Linen scratched softly against the skin on the tips of Chesslin's fingers as he flicked shut yet another herbal packet. The day had started slow at the apothecary's, and the pace had shown no signs of picking up since. He had seen perhaps three customers all morning. The rest of his time the boy had spent binding tiny packets of their most commonly requested mixtures for the shelves at the back of the store.
Twisting a length of twine around the gathered fabric, Chesslin tossed the finish product off into a small pile of bundles to his left. He had constructed twelve satchels of echinacea, ginger root, and cinnamon. It was, perhaps, their most demanded remedy, best for clearing the head and soothing a cough. He was swathed, as with every day, in the sweet and spicy aroma that he had come to love when he was a child. Chess had never forgotten the first day he had come here, to visit Morilyn in a time when he was lonely, shortly after his brother began work in the fields. His first impression of this little shop had been the vibrant living smells that now clung to his simple tunic and trousers everywhere he went. Anyone who did not know on sight that he worked at the apothecary's would recognize it the moment they caught a whiff of peppermint and honey.
With a low sigh, Chesslin gathered up the collection of linen bundles. He stepped carefully across the shop, ducking from behind the counter under a row of plants hung out to dry, he placed his handful on the creaking wooden shelves. One rolled away, trying to escape, but Chess caught it deftly and placed it back atop the pile. Then, he paused, casting around through vibrant cobalt eyes, taking stock of everything the shop had, compiling a list of what he was going to need.
"Burdock," he mused under his breath. Chesslin had gotten into the habit of talking to himself at work, whenever Morilyn was not there for conversation. Encased in walls of rough, aging pine, his head filled with the musk of herbs and spices, Chess doubted he could have maintained his sanity otherwise. Young men were not meant for working in such dimly lit shops as this. Still, no matter how energetic his mind was, no matter how much his thoughts wandered, Chess loved his work here. There was so much to learn, even now.
Chesslin nodded and rolled up his sleeves as he walked back to the counter. The floorboards creaked quietly under the soft fabric of his boots. He stretched up onto the tips of his toes to reach the clip that held the burdock plant wedged between the wooden beams of the ceiling. Though the roof here was low, adding to the small, cozy feeling of the shop, Chesslin was also a very petite person. So thin he seemed nearly starved and a full head shorter than most boys his age, even the ceiling of Morilyn's apothecary remained almost out of reach.
Finally snagging the roots of the herb, Chesslin dropped back onto his heels with a sigh. He wandered back around the counter and snatched up a knife as he went. The burdock rustled softly when he laid it against the worn and mottled wood of the counter. Chesslin fell to his task, picking off the leaves one by one and stacking them to be cut, just waiting for a patient to walk through the open door.
It's your own fault, you know.
Re: It's your own fault, you know.
The strong smell of ale, the breasts of the bar wench that half-heartedly struggled in his grasp still bounced before his eyes. He'd wanted to grab them, he remembered, prove just how much of a man he could be if she'd only just let him damn it, then the floor punched him in the face when she managed to escape. He only vaguely remembered the laughter, the pint set before him and the tunes of the shit bard. Sitting up now, hand pressed to his head to make sure it really HADN'T, in fact, exploded, Allen never remembered wandering into the woods.
"Changers thrice damn this goddamn hangover." Allen growled, coughing when his sore throat constricted and his belly lurched. He managed to swallow the rising bile, fending it off with what felt like cotton in his mouth, and push himself upright. He staggered when his world spun, swearing gruffly, and looked around slowly when his world righted itself. He saw a tree, another tree... make that a lot of unfamiliar trees. He listened, wanting to swear when a particularly loud bird trilled beside him. He could hear a stream, which meant water, which would hopefully be cold. Mind made up he trudged towards the sound.
A little further away, several falls and a lost...whatever that was... later, Allen stumbled into the river. He'd stripped, washed his clothes and was now wading into the water, not really caring if anyone was crass enough to watch him do so. Hell, they could gawk if they liked - he had nothing to hide, he was the very definition of manliness! Full beard, solid body, big - Changers was that a bloody fish biting his toe? He kicked the offending creature away before going back to washing out whatever it was he'd split in his beard, out. Once clean he pulled himself and his clothes out of the water and laid them and himself out on the rocks to dry.
He didn't remember falling asleep, but when he woke, it was to a still pounding head. Groaning he rolled over and vomited into the grass. Once more washing his face and beard, the dwarf dressed himself with difficulty and staggered towards the general direction he was pretty sure Marn was in.
