Sigrún Kaase
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned
Twang!
Standing before one of her valued customers, a hunter that had returned to her time and time again to refit his bow properly. Sigrún had just released the bow string and began to pull it back again, her two primary fingers covered by a cloth guard and fastened around her wrist as she had. Just to release it again with the near similar sound of the string reaching the ears and vanished a second later just as she lowered the bow. Facing her trusty customer and handing over the ornate bow that belonged to him; a relic passed down from his father before him. As Hans had gone and described to her the very first time he came to have the bow refitted and cared for. Allowing the man to look over his own property, as a businesswoman, she understood that her main source of income needed to have a hook to draw in a good deal of income. Her guarantee had been a fairly straightforward one. If her customer wasn't satisfied with the refitting and caring for the frame of the bow itself. The price of the second attempted was to be halved. While it set a level for success that she strove to reach each time a customer came to her. Fortunately, Sigrún's customers often came away with satisfaction and their coin pouch a little lighter.
"Thank you for your coin, Hans."
Sigrún brought up, as she counted over the payment and tucked it away in a pouch hanging from her belt. Her accent aside, which proved she was hardly from anywhere near the little village of Rosewood, much like some of the others that lived here in the settlement. Sigrún moved to gather up her tools and other belongings, even as Hans form continued to fade away from her line of sight. He had came and paid her well after she had fixed his family heirloom; the man was no longer an interest of hers at this point. Unless, he had came back with more coins and more work to be done to whatever he had brought with him the next time. But, as she finished packing and tucked her tools of the trade into a sack she slung over one shoulder. Leaving behind what had consisted of a temporary workplace for the day. Sigrún hadn't owned a shop, nor did she even need the extra troubles that often came with such a thing. Unlike a smith or a leatherworker, she hadn't the need for a forge for smelting metal or a loom for tanning hides and such. Besides, the woman preferred to work under the open sky. Unless it was raining, only then did she work under the roof of her own home. Something that she had fought hard for and acquired after the man in her life had succumbed to whatever was drifting around the village.
"Calder!"
Sigrún had called out only after a brief walk from where she had set up shop. Calling out her son's name and found him bounding up a moment later, his hands and face stained with the not so odd color of dirt. "I'll never understand why you children like to wrestle around in, and with, mud for any reason." She huffed as she made an attempt to clean her son's hands and face with a cloth she had pulled from her back pocket. All the while as Calder fussed and went about trying to get his mother to stop all that she had been doing. Finally, Sigrún had stopped her efforts and tucked the cloth back into her pocket, satisfied with the streaks of mud no longer covering her son's face. She did however comfortably place her arm on his shoulder temporarily and began to walk in the direction of the markets. Just to feel him pull away a moment later, earning a smirk from her, at this sign of youthful rebellion. Though, she knew well enough it was embarrassing to her nine year old son.
"Let's go get something to eat. Clearly, we've both earned the need to do so." Sigrún spoke to her son, giving his shoulder a hearty pat and continued on her way with him keeping pace right beside her. Obviously the mention of food was enough to keep Calder pressing ahead and forgo being embarrassed by his own mother.
200
50
100
Ioslation
