"If I find the bastard who took me off one, I swear he'll rot in the sewers. Three of my best pears from the growers on Galleon". The man's excessive facial hair threw Coria off track. A tawdry kept beard mashed between middle aged dirty brown and elderly stress-induced gray, scraggly as if shaved from a brown cow's wool and stuck onto his face. It shuffled about with the man's indignation, but now Coria could only focus on cows. Portly, fluffy creatures that were birthed in a variety of hues. Some were spotted and white, others pure black and tanned with sunlight. Coria's personal favourite cows were those who were older and veteran. Such fluffy wool and heavy "Baaaaa---aaaaaa-aaaa" noise. Although only explored in literature, cows were so intriguing. Or were those goats..? Primary definition pending. Coria digressed as their thoughts came back into focus. The mission at hand far superseded a man's beard no matter how odd it truly was. After returning focus to the merchant man, Coria found him staring at them as if.. A hamster had just snarled at him. A little pipe from Coria's lips upon realization. The "Baaaaa---aaaaaa-aaaa" had been said out loud. A cold sweat broke out on Coria's body. It was such a misunderstanding.
"Cows" Coria stated, as if that explained everything. The man furrowed his brow. "Lad--"
"Or goats".
"Lad, erm. Are you right in the head?". Coria's hands shot up to the metal mask on their face and did a swift, thorough feel check, including the dark fabric to check for tears. "Yes" Coria responded dutifully. Coria rummaged through the loose, deep threaded pockets attached to the leggings that gripped Coria's legs beneath the plates. From the left pocket, Coria pulled a large, thick and visibly ripe pear. "Excuse me, my sir. How do I eat this? I am under the assumption it is edible after perusing your wears-- and pears".
Without missing a beat, the merchant man swiped at the pear with wide eyes. Coria pulled away. Was this some sort of game? "Cocky little guttershite, I'll snap your neck". Guttershite? Definition pending. His voice kept low and steady. At the lack of visible anger or explanation, Coria assumed this was a game indeed. With a turn on the heel, Coria turned their back to the man. "You will wear the face of despair, fool!" in perfect reciting of their favourite scripture from the book building. Coria promptly threw their body into a sprint, slender body weaving through a small mess of merchant-goers. The pear beard merchant man was left inquisitive.
--
The slums outside of the capital Xastristian city were wide enough to lose yourself in easily, stretched in a half-circle around the main city walls of Oak.. Owl.. Owlwood? Coria did not remember hearing a perfect definition. A variety of unfinished or poorly maintained steel, oakwood, and glass structures that formed a large forest of identical homes, all single story with two windows on the front and a door. Each house, some requisitioned as businesses, were virtually identical. Only small differences split them apart. Tagged walls on memorable corners dictated street names such as Galleon and Pint, bright yellow lights kept the slums illuminated during the night but fell quiet and dark during the day, leaving utilizing the sunlight and any other humane means of producing light as a primary daily focus. Right now, it was teetering on duskfall. About an hour and a half before the sun hides behind the horizon. It had been twenty-six minutes since the game with the pear beard merchant and Coria believed themself to be the winner. After pulling the pear out of their pocket, still in perfect condition, Coria bore a gaze into it fervently, as if attempting to consume it with their eyes.
"Cows" Coria stated, as if that explained everything. The man furrowed his brow. "Lad--"
"Or goats".
"Lad, erm. Are you right in the head?". Coria's hands shot up to the metal mask on their face and did a swift, thorough feel check, including the dark fabric to check for tears. "Yes" Coria responded dutifully. Coria rummaged through the loose, deep threaded pockets attached to the leggings that gripped Coria's legs beneath the plates. From the left pocket, Coria pulled a large, thick and visibly ripe pear. "Excuse me, my sir. How do I eat this? I am under the assumption it is edible after perusing your wears-- and pears".
Without missing a beat, the merchant man swiped at the pear with wide eyes. Coria pulled away. Was this some sort of game? "Cocky little guttershite, I'll snap your neck". Guttershite? Definition pending. His voice kept low and steady. At the lack of visible anger or explanation, Coria assumed this was a game indeed. With a turn on the heel, Coria turned their back to the man. "You will wear the face of despair, fool!" in perfect reciting of their favourite scripture from the book building. Coria promptly threw their body into a sprint, slender body weaving through a small mess of merchant-goers. The pear beard merchant man was left inquisitive.
--
The slums outside of the capital Xastristian city were wide enough to lose yourself in easily, stretched in a half-circle around the main city walls of Oak.. Owl.. Owlwood? Coria did not remember hearing a perfect definition. A variety of unfinished or poorly maintained steel, oakwood, and glass structures that formed a large forest of identical homes, all single story with two windows on the front and a door. Each house, some requisitioned as businesses, were virtually identical. Only small differences split them apart. Tagged walls on memorable corners dictated street names such as Galleon and Pint, bright yellow lights kept the slums illuminated during the night but fell quiet and dark during the day, leaving utilizing the sunlight and any other humane means of producing light as a primary daily focus. Right now, it was teetering on duskfall. About an hour and a half before the sun hides behind the horizon. It had been twenty-six minutes since the game with the pear beard merchant and Coria believed themself to be the winner. After pulling the pear out of their pocket, still in perfect condition, Coria bore a gaze into it fervently, as if attempting to consume it with their eyes.