It took awhile, but when he emerged from the wood and into Shim, Allen was pissed. He was positive this had been the changers thrice damned way! Bloody trees and sky, bloody sun - what time was it anyways? He groaned when his stomach lurched and decided he didn't really care, he just wanted some damn plants to make this god the fuck away. He knew where good ol' Morilyn kept her shop. The crazy old coot was crazy as far as he was concerned - locking herself up in that old, dark, dingy place; muttering and crushing plants, but hey - whatever the fuck she gives him usually works.
He came in, nice and quiet in case the old bat was in a bad mood, only to see this little kid. Allen remembered seeing him around the shop a time or two, just a little human kid who seemed to like plants too. Weird kid, but good as far as Allen could tell. Hopefully he wasn't stupid and knew what he was doing.
"Hey kid, you got anything fer a thrice-damned hangover?"
"Changers thrice damn this goddamn hangover." Allen growled, coughing when his sore throat constricted and his belly lurched. He managed to swallow the rising bile, fending it off with what felt like cotton in his mouth, and push himself upright. He staggered when his world spun, swearing gruffly, and looked around slowly when his world righted itself. He saw a tree, another tree... make that a lot of unfamiliar trees. He listened, wanting to swear when a particularly loud bird trilled beside him. He could hear a stream, which meant water, which would hopefully be cold. Mind made up he trudged towards the sound.
A little further away, several falls and a lost...whatever that was... later, Allen stumbled into the river. He'd stripped, washed his clothes and was now wading into the water, not really caring if anyone was crass enough to watch him do so. Hell, they could gawk if they liked - he had nothing to hide, he was the very definition of manliness! Full beard, solid body, big - Changers was that a bloody fish biting his toe? He kicked the offending creature away before going back to washing out whatever it was he'd split in his beard, out. Once clean he pulled himself and his clothes out of the water and laid them and himself out on the rocks to dry.
He didn't remember falling asleep, but when he woke, it was to a still pounding head. Groaning he rolled over and vomited into the grass. Once more washing his face and beard, the dwarf dressed himself with difficulty and staggered towards the general direction he was pretty sure Marn was in.
It took awhile, but when he emerged from the wood and into Shim, Allen was pissed. He was positive this had been the changers thrice damned way! Bloody trees and sky, bloody sun - what time was it anyways? He groaned when his stomach lurched and decided he didn't really care, he just wanted some damn plants to make this god the fuck away. He knew where good ol' Morilyn kept her shop. The crazy old coot was crazy as far as he was concerned - locking herself up in that old, dark, dingy place; muttering and crushing plants, but hey - whatever the fuck she gives him usually works.
He came in, nice and quiet in case the old bat was in a bad mood, only to see this little kid. Allen remembered seeing him around the shop a time or two, just a little human kid who seemed to like plants too. Weird kid, but good as far as Allen could tell. Hopefully he wasn't stupid and knew what he was doing.
"Hey kid, you got anything fer a thrice-damned hangover?"
Re: It's your own fault, you know.
Chesslin pushed aside the neat slices of burdock root, separating them from the cleanly shredded leaves, adding each ingredient to its own little stockpile. He raised a hand, smudged in some of the soil that had remained clinging to the roots, and brushed a stray strand of honey-brown hair out of his face. In the growing heat of the closed up little shop, it had started to slip form the twine with which he bound it back. Sometimes, he contemplated cutting it, but Chess already felt so small and the longer hair made him seem just that tiny fraction larger. He could never bring himself to actually do it.
Just as he turned to reach another dried plant down from the ceiling, a figure came into the doorway, blotting the sunlight out of the apothecary. Chesslin looked around and found himself confronted with the burly image of dwarven masculinity.
Chesslin had seen the dwarf before, whenever he came in to purchase various packets of herbs from Morilyn. For the most part Chesslin had kept to himself, tucked into a corner behind the counter, working with the herbs. That was where he hid when Morilyn was there to do the selling. The fact that he was tucked into a shadowy corner, however, did not mean that he was blind. Chesslin knew the full-bearded, gruff-spoken dwarf the instant he laid eyes on Allen's face.
"Of course," Chesslin murmured in response to the harsh tone of his customer. He spoke softly, sensitive to the dwarf's likely pounding head. Though Chesslin had never been drunk himself, there had been more than enough hungover men through this shop since he started working there for him to know what hurt and what did not. Shouting, and in some cases talking, hurt. "Headache, dizziness, and nausea?"
