Welcome to Gaia! ::

Lenila did not return to the orphanage the evening of her flight from it. Instead, after making it to her private space, dealing with her hair, and settling in, she curled up on one of the pieces of stowed furniture, and made her ‘bed’ there for the night, asleep in a moment with the belted dagger on the floor beside her. She woke to the sound of the city waking.

Immediately, of course, her stomach made itself known, growling from her midsection and complaining about its wants. Food, food, food, it whined, churning. She ignored it, as she was fairly accustomed to doing. It had only been a night, after all, with no dinner the evening prior. She’d had lunch the day before, and could certainly go without immediate sustenance. Other pressing biological needs, however, she took care of in the back gutters after crawling down from her room, and from there, the morning was her oyster. She adjusted the belt at her waist, plucking down at her messy shirt to better hide the dagger there, and then hooked her thumbs back at her hips as she stepped into the sun outside the alley.

She intended to explore. Seek a clean drink, and then food if she were fortunate. Maybe she could even spare an hour or two to sit outside the city schoolhouse, at least if they were learning anything interesting. Instead, her attention caught on what — or who — was camped out at the first floor stall before ‘her’ building. She’d never seen the boy before. Further confirmation, she supposed, that the space was let out to merchants in temporary time slots, ‘owned’ by a distant lessor somewhere. Currently, it was a clothing stall, with all manner of things nicer than she’d ever gotten to wear, and the boy keeping it—

Her grey eyes narrowed in a squint.

Fat. Like a noble, filled out in all ways so that you just knew looking at them that they ate happy every day, and never slept on an empty belly. She probably should have ignored him. He didn’t have anything she needed, and ignoring others was a good way to stay ignored herself. But he looked young. Not a great lot older than she. And if he weren’t too spoiled, well-fed younger boys and girls were more likely to share food than older, selfish folk.

Perhaps, too, he had a coin purse somewhere in that stall, and he didn’t look the type to guard very well. Maybe he wouldn’t even notice. She strutted up towards the stall.

“I’ve never seen your like in Pajore,” she greeted. “How old are you, oi? Have y’ come from far out?”

Len tipped her head — a fraction of an inch, curious, surprised — and then flashed a toothy grin, hoisting her weight and shoulders back as her grip pinched at her hips. “Did ‘e, then? Sure I’d see them,” she answered, tipping her angle again and moving around past the front of the stall to better eye the available ‘wares’ — and sneak a peek towards the main desk to see if any obvious snatchable coin was available.

“I’m from Ilidan, m’self,” she said. “Father runs a quick business o’ shoemakin’ and we ain’t here for long, or that’s the plan, leastways. Though, y’know, things never go quite so much as their planned, and I don’ have a pile o’ coin on me, but there’s no harm in lookin’. They do look a fine make. I’m Lennart, by the by, but you c’n call me Len.”

She held out a hand as she said it. Perhaps not the cleanest hand ever to be extended, but it was what men did, wasn’t it?

Len grinned. “I am,” she said. “Father says I’ll natter every man, woman, an’ child’s ear off if he makes me stay in one spot, so I gets t’ walk the full of the city, so long as I don’t get lost. You must be right bored, stuck here all the while. How long do they leave ya for? I’d up and go explore…”

On spying a particularly intricate show of embroidery and cut design, Len’s lips made a brief ‘o’ of immediate curiosity before she schooled the look back to something more passively interested. Still, she reached, thumbing over it.

“Do ya do anything else but watch? Didn’t look like you were downright interested in sittin’ alone, but I could judge wrong. Can y’ make any yourself?”

Len’s gaze flicked to the older boy immediately at the mention of a blade, her attention instinctively draw back to the small dagger concealed at her hip. It was her only defense, really. But she didn’t know the first thing about using it. Not in any ‘proper’ way. It felt good to have it there, sure, but she was aware that in the end there was far more to it than that.

“Can you wield a sword, then?” she asked. “I’ve never learned much but the wee basics. I’ve been told me mum was good, though, in her day. But my pa, see, couldn’t let a rat bleed a drop without feelin’ sorry for it. But if you were any good…I’ve always thought it an excitin’ thing to learn. And useful, see, when we’ve got invaders on our shores. I’ve told ‘im, my pa, that is, that it’s gettin’ dangerous out there, I have. But he hasn’t listened much yet.”

Len glanced to the glasses. A good number of persons had them, but she knew she couldn’t have afforded them even if something was wrong with her eyes. She was fairly sure there wasn’t anything, though, fates be good. She supposed she couldn’t be sure. Nothing crippling, in any case. Regardless, it was easy to grin.

“That’s a nice blessin’, havin’ ‘em when you needed,” she said. “My pa, he said Lurin gave me a gift with my eyes. Real sharp like, and that I’ve always taken ‘em for granted while he fumbles about ‘like a blind dog’, he says, but he ain’t so bad as he makes it out to be. Might be a good reason he didn’t take up a blade though. I’m sure it’ll be good you have yours. Hard t’ hit a thing if you can’t see it. But did you know, the blacksmith there? Her name is Marsa. Don’t know so many folk here yet, but I spoke to her just the afternoon before last. If you were real interested, you should speak up, next your folks give you a break for wanderin’.”

“It is better, I think,” Len said, with jokingly feigned seriousness. “I don’t imagine you’d get many willin’ tutors after lopping off one head. You might never find another to school ya again.” Her attention skimmed fleetingly over a small pile of unattended coin on the desk — not enough to be the day’s profits, but perhaps the result of one sale, not yet put away. More than enough to hold her over for a period on that alone, though. She kept her attention off of it, after spotting it, to wait for a more apt opportunity.

Instead, she wrinkled her nose briefly, shaking her head. “Shoes aren’t so much my thing, they aren’t,” she said. “While I like ‘em well and good enough on my feet, I don’t so much wanna spend all my life shapin’ ‘em, you know? One day, I’d like t’ see it all, so I figure I best learn to be at least decent with somethin’ I can defend myself with. In between now and then, though…never hurts to know a thing or two about somethin’ useful.”

She spared a glance to the blacksmith, and then back again to Jalase, teeth flashing.

“She’s cute too, though, ain’t she?”

Len blinked. Though she’d thrown the phrase out there, it had been for Jalase’s ‘benefit’ so to speak, since she far from considered herself any active judge of whether a girl ‘appealed’ or not. It just seemed to her that all passably young and attractive female things were targets for the male eye and interest, particularly those of boys in the age range that Jalase fell into.

His attention shifted, moving to the customer.

Len felt her pulse pick up, thrumming softly and then harder as the customer was brought more amidst the things for sale, providing a brief barrier between his line of sight and her. She sucked a quick breath, and reached, fingers skipping out to catch the pile of loose coins at the front desk and immediately after tuck them into her pocket. After, she experienced a brief, immobilizing moment of fear and indecision—would it be best to leave now, immediately, this instant, before he had even the faintest chance to suspect her? What if he noticed? What if he accused her on the spot? This might be her only chance to duck out.

But also, if she left so suddenly without a word, perhaps that would only make him suspicious and then notice when he hadn’t before, and quicken his pursuit of her—

In the fraction of a second that it took her to conclude bolting immediately was the best option, the boy and his customer came back into full view of her, and she changed her mind, leaning her weight instead casually against one of the other tables and ‘eyeing’ the blacksmith with idle curiosity, as though daydreaming herself.