Smol, Swol, & Snow

[Alyssa Snow]

The capital city of Corone, Radasandth. In the warm rays of the high sun, its citizens flowed through the city streets like a living river. Idle conversation blended together into a muted symphony of laughter, shouts, and the familiar jingle of gold begging to be spent. Her own coin purse heavy, Alyssa's wide eyed gaze bounced from vendor stall to shop window. While her mind nagged at the intent of her mission in Corone, the girl who strived for a normal life always found a way to crawl to the surface.

"Miss!" The voice called out above the droning drab. "You there! Miss!"

The young homunculus paused in the cobblestone streets. Passersby bounced her around with unintentional shoulders until the sea parted around her. Through the passing bodies, she caught a glimpse of a frantically waving man framed in course hair and peppered beard. Alyssa pressed a finger against her simple, white tunic with a cocked brow.

"Yes! Yes! Come! Come!" The vendor's hand coaxed her toward him and she navigated the crowd to his open stand.

Fabrics of beautiful shade and design draped all about on display. The high sun lit the exotic colors blaze.

"Yes, yes. Hello!" greeted the middle aged salesman. His gapped smile spread wide to reveal what yellowed teeth he still had. Despite his dental atrocity, his sun kissed features remained inviting and warm.

"Hello," Alyssa greeted in her musical tone. She returned a modest smile as her eyes wandered about his wares.

"A lovely girl like yourself should shouldn't wear such plain clothes." While blunt, his kind expression diffused any malice or insult. "Someone like yourself should wear something like this!"

He pulled a bolt of fabric from the wooden rack above him, hidden from public view. The brilliant blues and magenta's of exotic silk and thread shimmered in the light as he held it out to her. Alyssa drew a breath as she took it from him and felt the soft sheen of it on her skin. Compared to plain linen draped over her, she could only imagine the luxury of a dress made of the beautiful fabric.

"You like, yes?" He inquired with a near serpentine hiss of interest.

"It's beautiful," she muttered in a near trance. Her hand ran down the bolt, gently over the cleanly woven threads.

"Good, good! Yours for five hundred a yard!"

Alyssa's chest grew hollow and she frowned. A look of yearning washed over her gentle face with a sigh. She took another deep breath, a final look, and handed it back to the man.

"You don't like?" he barked. His warm welcome became confusion. He held the bolt out to her again. "I'll give you special price, four fifty."

"I'm sorry," Alyssa responded with a shake of her head. "I do like it, but--"

"Pah..." scoffed the salesman. All semblance of kindness faded to scrunched brows and down turned lips. "Go! I only have time for customers. Go, go!"

He retreated the fabric to its hiding place and shooed the humunculus away.

"Go! Go!" he barked.

Alyssa sighed. With the memory of the silk still fresh on her skin, she turned back to the seething river of people. Then, through the midst of the crowd, she noticed a man towering above the majority. Built as though hewn from the mountains themselves, Alyssa couldn't help but recognize his face. At the expense of a few disgruntled citizens, she wove through the stampede without losing sight of him.

"John?" she called out. He looked like a member of the Tarot she had seen maybe once or twice in passing. Vincent spoke of him from time to time, but nothing that quite stuck in her memory. Then again, his hulking size and contrasting gentle face wasn't something easily forgotten.

"John!" she called out again, trying to raise her melodic voice over the cacophony. "John, is that you?!"