He did not wait for a response. The herbs would be the same, regardless. Turning to the shelves, Chesslin raised one thin hand and combed across the different packets of herbs. It took a matter of seconds to search out the ginger root and lemon zest. He picked up one little satchel and turned back to the customer.
"This is meant as a tea," he told Allen, still soft spoken. He returned to the counter and slid the packet across for the dwarf. Chesslin made no attempt to smile - he did not possess Morilyn's generally friendly manner. Chess had always been too serious for a boy his age, rarely smiling, laughing even less. Reaching underneath the counter, Chess picked up a vial of thick amber liquid. "Add the honey after you've brewed it." He set the vial down alongside the linen bundle. That done, he fully expected that the dwarf would pay and take his leave. Most customers did. There were not many in or around Shim who would spend a great deal of time talking to herbalists. There were not many in or around Shim who wanted that badly to get into a conversation about plants.
Just as he turned to reach another dried plant down from the ceiling, a figure came into the doorway, blotting the sunlight out of the apothecary. Chesslin looked around and found himself confronted with the burly image of dwarven masculinity.
Chesslin had seen the dwarf before, whenever he came in to purchase various packets of herbs from Morilyn. For the most part Chesslin had kept to himself, tucked into a corner behind the counter, working with the herbs. That was where he hid when Morilyn was there to do the selling. The fact that he was tucked into a shadowy corner, however, did not mean that he was blind. Chesslin knew the full-bearded, gruff-spoken dwarf the instant he laid eyes on Allen's face.
"Of course," Chesslin murmured in response to the harsh tone of his customer. He spoke softly, sensitive to the dwarf's likely pounding head. Though Chesslin had never been drunk himself, there had been more than enough hungover men through this shop since he started working there for him to know what hurt and what did not. Shouting, and in some cases talking, hurt. "Headache, dizziness, and nausea?"
He did not wait for a response. The herbs would be the same, regardless. Turning to the shelves, Chesslin raised one thin hand and combed across the different packets of herbs. It took a matter of seconds to search out the ginger root and lemon zest. He picked up one little satchel and turned back to the customer.
"This is meant as a tea," he told Allen, still soft spoken. He returned to the counter and slid the packet across for the dwarf. Chesslin made no attempt to smile - he did not possess Morilyn's generally friendly manner. Chess had always been too serious for a boy his age, rarely smiling, laughing even less. Reaching underneath the counter, Chess picked up a vial of thick amber liquid. "Add the honey after you've brewed it." He set the vial down alongside the linen bundle. That done, he fully expected that the dwarf would pay and take his leave. Most customers did. There were not many in or around Shim who would spend a great deal of time talking to herbalists. There were not many in or around Shim who wanted that badly to get into a conversation about plants.
Re: It's your own fault, you know.
Normally, he'd do what any other sod would do and just pay and take the damn stuff and go. Probably just go into the Chalice and bark at the girl for a pint and some hot water, but something about that boy... something made Allen want to stay. He wanted to talk to the soft spoken, serious boy with girly hair. Changers he was such a feminine kid... playing with plants and selling tea and honey in a vile.
"Actually, lad. Ye mind if I drink that here? I'll pay extra and shit, jus' a long hike to Marn an' I don't want to go the Chalice. Changers know that place is as loud as shit." He dug into his coin purse, just in case, and pulled out a couple extra Bishani than what he'd owed. Either way he'd lay the sum on the table and be done with it, hopefully the Red Chalice wasn't too loud.
"It's fine if ye don't want me here, I'll just go." He blurted out gruffly, shuffling his feet. Changers why the fuck was this so damn awkward?
"Actually, lad. Ye mind if I drink that here? I'll pay extra and shit, jus' a long hike to Marn an' I don't want to go the Chalice. Changers know that place is as loud as shit." He dug into his coin purse, just in case, and pulled out a couple extra Bishani than what he'd owed. Either way he'd lay the sum on the table and be done with it, hopefully the Red Chalice wasn't too loud.
"It's fine if ye don't want me here, I'll just go." He blurted out gruffly, shuffling his feet. Changers why the fuck was this so damn awkward?
Re: It's your own fault, you know.
Chesslin turned to place the dwarf's payment in an aged, intricately carved wooden box, out of which Morilyn pulled his salary at the end of the day. He had just tossed the little handful of Bishani in amongst the other coins and was about the close the box when the dwarf spoke again.
