The Marketplace

(See map for Full Layout)
The Market Place, the bustling center of commerce between Saravya and all it's allies. Blacksmiths, Herb markets, small animals, anything that can be sold or traded, imported or exported, it can be found here and made to order. Shops line the street that circles two large vender tents. Near the back corner is the Trading gate, where close allies bring their trade goods in caravans in order to trade with the venders of the market in a highly guarded area. If one can get out into this area, one may have access to low cost stock items straight from the countries in which they are from.

After purchasing two fiery curried rice bowls (one with meat, of course), Caelia made her way through the market place all the way down to the healer's tent, which was conveniently located near the Fiery Red Head and the Trading Gates. There, she picked out her favorite bench and sat with Kiba panting happily by her side. Apparently the smell of food had perked him up, and before Caelia could unwrap both of the rice bowls, the big lug had already snatched his away and began literally wolfing it down. "My, my...someone's greedy today," Caelia remarked, clucking her tongue at Kiba, who raised his head with a wolfy grin plastered on his muzzle before chowing down happily again. Not that she could blame the poor guy. After a long journey back home from visiting friends, she herself was famished and quickly dove into her food with almost as must gusto as Kiba had.

Caelia loved sitting on this bench during her breaks because it was near the center of the marketplace where people were bustling about, buying this and that from the wide variety of goods available. From here she could observe people without being noticed too much. Across the way from the bench was one of the other healers purchasing a piece of fruit from the vendor there. She turned and waved to Caelia cheerfully. "It's good to see you back safely!" the woman called to her. "I'm glad to be back!" Caelia answered wiping a bit of vegetable from the corner of her mouth. The other healer then made her way over to a group of girls who seemed to be waiting for her. Caelia just sighed as she watched them walk away happily, giggling and talking together. She would have loved to join them, but her painfully shy demeanor made it hard for her to blend in with other females her age. Not that she fared any better with the males...but she was happy spending time with her dearest Kiba.

Once the rice bowls were emptied and the remains were discarded, Caelia returned to their bench and gave Kiba a pat on the head. "Feel better, now?" she asked. Kiba yipped happily in response. The wolf didn't really understand what the woman was saying, but over time the two had learned to read each other's body language. They each could tell when the other was happy or sad just by looking, and right now the wolf could tell that his friend was not feeling well. He nuzzled her hand and tilted his head with a knowing look. Caelia just smiled back at him and petted his head once more. "I'll be alright, Kiba. I just feel...lonely." He huffed as if to say, But you have me. The young healer laughed. "Yes, but...oh...I don't know how to explain it..." she faltered, "Do you ever wish you could be with others of your kind, Kiba?" The wolf just sighed and rested his head on her lap as she continued to pet the jet black fur.

The intricate patterns her little pup maneuvered himself along dazed her like always; as if he were dancing to a melody only he could hear. And yet, she could trace those little steps by the rhythm they leaped to, and she too could hear the ghost of a melody, plucked from her mind like violin strings. If these sturdy streets where the ample waves of sand her bare toes were used to, she would have already started to move along with Minku. But they were not, and she was not alone this night. A man as sturdy as the streets she graced was at her side, leading her through unknown territory. And so she followed along in quiet fascination, fingertips drumming upon the cloth of his arm faintly to her familiar's steps. Quiet giggles kissed her lips as the strong military men took interest. Seeing such hard-edged men softened by his charms was a sight indeed; when she thought about it, though, it made sense. "Attitude mirrors leadership, I suppose..." Her words were a soft murmur, and her eyes trailed over the sites in front of her, a distant glimmer behind the cobalt hues. Perhaps her mental twin had gotten too caught up over the years in this simple idea, that her mother, practically their mother, had so frequently repeated. Attitude mirrors leadership. Shurik himself had been loyal to a man inadequate of leading Saravya so many years before. Suspicion was natural for Sotay, as long as it followed logic.

"I know very little of you, Shurik; your upbringing is a mystery. I've heard stories of how you overthrew a king you used to serve. I can see your men, the way you've raised them from the old ashes of Saravya, and I can see kindness under their war-torn scales. I don't know you, but my eyes are not completely weighed by my age. My brother, however, cannot see what I see this very moment..." And she knew, just as she always had, that the trust she placed among strangers superseded Sotay's by far. He had been betrayed in the worst ways possible, and he was far too damaged for her to completely fix. Micah's family had been murdered by unfamiliar hands, right before her own eyes, and yet she stretched herself with no remorse. After her family's death, water possessed her completely. She was flooded to the soul by its liquid flow, and with this peaceful immersion she had adapted to a new chain of thoughts, of morals. A chain that would allow her to flow like trickling trails of water, to change form when obstacles arose, one that could seep into the cracks of the earth and heal from the inside, peacefully. Maybe this idea was what compelled her never to give up on the earth, on her brother, or on life; she would continue to heal as best she could, and when she could no longer heal, she would embrace, and sooth, and share her knowledge, just like water.

