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 Posted: Sun Nov 25, 2012 5:14 pm
Two Birds on a Wire
WHO: Isikoro and Eiry (Storei) and Duncan (Zanaroo)
WHEN: Mid-Autumn, around October.
WHERE: The Wednesday Market on 7th Street, Durem.
WEATHER: Very windy, very chilly.
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Posted: Sun Nov 25, 2012 5:15 pm
The Wednesday Night market in Durem circulated between seasons yearly. A few people were wary of the idea, as it was originally intended only for the summertime, but the different flavors it provided worked tremendously well. The only thing that didn't seem to accommodate, really, was the weather.
Humans and humanoids of various sizes and shapes were bundled up to fend off against autumn cold. The thick vellum of marketplace stands rippled loudly with the wind, and a few stand owners were struggling to keep their wares properly on the table. They'd started in the late morning and would end a little after dusk, when the dark would make it hard for customers to see any wares.
It was the afternoon now, though, and there was still a great many hours to go. Duncan sat at his table on the fresh goods side of the Wednesday Night market, where they were fortunate enough to be the closest to the foods section. Musicians were near to him singing calming songs, which he appreciated greatly, as he was reading a copy of The Hobbit, which was worn from overuse, its delicate pages fluttering nervously away from the binding.
Duncan had only read the book twice in his life. Once was when Cerise had recommended it to him before they married, and once was to Anna when she was a child. Anna continued to read the book a great many times, as if it were yearly tradition, while he stumbled over what books to give to her throughout her youth. Despite being a professor, he did not read a great many children's books.
He read it a third time now in worry of his Raevan, as he didn't quite know what to read a newborn anymore. He fancied the story, but the Bilbo and company had just been thrown into the depths of black Mirkwood. He knew of the outcome, but worried about it being too dark.
Perhaps the Raevan would be able to handle such things? He recalled Anastacia. Yes, perhaps. Then he recalled Cruz-- perhaps a bit too dark. He tried to imagine Mordekai reading it to the Raevan, and tried very hard not to discard the novel completely.
It was then that he was interrupted by a slurry of customers; more specifically, a few very bored looking drow. He helped them where he could, and they chose their wares, and Duncan's vision drifted slightly towards the slightly more enthusiastic crowd behind them.
There and then, he noticed the signature wisp of ribbon lit by rune-light. He tilted his head a bit more to the side, frowning-- a Raevan?
He didn't have much time to study them, though, as people were prodding him with gold. He took it, thanked them, and saw them on their way; he dreaded the fact that there were even more customers behind them. A gruff mother accompanied by a swarm of children, as it were. Duncan recalled the dwarves.
He smiled warmly at that, despite the distraction up ahead.
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Posted: Mon Jan 07, 2013 12:10 pm
The raevan in question, the very same that had been caught in the line of Duncan's sight, was known to many as Eiry. He was wearing a simple coat, with a cravat carefully tucked into the high vest that was wrapped snuggly around his waist and torso. It was much more than other raevans could boast of, that was for sure, for he was a sigel, and was just two legs shy of a full body. With the flap of his wings, and the upwards push of his reading glasses, which he was beginning to wear more and more often, he scoured through the crowd at the farmers market, before his apple red eyes caught sight of the book in the old man's hands. His face brightened immediately and he swam through the crowd to peer closer at the book’s title. It was a few moments after he had been staring and the title of the book that he noticed that there was someone holding it. Pulled up by the tug of his smile, he nodded his head at the man, straightening up with the languid flap of his fiery wings, which burned behind his shoulders as if he himself were on fire.
"A fantastic title," he said, referring to the book, "It's one of my favorites, I must say, it's absolutely wonderful. While generally, I succumb to the wiles of poets such as Shakespeare and Byron, ye olde artists of an older more distant world, I do find that there are titles from contemporary times that arrest my attention, such as this, and I am giddy to see it held so tenderly in the hands of another!" Eiry grinned at the man and then let his eyes drift over to the wares on his table, his brows raising with interest. He could hardly get out another word, however, before there came a call from behind him.
"Eiry! Where did you go? Eiry, you can't just float off with the wind, I can't ******** keep up with you in this crowd..." came another voice. A young man, with still the face of a boy, came hobbling up to the table. His face was twisted with frustration, his freckles skewed, as he awkwardly made his way through the crowd with his forearm crutches attached to his arms. His legs were incredibly thin, something that was visible despite the baggy jeans he wore. He moved up behind Eiry, giving the apologetic raevan a glare, until he turned to the man. "Sorry about that," he said, "He forgets his manners sometimes despite his mannerisms."
Eiry turned to the man and bowed his head, "My apologies, I meant to say, Good day whereupon I greeted you! Look, Isi, he has a copy of The Hobbit!"
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