He hesitated, glancing at the extra Bishani the dwarf laid on the counter along with his request. He had no problem with the dwarf staying, but paying? When all that Chess was going to do was give him some hot water to steep his tea? It seemed rather thrifty. On the other hand, they could use the money. Morilyn would take it.
Leaving the box open, Chesslin straightened up. He took the extra Bishani and tossed them in the box, closed it, locked it, and slid the key carefully into a hidden fold in the pocket of his tunic. Then he looked back up to Allen and beckoned him behind the counter.
"Come," he invited, still unsmiling but not unfriendly. He gestured to a creaking wooden chair in the back. It was meant for customers who came here out of breath or having difficulty supporting their own weight, but as Allen was the only customer here now, Chesslin saw no issue in letting him use it. "Sit, and I'll heat you some water."
He hesitated, glancing at the extra Bishani the dwarf laid on the counter along with his request. He had no problem with the dwarf staying, but paying? When all that Chess was going to do was give him some hot water to steep his tea? It seemed rather thrifty. On the other hand, they could use the money. Morilyn would take it.
Leaving the box open, Chesslin straightened up. He took the extra Bishani and tossed them in the box, closed it, locked it, and slid the key carefully into a hidden fold in the pocket of his tunic. Then he looked back up to Allen and beckoned him behind the counter.
"Come," he invited, still unsmiling but not unfriendly. He gestured to a creaking wooden chair in the back. It was meant for customers who came here out of breath or having difficulty supporting their own weight, but as Allen was the only customer here now, Chesslin saw no issue in letting him use it. "Sit, and I'll heat you some water."
Re: It's your own fault, you know.
Allen did what he was asked, waiting till the kid didn't have his eyes on him to climb into the chair. Damn things were so tall. That managed and now that he was seated in the complaining chair, Allen couldn't help but to notice just how fucking gloomy the place was. Why did he want to stay here again? The boy barely made any noise as he moved, his movements soothing - Changers above this kids was girly. Allen almost wished he'd stomp about, then decided against it, thus reminding him of the reason he wanted to stay - silence.
Re: It's your own fault, you know.
Chesslin walked to the very back of the store, where a little door led back into a second room meant specifically for heating water. A lot of the herbs they used here not only smelled horridly, but could not be consumed until they had been thoroughly cooked, and Morilyn said they could not afford to pass out those particular herbs to anyone who might decide it was too much of a hassle to boil them. Thus, they boiled them directly in the shop.
"I'll only be a moment," he promised the dwarf as he twisted the copper handle on the creaky wooden door. He pushed it open and glanced into the small, dark space beyond. There were no windows here, and only a small gas lamp for light. Morilyn had always preferred lighting by fire. "Take a spoonful of that honey if you're feeling nauseous. It will help."
With that, Chesslin slipped back into the shadows of the boiling room. He had started a pot of water that morning, in preparation. He had intended it for the plants from his garden - they were try, now, and it was time to boil them down. Giving the dwarf some tea, however, would not hurt anyone. It certainly would not take much from the pot that sat on the fire, not yet bubbling. Plucking a thick clay mug off some hooks by the door, Chess stooped, dipping it into the hot liquid, nearly burning his hand in the steam. He flinched and withdrew, carrying the mug back out to his sole customer.
"There," he murmured, setting the mug down on the shelf beside the dwarf. "Pour the packet in and let it steep for a while."
With that, he returned to his place by the counter. Gathering up his knife once more, Chesslin stretched up to his full height and pulled down a dry, rustling peppermint plant. He laid it on the counter and started to chop, careful to keep his movements quiet for the dwarf's sake.
"I'll only be a moment," he promised the dwarf as he twisted the copper handle on the creaky wooden door. He pushed it open and glanced into the small, dark space beyond. There were no windows here, and only a small gas lamp for light. Morilyn had always preferred lighting by fire. "Take a spoonful of that honey if you're feeling nauseous. It will help."
With that, Chesslin slipped back into the shadows of the boiling room. He had started a pot of water that morning, in preparation. He had intended it for the plants from his garden - they were try, now, and it was time to boil them down. Giving the dwarf some tea, however, would not hurt anyone. It certainly would not take much from the pot that sat on the fire, not yet bubbling. Plucking a thick clay mug off some hooks by the door, Chess stooped, dipping it into the hot liquid, nearly burning his hand in the steam. He flinched and withdrew, carrying the mug back out to his sole customer.
"There," he murmured, setting the mug down on the shelf beside the dwarf. "Pour the packet in and let it steep for a while."
