101 Ashan 720
The snake coiled around her throat, its tongue tasting the air as she slowed under the lamp post, "I don't know, Raa..." Yeva swallowed, brown eyes flickering up from the battered map, "I really thought the craft store would be right here.... We must have taken a wrong turn or... maybe... it could have been the last block."
White teeth sunk into a lush lip, followed by a puff of defeated air, "We should just ask for directions. Honestly, I don't know why I'm so bad at this."
After what had happened in Almund, Yeva had been more unsure in her travels through the city alone. More than anything she wanted to get back to the inn, curl up with an embroidery hoop, a hot glass of tea, and listen to the bards playing their music in the tavern below. Maybe this was it? She didn't exactly have a picture of the place, and the description the woman had gave her hadn't exactly been full proof... But here? In the alley? The building itself was not particularly inviting or well placed. Its walls were made with aged gray ship lap siding with a gutter that twisted and hooked in daggered angles giving its comically thin architecture an almost sinister appearance... that is, if it ddn't strike the viewer as so sad.
What Yeva noticed first, outside of the dreary presence or that she was once again hopelessly lost, was the lack of signage. On the building to her right, she knew it to be a butchery, and on the right, a cobbler. But tucked away, as if shoved around by the rest of the street and forgotten, was the two story nameless structure, "It could be as good as any other place if it doesn't have a shop front, right? And what would they need to display, anyway? Silver thimbles?"
Amused by her own jest, the red head regarded the map once more before reaching into her back pocket and producing a pencil. Turning it over, Yeva recorded the date beneath a number of other handwritten lines:
She tucked the paper away and made her way up the steps to knock upon the front door. Knock. Knock. Knock.
Behind the door was the sound of feet, and the door cracked up to reveal two dark eyes. Upon seeing her, it opened more, "Who are you?"
"Y-yeva?"
"Are you asking me, or telling me?"
"Um, telling. Sorry, I'm trying to find a store I heard about. They sell fabrics, colored thread... that sort of thing. Am I in the wrong place?"
"Obviously!" the woman who answered sniffed loudly, pushing up the round spectacles balanced on her cherry nose, "You're looking at PB Paper House! Can't you read the sign?"
"Sign?" the medic looked over her shoulder and then stepped back to try and see if she had missed one above the door, "I didn't see... There was no sign?"
The woman scoffed, stomping past the woman in a robe of canary yellow, "No sign!" she screeched and then paused, scanned the store front, "Hm... Must have been stolen. Come inside!"
White teeth sunk into a lush lip, followed by a puff of defeated air, "We should just ask for directions. Honestly, I don't know why I'm so bad at this."
After what had happened in Almund, Yeva had been more unsure in her travels through the city alone. More than anything she wanted to get back to the inn, curl up with an embroidery hoop, a hot glass of tea, and listen to the bards playing their music in the tavern below. Maybe this was it? She didn't exactly have a picture of the place, and the description the woman had gave her hadn't exactly been full proof... But here? In the alley? The building itself was not particularly inviting or well placed. Its walls were made with aged gray ship lap siding with a gutter that twisted and hooked in daggered angles giving its comically thin architecture an almost sinister appearance... that is, if it ddn't strike the viewer as so sad.
What Yeva noticed first, outside of the dreary presence or that she was once again hopelessly lost, was the lack of signage. On the building to her right, she knew it to be a butchery, and on the right, a cobbler. But tucked away, as if shoved around by the rest of the street and forgotten, was the two story nameless structure, "It could be as good as any other place if it doesn't have a shop front, right? And what would they need to display, anyway? Silver thimbles?"
Amused by her own jest, the red head regarded the map once more before reaching into her back pocket and producing a pencil. Turning it over, Yeva recorded the date beneath a number of other handwritten lines:
110 Ashan - Lost again. Shopping.
She tucked the paper away and made her way up the steps to knock upon the front door. Knock. Knock. Knock.
Behind the door was the sound of feet, and the door cracked up to reveal two dark eyes. Upon seeing her, it opened more, "Who are you?"
"Y-yeva?"
"Are you asking me, or telling me?"
"Um, telling. Sorry, I'm trying to find a store I heard about. They sell fabrics, colored thread... that sort of thing. Am I in the wrong place?"
"Obviously!" the woman who answered sniffed loudly, pushing up the round spectacles balanced on her cherry nose, "You're looking at PB Paper House! Can't you read the sign?"
"Sign?" the medic looked over her shoulder and then stepped back to try and see if she had missed one above the door, "I didn't see... There was no sign?"
The woman scoffed, stomping past the woman in a robe of canary yellow, "No sign!" she screeched and then paused, scanned the store front, "Hm... Must have been stolen. Come inside!"