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Rising Winds and Shifting Sands

It occurred to me, while reading your latest post, that I should have positioned Miria to be leaving the town, to be talking to a gatekeeper or a caravan leader from the get-go. *headdesk* Apologies for my oversight! But you made up for it well :)

Rising Winds and Shifting Sands

As Miria fiddled with her wares and waited for the jinni to respond, she took a discrete glance around the market square. There was no one near the jinni, and no one nearby gave the impression that they were watching his movements. How strange it was for a jinni to be shopping for tapestries unsupervised! Wouldn't the owner need to be present to select just the right look? Couldn't the jinni make any of this himself or rely on the network of other jinn to make something for him? It didn't make sense. That was when he mentioned mourning. Miria looked up at him then, feeling as though the air around her had suddenly dropped ten degrees. A memory flashed across her mind, of her family slaughtered. She remembered blood splattered everywhere -- on the walls, the furniture, the unfinished tapestries, the faces of her mother and father frozen in silent horror. He had been there, crouched next to her father, stroking his hair, taken by sobbing. Burglars had come, he had said, and he tried to stop them, but too late... Miria had cried with her jinni that day, the jinni she suddenly inherited, and believed his story for years. She had been young, inexperienced in the world, so her jinni had also become her crutch.... Miria's gaze hardened when this older jinni declined her gestures and looked steadily at her. Why was he here if not to buy one of her tapestries? This was all the more suspicious to her. "Is it your master you mourn for?" she snapped, and without giving him a chance to answer, she pressed on. "Have you a new master? Where is your master now? Perhaps you have--" She caught herself just in time, literally biting her tongue until she could feel the metallic sweetness of blood in her mouth to keep herself from finishing her inquiry. She had almost accused this jinni of murder, and for what? For all she knew, he could be mourning the death of a relative or friend. This, however, didn't explain why he needed to buy one of her tapestries. Or perhaps his master was in mourning, which meant he must be by default. She was allowing her own circumstances to get the best of her again. Miria gave the jinni an apologetic smile and parted her lips to apologize, but movement over the jinni's shoulder caught her eye and stayed her speech. On the other side of the square, two guards were drifting about, stopping at each stall, observing the wares with disinterest, craning their necks as though looking for something specific... or someone. With them was a middle-aged woman, one of Fiira's neighbors. She was the nosy sort that liked to occupy her time with the affairs of others. She had been on holiday for several days, but she had come back early. Of course, Miria didn't know the woman at all to know these details, but she did note that the woman looked distraught, flinging comments to the guards, wringing the corners of her shawl with both hands, glancing about nervously. They weren't close enough to hear or to make out details of their faces, but Miria had been a part of this lifestyle long enough to know that something was amiss. It could be a number of things.

Vanish Into Light

What kind of a rock have I been living under? Turns out he's a grammy award winning rapper o.0 There was a song a few years ago, "Same Love," that was all over the radio -- I didn't know this was the dude that sang it, haha. Well, I learned something today :3

Vanish Into Light

I'm possibly putting my foot in my mouth and making quite a dumb statement, but I'm curious: Who's the man at the bottom of all your posts? I'm assuming he's a celebrity of some sort, a singer perhaps? *ducks under a rock from the embarrassment of not knowing*

Vanish Into Light

It was strange to have a normal conversation with someone. Jeron stared, listening intently, taking it all in with a slight, eager nod of his head at all the right moments. Though he didn't say much himself, he liked feeling included in something docile and ordinary. "I've... never met my father," Jeron said quietly, "nor do I want to. Mother liked to remind me often of the wrong he did by her. I know nothing of him except for a name." He left the conversation at that. His mother never talked about his Drow father unless she was drunk, then he was the only thing on her mind. They hadn't been lovers, hadn't been friends, hadn't even known each other; it was a wonder Jeron's mother had been allowed to live at all. Jeron remembered being fascinated by Maura's stories of her parents who got along with each other far better. Jeron turned his attention to Pan just as Chamera did, wondering if the human would survive the night. He was an herbalist but not a physician. Idly, he thought of what he could mix or grind together to ease a fever if he had one or to help him sleep or to wake him up... "What happened to him anyway?" he asked. "Something to do with his magic?" He peered through the darkness at the man, feeling himself scowl anew at just the sight of him. Jeron had not gotten a good impression from the man while he was conscious and suspected that he should stay on his guard in case Pan woke up. Jeron felt perfectly content to leave him as he was and hoped he stayed that way for a while.