With that, he returned to his place by the counter. Gathering up his knife once more, Chesslin stretched up to his full height and pulled down a dry, rustling peppermint plant. He laid it on the counter and started to chop, careful to keep his movements quiet for the dwarf's sake.
Re: It's your own fault, you know.
The lad had come back with a mug of steaming water, not something Allen was accustomed to seeing. Certainly he enjoyed yea once in awhile, shit was damn good for a headache, but the stuff he dumped into the mug smelled like a Changers dirty loincloth. He dumped the vial of honey in there as well, praying to whatever Changer he hadn't offended already and was willing to listen, that this stuff wouldn't taste too bad. One sip once he guessed the stuff was dark enough, and he fought back the urge to simply chug it as he would ale. Shit would burn his throat, then where would he be?
Allen lowered his mug, letting it cool a bit before he continued to drink the herbal remedy, before eying the mousy boy. Bloody lad was feminine, looked more like a sapling than an oak. Maybe that was why he liked crazy Morilyn...
"So eh... why do ye study under ol' Morilyn, lad?" Allen asked gruffly, digging deep for some form of conversation. His head certainly wasn't about to explode now, so he figured it was safe to venture into the very thing all dwarves were good at - talking. Sure he was less fancy with his words then some bloody, tree-hugging elf would be, but hell, he knew how to (somewhat) polite!
Although... since the lad studied under Morilyn... maybe the little fucker could turn him into a toad like the old hag had threatened a time or two. Wouldn't surprise him. Just a herb there and POOF! He'd be eating bugs. Squirming uncomfortably from the thought, Allen resolved to be polite to this womanly man, because Changers only knew what this kid was capable of.
Allen lowered his mug, letting it cool a bit before he continued to drink the herbal remedy, before eying the mousy boy. Bloody lad was feminine, looked more like a sapling than an oak. Maybe that was why he liked crazy Morilyn...
"So eh... why do ye study under ol' Morilyn, lad?" Allen asked gruffly, digging deep for some form of conversation. His head certainly wasn't about to explode now, so he figured it was safe to venture into the very thing all dwarves were good at - talking. Sure he was less fancy with his words then some bloody, tree-hugging elf would be, but hell, he knew how to (somewhat) polite!
Although... since the lad studied under Morilyn... maybe the little fucker could turn him into a toad like the old hag had threatened a time or two. Wouldn't surprise him. Just a herb there and POOF! He'd be eating bugs. Squirming uncomfortably from the thought, Allen resolved to be polite to this womanly man, because Changers only knew what this kid was capable of.
Re: It's your own fault, you know.
Chesslin watched through unerring eyes while the dwarf mixed his tea, waiting just long enough to see that he did it properly before returning to his chores. The boy picked up his knife again, dragging a peppermint plant across the counter, to the pale, rough spot left by countless years of slicing. How long, Chess wondered, had Morilyn been cutting here before he had started? It was a question he would likely never know the answer to. Morilyn did not like to talk about her age.
Chesslin had cut the peppermint down to its last few immature leaves when the dwarf spoke again. He paused, his knife half way through the stem, and glanced over his shoulder at his customer. Idly, Chesslin wondered why Allen had stayed. It was rare to encounter a customer he wanted to spend more time than necessary in the dim and the scent of the apothecary's. Then again, perhaps the dim light and the sinus-opening aroma of herbs was precisely what Allen needed right now. Not to mention Chesslin's own quiet nature. So little was ever said in this place, he supposed it would seem a haven to a man who had drunk more than his fill the night before.
He set set his knife down on the counter, pushing the half-chopped peppermint off to one side, before turning to face Allen completely. Chesslin's ice blue eyes retained an almost feverish light resonating between curiosity, intelligence, and amusement. They settled on Allen confidently, without the usual deference of a child met with someone so clearly strong as this dwarf. Allen could probably have picked Chesslin up and thrown him clear across the shop, if he so chose, but Chesslin still felt no fear.
"Morilyn is someone to talk to when my brother is working in the fields," Chesslin answered Allen in complete honesty. He saw no reason to lie, or gloss over the fact that he was generally alone. What was there to be ashamed of. "I started visiting her when I was a child and I never stopped." He shrugged slightly at that, moving across the floor to the shelves behind the counter to shuffle through the herb bundles and make sure that they were properly sorted. "I could not help but pick up on some of the herbal lore when I spent every day here."
