71 Ashan, 717
Pash had actually taken the time to shop for nicer clothes specifically for the evenings he played at Cally’s in a genuine effort to become more a part of the background than to stand out in public, which was admittedly not the normal reason people shopped for fine clothing. The shopping experience had been a fun one, and all the fussy trouble over dressing like someone who wasn’t a drifter on the Orm’del sea had been educational to say the least. Walking to the restaurant near the Central Square all the way from his sloop at the docks, dressed in a crisp, tailored white shirt, clean, well-fitting brown leather breeches with a matching belt, and his usual worn sandals, mother-of-pearl inlaid lute slung over his shoulder and some bawdy sailor tune on his lips attracted far more attention than even he was used to, though in the cloudy, gloomy drizzle there were slightly less people about to notice.
That said, he’d hardly let anyone he knew purposefully see him—Kali an accidental exception—simply because no one needed the expectation of him looking fancy on a regular basis. Occasionally was alright, though. It was kind of freeing to dress above what he perceived as his station, though the reality was he kind of felt outside of all of that as a musician and entertainer.
During the heavier rain of the last several trials, the minstrel had been forced to wear his every day clothes to get soaked in and carry his work clothes carefully folded and wrapped to keep them dry, arriving grossly wet and miserable. He’d always arrived as early as possible early those trials if he could, aware both himself and his instrument needed some time to dry before being presentable … so, as the rains slowed, Pash was grateful for only a light sprinkle instead of a downpour, no matter how cool the temperatures.
Today, the clouds seemed lighter, as if the suns’ light could peek through them at any moment. The walk to Cally’s was through soggy, muddied streets and a somewhat longer route than necessary, if only because a few quicker side paths were flooded enough to be impassable to someone who wanted to remain clean for a job.
Upon arrival, the shipwright’s son entered through the staff entrance near the kitchens, pausing to wipe his muddy sandals and dry off his lute. He re-tied his hair, half of it pulled back in a way that hid his Biqaj ears from casual view and the other half still falling at his shoulders. He nodded to Taylor, who always seemed content to be in the depths of the kitchen, preferably prepping quietly. Other than a brief introduction, Pash wasn’t sure that he’d ever spoken to the other man. Jo’get was already quite busy, and instead of disturb her with a greeting, he simply made his way to his comfortable chair by the window that was already set with a pitcher of water and a few delectable snacks. About ten bits early as always (with the exception of a few trials the week before when he’d been late due to the horrible weather), the seafaring minstrel spent the first few bits quietly tuning his instrument and warming up with a few chords, glancing about the dining room as he did so.
There was only one couple here so early, already enjoying their meal together. They’d just gotten into their main course, and judging by the bottle of wine they’d selected, had some further plans for their evening once they were finished. He never expected returned eye contact, but still made it a regular habit to let his tidepool gaze wander the room in order to read his audience and adjust his music accordingly.
Settled and ready, he poured himself a cup of water and then began to play softly. His first tune was what one may have been able to call romantic, an encouraging but subtle collection of notes for his only listeners.
His chords were light and breezy, and while he played he watched the couple smile as they talked in hushed tones, touch hands when they poured more wine, and laugh warmly as if they genuinely enjoyed each other’s’ company. Trudi brought them their meal and managed to catch his eye to give him a wink, though it would have otherwise been far too easy to play along with the flirtatious nature he’d learned she harbored while on his mid-shift rest.
That said, he’d hardly let anyone he knew purposefully see him—Kali an accidental exception—simply because no one needed the expectation of him looking fancy on a regular basis. Occasionally was alright, though. It was kind of freeing to dress above what he perceived as his station, though the reality was he kind of felt outside of all of that as a musician and entertainer.
During the heavier rain of the last several trials, the minstrel had been forced to wear his every day clothes to get soaked in and carry his work clothes carefully folded and wrapped to keep them dry, arriving grossly wet and miserable. He’d always arrived as early as possible early those trials if he could, aware both himself and his instrument needed some time to dry before being presentable … so, as the rains slowed, Pash was grateful for only a light sprinkle instead of a downpour, no matter how cool the temperatures.
Today, the clouds seemed lighter, as if the suns’ light could peek through them at any moment. The walk to Cally’s was through soggy, muddied streets and a somewhat longer route than necessary, if only because a few quicker side paths were flooded enough to be impassable to someone who wanted to remain clean for a job.
Upon arrival, the shipwright’s son entered through the staff entrance near the kitchens, pausing to wipe his muddy sandals and dry off his lute. He re-tied his hair, half of it pulled back in a way that hid his Biqaj ears from casual view and the other half still falling at his shoulders. He nodded to Taylor, who always seemed content to be in the depths of the kitchen, preferably prepping quietly. Other than a brief introduction, Pash wasn’t sure that he’d ever spoken to the other man. Jo’get was already quite busy, and instead of disturb her with a greeting, he simply made his way to his comfortable chair by the window that was already set with a pitcher of water and a few delectable snacks. About ten bits early as always (with the exception of a few trials the week before when he’d been late due to the horrible weather), the seafaring minstrel spent the first few bits quietly tuning his instrument and warming up with a few chords, glancing about the dining room as he did so.
There was only one couple here so early, already enjoying their meal together. They’d just gotten into their main course, and judging by the bottle of wine they’d selected, had some further plans for their evening once they were finished. He never expected returned eye contact, but still made it a regular habit to let his tidepool gaze wander the room in order to read his audience and adjust his music accordingly.
Settled and ready, he poured himself a cup of water and then began to play softly. His first tune was what one may have been able to call romantic, an encouraging but subtle collection of notes for his only listeners.
His chords were light and breezy, and while he played he watched the couple smile as they talked in hushed tones, touch hands when they poured more wine, and laugh warmly as if they genuinely enjoyed each other’s’ company. Trudi brought them their meal and managed to catch his eye to give him a wink, though it would have otherwise been far too easy to play along with the flirtatious nature he’d learned she harbored while on his mid-shift rest.
Shopping Ledger
- White cotton tailored shirt: 12sn x .25 (large for standing over 6’) x 1.2 (cotton) x 2 (quality) = 3gn, 4sn, 6cn
- Brown leather breeches: 1gn x .25 (large for standing over 6’) x 4 (leather) x .8 (color)= 4gn, 8sn
- Brown leather belt: 1gn x 4 (leather) x .8 (color) = 3gn, 2sn
(plus, you're just the guy in the background)
