Season of Winter, Day 71, 501 AV
Location: Velarian's Home & Orchid Market
Silence had become the most prominent quality of the room. Dominant it lingered in the air, near tangible in its density. Even the rare sound of paper rustling and the faint voices drifting over from other parts of the residence were more inclined to emphasize the calm than to break it. A quiet cough would ring out loud and clear in such peace, but it was a female voice which pierced the brooding stillness in the end.
"You should go out."
At his desk Velarian turned. He had been looking through sheets and drawings sprawled out over the desk, notes written in his father's meticulous handwriting, now his eyes wandered to the old Symenestra woman half leaning against the door frame. Nassana was two years older than his father, who was rather old himself. She had never married, instead teaching the children of her family the art of weaving. In his youth he had come to fear her sharp tongue, yet since the birth of his son the woman seemed to have grown soft.
Now she watched him with an expression the young man was not quite able to interpret. "Davariel sleeps. Your sister has an eye on him," she informed him with the same stoic face she would have told him he made a mistake weaving the loom as a child. His aunt was all and foremost a practical individual.
Her nephew breathed out, almost irritated. "Alone?" Suddenly his attention seemed to shift entirely from the parchment piling before him towards the Symenestra woman.
Nassana made a dismissive gesture. "Watching a sleeping baby is no hard task," she enlightened the young man almost absently as she continued into the room. Her silken robe played around her ankles – despite her age she had lost little of the grace she once possessed. "Talking about leaving the house. You have stayed here for the better part of the season and I thought you might want to go to the market for me. Paid a basket for the next three days and I need someone to have an eye on it."
Ruby eyes wandered back to the desk. "I will go tomorrow." Slender fingers reach out for a sheet of parchment. "Or the day after," he decided after a moment of consideration.
"Or not at all?," the woman asked with a risen eyebrow. "You will go. Today."
Velarian found Orchard Market in a state of brisk activity. It was still early in the morning and most every basket had been rented by a Symenestra willing to sell this or that, goods self crafted or items bought from the rare merchants visiting the city. Some hunters' relatives advertised the meat of deers and hares and fowl caught above and a lone member of the Aconite made sure every used stall was paid for.
In the next two hours the place would grow more quiet, when the vendors returned to their daily business, but for now the area was bustling with men and women acquiring whatever they needed for living.
Looking around Velarian stepped of the red silk rope marking Kalinor's main street – the only way foreigners and half breeds would be comfortably able to travel around the city – onto the market. Good three dozen stalls were dangling from the ceiling, their colors indicating the goods they held. The young animator set out for a green one, the box his aunt would rent every time she had fabric or clothing to sell.
It did not take him long to set the stall up, to place the silk and linen rolls he had brought with him in the baskets, to lay out some of the dresses Nassana had sewn. Finally he also added a few pieces he had animated, two scarfs coiling like lazy snake when worn, a dress animated to sway around its wearers feet.
Glancing over the goods a last time, Velarian turned to his first customers.
Location: Velarian's Home & Orchid Market
Silence had become the most prominent quality of the room. Dominant it lingered in the air, near tangible in its density. Even the rare sound of paper rustling and the faint voices drifting over from other parts of the residence were more inclined to emphasize the calm than to break it. A quiet cough would ring out loud and clear in such peace, but it was a female voice which pierced the brooding stillness in the end.
"You should go out."
At his desk Velarian turned. He had been looking through sheets and drawings sprawled out over the desk, notes written in his father's meticulous handwriting, now his eyes wandered to the old Symenestra woman half leaning against the door frame. Nassana was two years older than his father, who was rather old himself. She had never married, instead teaching the children of her family the art of weaving. In his youth he had come to fear her sharp tongue, yet since the birth of his son the woman seemed to have grown soft.
Now she watched him with an expression the young man was not quite able to interpret. "Davariel sleeps. Your sister has an eye on him," she informed him with the same stoic face she would have told him he made a mistake weaving the loom as a child. His aunt was all and foremost a practical individual.
Her nephew breathed out, almost irritated. "Alone?" Suddenly his attention seemed to shift entirely from the parchment piling before him towards the Symenestra woman.
Nassana made a dismissive gesture. "Watching a sleeping baby is no hard task," she enlightened the young man almost absently as she continued into the room. Her silken robe played around her ankles – despite her age she had lost little of the grace she once possessed. "Talking about leaving the house. You have stayed here for the better part of the season and I thought you might want to go to the market for me. Paid a basket for the next three days and I need someone to have an eye on it."
Ruby eyes wandered back to the desk. "I will go tomorrow." Slender fingers reach out for a sheet of parchment. "Or the day after," he decided after a moment of consideration.
"Or not at all?," the woman asked with a risen eyebrow. "You will go. Today."
Velarian found Orchard Market in a state of brisk activity. It was still early in the morning and most every basket had been rented by a Symenestra willing to sell this or that, goods self crafted or items bought from the rare merchants visiting the city. Some hunters' relatives advertised the meat of deers and hares and fowl caught above and a lone member of the Aconite made sure every used stall was paid for.
In the next two hours the place would grow more quiet, when the vendors returned to their daily business, but for now the area was bustling with men and women acquiring whatever they needed for living.
Looking around Velarian stepped of the red silk rope marking Kalinor's main street – the only way foreigners and half breeds would be comfortably able to travel around the city – onto the market. Good three dozen stalls were dangling from the ceiling, their colors indicating the goods they held. The young animator set out for a green one, the box his aunt would rent every time she had fabric or clothing to sell.
It did not take him long to set the stall up, to place the silk and linen rolls he had brought with him in the baskets, to lay out some of the dresses Nassana had sewn. Finally he also added a few pieces he had animated, two scarfs coiling like lazy snake when worn, a dress animated to sway around its wearers feet.
Glancing over the goods a last time, Velarian turned to his first customers.