Chesslin had cut the peppermint down to its last few immature leaves when the dwarf spoke again. He paused, his knife half way through the stem, and glanced over his shoulder at his customer. Idly, Chesslin wondered why Allen had stayed. It was rare to encounter a customer he wanted to spend more time than necessary in the dim and the scent of the apothecary's. Then again, perhaps the dim light and the sinus-opening aroma of herbs was precisely what Allen needed right now. Not to mention Chesslin's own quiet nature. So little was ever said in this place, he supposed it would seem a haven to a man who had drunk more than his fill the night before.
He set set his knife down on the counter, pushing the half-chopped peppermint off to one side, before turning to face Allen completely. Chesslin's ice blue eyes retained an almost feverish light resonating between curiosity, intelligence, and amusement. They settled on Allen confidently, without the usual deference of a child met with someone so clearly strong as this dwarf. Allen could probably have picked Chesslin up and thrown him clear across the shop, if he so chose, but Chesslin still felt no fear.
"Morilyn is someone to talk to when my brother is working in the fields," Chesslin answered Allen in complete honesty. He saw no reason to lie, or gloss over the fact that he was generally alone. What was there to be ashamed of. "I started visiting her when I was a child and I never stopped." He shrugged slightly at that, moving across the floor to the shelves behind the counter to shuffle through the herb bundles and make sure that they were properly sorted. "I could not help but pick up on some of the herbal lore when I spent every day here."
Re: It's your own fault, you know.
Allen watched the young lad, his interest piqued. He'd seen it, the brains. The kid was smart, something that was rare nowadays. Allen finished off his tea, sighing as the last dredges of his headache began to seep away. His stomach no longer felt as though it would reject anything he smelt let alone ate, and he felt something closer akin to focus then haze.
"Well either ye learned well, or the ol' croon stashed some of her miracle stuff in the back. Either way, thanks lad." Allen eyed the younger boy curiously, remembering vaguely when he was that young.
"But doncha wanna try somethin' else? I know I did when I was a lad."
"Well either ye learned well, or the ol' croon stashed some of her miracle stuff in the back. Either way, thanks lad." Allen eyed the younger boy curiously, remembering vaguely when he was that young.
"But doncha wanna try somethin' else? I know I did when I was a lad."
Re: It's your own fault, you know.
For the first time since Allen had walked into the store, and though the dwarf could not know it, the first time all day, Chesslin found a smile drawn out across his lips. It was not a smile in the way that many boys his age would smile - big and broad and goofy with lots of bright teeth. Chess's smile was tiny, tight-lipped, barely more than polite acknowledgement on a normal face. Chesslin rarely wore anything but a serious expression, however, so to anyone who knew him well, the expression was one of remarkable happiness.
He was about to respond, when a faint scratching reached his ears. Distracted, Chesslin looked down under the counter, to a covered wicker basket tucked away in the shadows. This was the only thing in the shop that truly belonged to Chesslin. Everything else was Morilyn's, but this basket came back and forth with him from his farm house every day. Stooping slightly, shrinking his already tiny frame, he pulled the basket out and lifted the top away. He reached one thin hand through the gap and produced a simple dormouse.
Most of these creatures would skitter, squeal, bite, try to flee when touched by a human hand. This particular mouse, Chesslin had taken under control. Just touching the silky fur on its head reminded him of the vibrant thrumming of the strings of his magic. He could feel it, even now, attached to and contained in everything he touched. Those threads were even present in the air. Everything contained his power. His smile curled slightly wider at that - to a boy who had never had power over anything, it seemed too good to be anything but a dream.
Opening his hand, he let the dormouse scuttle up to perch on his shoulder. He looked back at Allen, ignoring the dormouse as it nibbled a strand of his brown hair. It was quiet, happy now that he had released it from its straw prison.
"I find it is difficult, here," Chesslin answered finally. "To branch out. There is not much opportunity in Shim for someone who does not make much money." The tiny smile vanished, with that thought. All his life, he'd had two choices - farm, or work with Morilyn. He would choose anything over becoming just another farmhand. Perhaps his elder brother was satisfied with that. Chesslin, in contrast, actually had ambition.
He was about to respond, when a faint scratching reached his ears. Distracted, Chesslin looked down under the counter, to a covered wicker basket tucked away in the shadows. This was the only thing in the shop that truly belonged to Chesslin. Everything else was Morilyn's, but this basket came back and forth with him from his farm house every day. Stooping slightly, shrinking his already tiny frame, he pulled the basket out and lifted the top away. He reached one thin hand through the gap and produced a simple dormouse.