As soon as her little pup was placed back into the confines of her silver-lit arms, the thick veil of thought began to slip away, like bed sheets sliding from skin. Her gaze fallen away from their surroundings for a few short minutes, and in that time, he had lead her to a new place. Dim lights glittered in the depths of their confines as they came back to life, and lifted to meet his own violet gaze. His fingers lifted, pointed, and she followed in a daze. The colorful tents, the bustling stands with equally active Saravyans; they shocked her into silence, accented only by a gasp. And just like that, the inner child hidden behind her maturing confines resurfaced. She leaped forward with little thought, bounding herself into the little maze of the market place. Everywhere she turned, new faces and dazzling graces painted her view with multi-colored lights. Strange smells tickled her nose, a whirlwind of sound elapsed her ears, and her skin was ablaze with the soul of Saravya. "Shurik, its wonderful!" Her bare toes padded along the cobblestones with carefree skips and twirls. Minku wriggled in her grasp, asking permission to be put down; but she shook her head for the moment, whirling once more to face the king she had fallen a few steps ahead of. "Do you think he'll get stepped on? It seems busy here, but he seems so antsy to dance..." She couldn't tell whether she was talking about Minku or herself at this point. She assumed he could see how restless she grew by the new sites. She could hear a sweet tune humming from violin strings, which propelled her even more into her fluidly modest movements. She wondered if he would deem her improper for her childish desire to dance in a place such as this. But that violin sounded so sweet, and it pulled at the strings of her soul in a way normally only her flute could...

The stretching buildings full to the brim with people buying, selling and tradings their goods with one another. Interaction that told many things about one man and what he was about. Shurik knew little about the matters of finance, and little more about the running of a store in such a densely populated area. But the thought of such actions intrigued him greatly. Even interactions between the people in general, as they bustled around the area, looking for that perfect store that sold just what the wanted, brought a large smile to his face when he imagined the happiness it brought. Wandering eyes, finding so many things to look upon in this one area always seemed to turn back to the young woman at his side, her child-like gaze darting around the densely packed streets like it was something never before seen. Her mouth looked as if it hung slightly agape with wonder and his own mouth upturned into a grin as he watched with glee her actions.

She spoke, that velvet voice once more gracing the canals of his ears as every drop of liquid gold that poured from her lips was held within his mind like a precious commodity. And with a smile he obliged her with an answer, that rough, calm voice, resounding boldly like the stone around them lathering the air with its tone. "My past is not of much concern at this point. I was not born within the limits of this great city, but it has been ages since I have seen my home village. My duties keep me far away and I nary the time to take a visit." A little white lie, the sound of that seeming a little off-putting for his normal character, but it was something he had to do for this point in time. The truth was far more detrimental to his self emotion than selling her a small fib on his current relations with that small town.

He would keep himself a mystery to her, feeling it would make their time together more interesting if she did not find out everything about him all at once. He certainly didn't need to convey his entire history to her, she knew the main points of it and he was content with that part of his story being known. The king who drove out a tyrant and freed a people, that seemed much easier to handle than the outcast dragoon who was deserted by his home village and left for dead after the drakes tore him limb from limb.

His mind wandered in that moment, his eyes glazing over as he stared off into space, looking at nothing in particular. He barely noticed the fact that her cooler figure was no longer standing next to his until her voice once more called him back to the real world. He snapped back to attention, his eyes closing and opening, refocusing his view upon the woman, now a few steps ahead of him, his eyes widening slightly in joy and his body becoming a little bit more upright as he tried to play off his little episode and probable loss of consciousnesses as nothing. Their foot steps carried them left of the bustle, off the more crowded paths as they made their way towards the end of the line. He watched her, the movements that flowed like the water she was born in, moving, malleable, like nothing could stop her without her just reforming through it. He enjoyed this happiness he saw within her and when she asked about the pup's safety he chuckled with amusement, nodding lightly. "It's less populated on these paths than on the main, he should be fine."

