks and behaviour of those around her. The smallest frown or hint of distrust gave her flashes of familiarity, derived mostly from the city that she had been in previously; Nyka. It had been a city of strange customs, where people through food over bridges and where strange things stalked the night. However, she found that this place, Birth of the Sun... no that wasn't it... Sunberth? That was it- Sunberth- also had elements that reminded her of her homeland back in the sands. Flashes of hands slipping into pockets, sly smiles, and guarded expressions recalled ghostly impressions of Ahnatep... although she felt as if this were an entirely new sandstorm altogether.
For the moment though, she was in need of something to quite the grumblings of her stomach. The chaktawe had neglected food for just over a day, despite having received directions to a tavern that was mostly frequented by shiphands, which for the moment, sounded like her best bet for a hot meal. In attempt to keep a low profile, she ducked her head down, doing her best to match her stride to that of those around her, and avoided making physical contact with anyone. Her bags, slung over her back, had the look of wear and tear, and were not likely to entice the eye of anyone with an overly curious hand. With luck, the tavern was relatively close and rather easy to spot, being right by the pier and three levels tall. As she approached the Drunken Fish, the door swung open to spew a few apparently tipsy forms, all chanting something at the top of their lungs as the headed towards the docked vessels. She caught the worn wood before it closed once more, and slipped inside.
Her first impression was that those present were rather lively in comparison to many of the people she had seen in the city, although that could have just been from the perspective of an outsider. What surprised her though, was the variety of languages and ethnicities throughout the room. The most striking were the ones of brightly coloured skin and those who were slightly less humanoid. As she observed the crowd, it occurred to her that someone with black eyes and webbed feet couldn't possibly be that noticeable amongst such eye-catching peoples, and lifted her head- though habit kept her slightly hunched over. It was only by chance that she caught sight of a few empty seats near the centre of the right wall, and wove her way over; all the while treading lightly to avoid making much noise.
Taking a place with her back to the wall, she glanced around curiously, noting that there seemed to be people tending to the customers, who flitted around the tables like wary birds. Just as she was about to lift her hand to signal to one of them, a large form bumped into her nearly tipping her from her seat. It was only by having braced an arm against the wall that she was able to catch herself, and proceeded to turn her pitch black glare upon the clumsy fool, who appeared to have not noticed his blunder. Instead, her eyes caught sight of the pouch that hung only just level with her sensitive fingertips. The hik was in an animated discussion with someone before him, and from the few words she was able to catch, seemed to be discussing something about ale. From his mannerisms and accent, which differed from the locals she had seen, it seemed that like her, he was to new to the city.
From his richly coloured clothing, Shikoba deduced that he was likely a relatively prosperous merchant or something of the like, and was fool enough to simply leave his pouch out for anyone with curious fingers to slip into. It would be so easy to simply pluck a shiny piece of metal or two while the man was distracted, since the fool was obviously oblivious enough not to notice that he had nearly knock someone over. To make matters better or in this case, perhaps worse -not that she would think this way- Rinathwa was conveniently missing from the scene, and would not be able to talk her out of doing just that. 'One so seemingly rich would not miss a coin or two,' she thought rebelliously, her fingertips brushing across the opening of the pouch.
She quickly jerked her hand back as she felt something prick her fingers, the unexpected movement unfortunately alerting the plump man of her intent.
He turned quickly, for such a big man, his eyes wide as he reached towards her, while an stoney expression had begun to form on his reddening face. Before he could reach her though, she was already on her feet, and back peddling, this time accidentally colliding into a tall, muscular form behind her.
Sliding sideways, she glanced between the red-faced merchant and his companion at her left to the more imposing figure to her right, she cringed internally, and muttered one of the words in her limited vocabulary of Common.
“Petch.”
Word Count960
.