Most of these creatures would skitter, squeal, bite, try to flee when touched by a human hand. This particular mouse, Chesslin had taken under control. Just touching the silky fur on its head reminded him of the vibrant thrumming of the strings of his magic. He could feel it, even now, attached to and contained in everything he touched. Those threads were even present in the air. Everything contained his power. His smile curled slightly wider at that - to a boy who had never had power over anything, it seemed too good to be anything but a dream.
Opening his hand, he let the dormouse scuttle up to perch on his shoulder. He looked back at Allen, ignoring the dormouse as it nibbled a strand of his brown hair. It was quiet, happy now that he had released it from its straw prison.
"I find it is difficult, here," Chesslin answered finally. "To branch out. There is not much opportunity in Shim for someone who does not make much money." The tiny smile vanished, with that thought. All his life, he'd had two choices - farm, or work with Morilyn. He would choose anything over becoming just another farmhand. Perhaps his elder brother was satisfied with that. Chesslin, in contrast, actually had ambition.
Re: It's your own fault, you know.
He watched the tight smile cross the lads and braced himself to be turned into a toad, for surely he had crossed a line. When all he did was crouch and stick a mouse on his shoulder and smile once more at the dwarf, Allen couldn't be any more relieved or confused. He stroked his beard, watching the mouse nibble on the lads hair.
"Aye, it is tricky tryin' to branch out in a Changer's forsaken town." Allen's voice gruffed. He contemplated the boy, his steel blue eyes drilling details into his mind. He had been working on a piece recently, a stone carving in an attempt to become more manly yet keep his feminine interests, not that he'd admit it. The boy was built well, pretty proportionate... his hand tugged on his beard thoughtfully. He'd make a decent model.
"Suppose you did want to branch out, boy. Suppose you had a chance to stay in Marn?" He was going out on a limb here, and he knew it. Allen wasn't a trusting dwarf by any means, hell he'd sooner spit in someone's hand before shaking it, but this boy had something about him that made Allen's chest-hair itch. It was an itch his father had claimed meant trouble. Allen always did have a nose for trouble...
"Aye, it is tricky tryin' to branch out in a Changer's forsaken town." Allen's voice gruffed. He contemplated the boy, his steel blue eyes drilling details into his mind. He had been working on a piece recently, a stone carving in an attempt to become more manly yet keep his feminine interests, not that he'd admit it. The boy was built well, pretty proportionate... his hand tugged on his beard thoughtfully. He'd make a decent model.
"Suppose you did want to branch out, boy. Suppose you had a chance to stay in Marn?" He was going out on a limb here, and he knew it. Allen wasn't a trusting dwarf by any means, hell he'd sooner spit in someone's hand before shaking it, but this boy had something about him that made Allen's chest-hair itch. It was an itch his father had claimed meant trouble. Allen always did have a nose for trouble...
Re: It's your own fault, you know.
In an instant, Chesslin morphed. He flowed from relaxed boredom to bright-eyed interest, focusing utterly on Allen. The mouse's little claws dug into his shoulders as it clambered around the trunk of his slim neck, but Chesslin ignored the small creatures. There were more important matters afoot than the energetic desires of his magic-bound pet.
"Marn?" he repeated curiously, but there was a note of caution in his voice. Chesslin's hopes had been lifted before, and dashed just as quickly. He would not raise his own expectations. He would not assume anything. He would not start making plans in his head to get out of this tiny town if there was still the chance that he was going to have to keep living here. Chesslin was no lover of disappointment. "I don't understand."
Curiosity drove Chesslin to forget his surroundings. It did not matter that he was an orphaned farm boy with only a few coins to his name, and only a brother to care for him. He did not care that he was wearing little better than a set of brown rags, a tunic he had owned for years, and which had been his brother's before him. This was a door that had been cracked, and if there was any way to open it, he was going to take that opportunity. Ulvir's objections be damned. Morilyn's warnings, too.
"Is there some way?" he asked, his voice still quiet, but more alive now. "What would I have to do?"
"Marn?" he repeated curiously, but there was a note of caution in his voice. Chesslin's hopes had been lifted before, and dashed just as quickly. He would not raise his own expectations. He would not assume anything. He would not start making plans in his head to get out of this tiny town if there was still the chance that he was going to have to keep living here. Chesslin was no lover of disappointment. "I don't understand."