Vanish Into Light

Jeron sighed. The entire time Chamera had been scrutinizing him, he wished he could crawl into a hole, or climb up a tree, or go somewhere so as to not be stared at. Like with most social gestures, staring typically did not mean anything positive to Jeron, so he felt uneasy with her eyes on him. He tugged at his hood with his free hand, wishing he had a means to conceal his face completely. He thought himself ugly and knew others viewed him a monster. In fact, the only one who had never minded his looks was Maura.... Jeron moved cautiously by Chamera's side, dropping to a crouch in front of her. He took her arm, holding it delicately by the wrist. What was he doing anyway? Since when did he help another in this way? His gaze flickered up to her face for a moment, panic in his brown eyes, and he almost let her go, almost retreated back to his original spot by the fire. He gulped, inwardly clinging to his nerve, and forced himself to look back down at Chamera's arm. If he couldn't get through this simple task, how was he ever going to learn magic from her? He needed to focus. He frowned, realizing that Chamera's wound wasn't really that deep at all, and then scowled upon knowing that he had put himself unnecessarily in this dreadfully awkward situation. He was already in this nonsense of being nice to someone; he might as well follow through. "This will sting," he muttered dryly. "It is a disinfectant, not a healant, so you should wash it off in a day, especially since I didn't use water to grind this down." Unceremoniously, he pressed the goop of chewed plant on Chamera's arm and began to smear it across the wound with his gloved fingers. He tried his best to work quickly, not wanting to hold her arm any longer than necessary. He did not seem to notice how his hands trembled, though slightly, while helping her. Chamera had remarked on not meeting many other half elves. Jeron wanted to stare, to observe the physical evidence of her claim himself, but he didn't want to be caught staring. He had always observed others from a distance, safely concealed, and he wished he could do so now. Instead, he took in snatches of detail from an occasionally flickering gaze. She dressed human, looked human... Ah, but the ears always gave it away. He wondered what happened with her left ear, but pretended not to notice. And the slight slant of the eyes... Jeron was careful not to make direct eye contact, though he was fascinated by the color of her eyes. "I've... never met many other half elves either," he admitted when he dropped his gaze a last time, noting other scars on her skin. This sparked his curiosity; was she also a pariah to others? He wanted to ask, surprising himself with how excited he was at the notion of possibly meeting a kindred spirit of sorts, but he kept that excitement subdued under a persisting scowl, killing the thought before it could form into audible questions. Of course she wasn't. "You're not half drow," he blurted out, and inwardly scolded himself for making such a thoughtless, obvious statement. Jeron let go of Chamera's arm, returning briskly to his spot by the fire. He didn't bother asking if she had other wounds that needed tending to, feeling relieved just to gain this few feet of space between them. "What I meant to say is that... well, it's just... the circumstances with your parents... they must have been..." He released a heavy sigh, not sure how to politely ask what she was half of. He hated social etiquette. He grabbed his bag, rummaging through the foliage he had gathered, determined to find a way to distract himself from his foolishness.

Rising Winds and Shifting Sands

Haha! Yes, we're evil that way :3 Terrible, horrible distraction! My post was written ridiculously late (or ridiculously early, depending on who you talk to) because I had to get nasty homework done first. Ugh. Looking forward to your reply :D

Rising Winds and Shifting Sands

*whew!* That's a relief. She was actually pretty fun to write, once I got started :) My female characters can be very hit-and-miss, so I'm glad I started strong with Miria.

Vanish Into Light

Nice! And that's a good idea, keeping an item list. I'll have a CS and new post soon (a day or two; I'm making good time with my homework).

Rising Winds and Shifting Sands

(Picture coming soon) Name: Miria Sedina Age: 35 Species: Human Appearance: Mocha-colored skin, long dark hair down to mid-back, dark brown eyes, slender frame. She holds a modest but classy sense of style. Occupation: Traveling merchant.