Music and Stone (Closed)

[Yvonne]

Placing her crossbow away behind lock and key was more difficult than she had first thought it would be. Her feelings about the weapon were paradoxical. She hated using it, felt guilty every time she fired a shot let alone injured someone but, found she didn't want to let it go. The crossbow was a memory of her mother - thinking of her mother made her feel innocent and safe, even though she wasn't here. Leaving her crossbow behind welcomed feelings of apprehension, isolation and vulnerability. She reminded herself this was temporary, she was storing it for a while because it caused others to think her dangerous and that wasn't the impression she wanted to give today.

The black-skinned dwarf stepped out onto a cobblestone, closing the door to the inn behind her. She appeared out of place as she often did, walking the Stonevale dirt-road in heels and stockings, her skirt swishing against her knees. The Aleran let her straight-black hair down, ran her fingers through it suggesting nervousness and began to gather a ponytail. She twisted the tail around itself while continuing to walk, securing her bun with a tie and pins. There, that should give a better impression, hopefully one of wealth and class.

Yvonne had never found her way here before, only arriving yesterday. Stonevale was a long way from home. Even during her travels with her mentor they'd not journeyed this far south-east. It was a quaint little village that reminded her of Kachuck - in its own way, the clinks of pickaxes and the clanging of metalwork - and these familiarities helped her to feel better. Perhaps she could carve out a nook of her own here, buy a humble house, start a modest business - become an important part of this community. The sunlight was too bright though, despite setting. Perhaps not. All of that was as they say, wait and see - or as the grey dwarf preferred to say, hurry and see.

Yvonne always had a good reason for arriving in a new place and once she had arrived, found her feet, she looked for ways she could contribute to society. Over a year ago she'd asked her mentor how to be taken seriously. How to convince those around her to stop treating her like a piece of trash. He replied with words of wisdom she will never forget. Make it so everyone is in your debt. Sometimes a great opportunity to help many arises - be there, take it - but even in quiet times her mentor had stressed the importance of keeping yourself slightly too busy, lest upon task completion your time is whisked away with procrastination. He explained that once it's obvious you've done your utmost to help others, continue to do so - important members of society notice. You make connections with people of influence, hopefully they're like-minded allies - not rivals - and before you know it your name is bandied about for mayor.

It was a likely story. One she didn't believe.

No, mostly the trader had come to experience a night-market in a smaller-scale environment. She'd grown accustomed to the sprawling cities of Ettermire and Radasanth. Would a market by night still be profitable with a smaller customer base? Product choice would be critical - people have different needs at night than during the day, rest, shelter, warmth and entertainment. That's why inns, taverns and brothels succeed. They provide for the needs we all have.

Wham! Oh gods!

Yvonne - clumsy daydreamer - collided with someone carrying an armload of bread loaves, knocking a few loose of his grasp. This, however, was the perfect time to be short, and she caught them both, one and two, with more time to react than most. Who would have thought being short had its uses after all?

"I'm sorry! Forgive me, I wasn't watching where I be going. Me eyes, they be sensitive ta tha sun," she explained, about to gesture to the goggles she was wearing, realizing she was still holding the bread, his bread. Sheepish, Yvonne offered them back with both outstretched arms.

"I didn't mean ta knock ye about mister."