Curiosity drove Chesslin to forget his surroundings. It did not matter that he was an orphaned farm boy with only a few coins to his name, and only a brother to care for him. He did not care that he was wearing little better than a set of brown rags, a tunic he had owned for years, and which had been his brother's before him. This was a door that had been cracked, and if there was any way to open it, he was going to take that opportunity. Ulvir's objections be damned. Morilyn's warnings, too.
"Is there some way?" he asked, his voice still quiet, but more alive now. "What would I have to do?"
Re: It's your own fault, you know.
Allen was startled by the change. It wasn't extreme by any means, but if that mouse was any indicator of his masters mood, which Allen had a very faint suspicion it was, then the boy was excited. So the country bumpkin wanted to see the big city eh? Allen played it the best way he could, as himself. Changers knew he'd lose a model acting the way his brothers and father did.
"Nothing illegal or whatever. Now don't laugh, but I'm an artist. I'm working on a painting of you leggy folks, call it an interest. If you don't mind decking out in fancy duds and standing a certain way for an hour here and there, I'll let you stay in my house. I got a studio and shit, board and whatnot would be included if you agreed. Nothing without clothes mind." At that Allen turned scarlet. "I'm not a f--. Bad enough I'm girly enough to like art."
Allen waited, watching, feeling tense. He hadn't meant to ask anyone, was just going to eye up some leggy barmaids. But this kid had something in him. Vaguely he recalled his father describing how diamonds would call to him in the mines. Like a song, or an itching in the back of his mind. For Allen, he was getting just that from this kid in front of him, but with the chest-hair itch of trouble. Changers, if this boy agreed, shit would get fun.
"Nothing illegal or whatever. Now don't laugh, but I'm an artist. I'm working on a painting of you leggy folks, call it an interest. If you don't mind decking out in fancy duds and standing a certain way for an hour here and there, I'll let you stay in my house. I got a studio and shit, board and whatnot would be included if you agreed. Nothing without clothes mind." At that Allen turned scarlet. "I'm not a f--. Bad enough I'm girly enough to like art."
Allen waited, watching, feeling tense. He hadn't meant to ask anyone, was just going to eye up some leggy barmaids. But this kid had something in him. Vaguely he recalled his father describing how diamonds would call to him in the mines. Like a song, or an itching in the back of his mind. For Allen, he was getting just that from this kid in front of him, but with the chest-hair itch of trouble. Changers, if this boy agreed, shit would get fun.
Re: It's your own fault, you know.
Chesslin knew what he should be doing, in this case. He should be considering carefully, looking at all of his options, considering the pros and cons of what the dwarf was offering. He should be going home to talk to Ulvir about this opportunity, if only to do it properly, because he knew what Ulvir would have to say and he knew he did not care. His older brother was going to have to let him go, someday, whether he wanted to admit it or not. Chesslin was more than ready to be cut loose from the overprotective farmer.
So he decided he was going to do exactly what he should not do. He was going to make his own decision, without asking the two other people really involved in his life. Modeling could not be so bad - Allen seemed the sort to keep to his word, and he had said quite firmly that Chesslin would be clothed while working. There would be food and clothing, and a roof over his head. Those had been Chesslin's main concerns in planning to head off to the city. He'd been saving his salary for that purpose, but there was no way he would have made it to Marn before he was nearing thirty years of age. This way was much better. This way, what money he had saved could go towards his real goal. Towards his magic.
"I'll go," he agreed, completely serious. This was the best opportunity he had yet to be presented with, and he knew it was probably the best chance he would ever receive. More than that, he liked Allen. He got the feeling that, at the very least, if he went with Allen he would not be living with someone he was constantly arguing with. "When do we leave?"
So he decided he was going to do exactly what he should not do. He was going to make his own decision, without asking the two other people really involved in his life. Modeling could not be so bad - Allen seemed the sort to keep to his word, and he had said quite firmly that Chesslin would be clothed while working. There would be food and clothing, and a roof over his head. Those had been Chesslin's main concerns in planning to head off to the city. He'd been saving his salary for that purpose, but there was no way he would have made it to Marn before he was nearing thirty years of age. This way was much better. This way, what money he had saved could go towards his real goal. Towards his magic.
"I'll go," he agreed, completely serious. This was the best opportunity he had yet to be presented with, and he knew it was probably the best chance he would ever receive. More than that, he liked Allen. He got the feeling that, at the very least, if he went with Allen he would not be living with someone he was constantly arguing with. "When do we leave?"