Such a sweet woman, wise beyond the years presented by her stature and her personality. Yet she continued to keep that personality. Where most would have reformed, a complete change from such childish things to more serious endevours, she adjusted them to her own being and made them into a part of her. He pointed, a sign sticking out further than the rest of the buildings, lit up by strange rocks that glowed when heated, a sign he knew well. "We're only heading just down the way. One of Saravya's more... interesting attractions." He continued to walk, seeing if she would once again join him in the stroll, or continue her dancing. The soft look in his eyes, the coy little smile he gave her as he walked by, he found all her actions to be cute. Her carefree nature only added so much more to her character than she knew.

His violet gaze upon her was startlingly warm as her skin-clad feet pounced over the cobblestone floors. It filled her with a faint satisfaction, one she knew might be misplaced; and still she continued to trickle through the streets, secretly peaking back at him under the fringe of her ivory bangs. That heavy, stable voice caressed her ears like a warm blanket, and when it dipped into a tone unfamiliar to her ears, she knew not to prod anymore. The vacant glaze slipping across his face whispered to her, murmuring softly, "Its best not to continue this conversation, it will end with unease." And so she buried the curiosity into the depths of her throat, continuing her stifled dance through the streets; watching him all the while. She had seen many people with that same, vacant face before, and every time she cursed herself for an ability she did not have. She wished, as she looked upon those distant eyes, that she could see what lies behind them. Men where not animals, though, and so she could not hear the thoughts that trailed through their minds like burning threads of fire. Still, she cursed herself for the inability to do so. 'If only Halsey had granted me the ultimate grace of soothing ones' soul, as well as water could...'

As they strode through the streets and drank in the attractions, a faint smile tugged at the corner of her pale-pink lips. The blazing lamps lining the market cast fiery streams about them, gleaming against the silk charcoal wraps that bound her. Those lamps were another element that added to the charms of this night; a great deal of the time she buried herself within the depths of Siram's cool waters. It had been a while since she had danced among the nightlights in the sky, a while since she had felt so warm and welcome in a place other than her own home. She wondered, briefly, if this was the same feeling all woman had in the company of Saravya's flames. Or maybe it was Shurik himself who ruffled the little bird caged within her chest, and allowed its wings to flutter as they did so now. An odd thought tickled the brim of her thoughts, one Micah couldn't remember herself having before. 'I wonder how many women have shared his company like I have now... How many women had the privileged of touching his warm skin, tracing those moonlit scars...' And though she hadn't caught herself, her lips had parted, sighing the last few words in a very quiet breath. No matter what brilliant display surrounded them at any given time, her eyes always seemed to wander back to his... which were no longer the vacant mask he had been overcome with. They were full once more with life, and they caressed her face with great amusement, it seemed. The cherry sheen deepened only slightly over her cheeks.

She was only slightly aware of herself dipping toward the ground and releasing a very antsy Minku once more; her attention was captivated for the moment by his figure in the fire lights. He was a tall man, compared to her 5"4 height, and his blond hair cast a glow about his face from within the dark night. The smile curling his lips was enough to pull her back to him, and soon her steps, dancing through the darkness, brought her back to his side. Micah giggled, softly; eyes upturned by his. She hadn't the need to look at the sign his finger directed her towards. She had heard stories by now of Saravya's main attraction, the Fiery Red Head. In fact, many of the nights her guardians had spent after training sessions lead to the telling of its tales; many of Siram's men had began to frequent the blazing bar after its resurrection, despite the distance they had to travel in order to get there. The idea of visiting the place of wild tales she heard so frequently about, both scared and excited her. One of the frequent story themes that graced her ears spoke of men chasing pretty women about in a frenzy of muscle and flesh. What would happen if the little princess of tides visited this bar? Would the men, too, chase her cool beauty? Or perhaps they were more into the burning desires of their own women. This train of thought twisted her face into a peculiar expression, and as they stepped closer and closer to the blazing sign, her nerves jumped like static sparks. Tucking her lower lip securely within the confines of her ivory teeth, the deep pools of blue caressed his face once more with a nervous questioning. And slowly, their footfall fell silent; she paused when they finally reached the entrance of the bar, searching his face for any amusement he might find in her hesitation. Many questions wracked her brain, but the only words she could think to let slip, came in a muffled breath. "I won't get lost in here, right?"

Such loveliness was unheard of, such grace on her feet caused him to just watch and admire the movement. Everything seemed more peaceful around her and the burning heat became a cooling sensation whenever she moved, like she had brought a cooling wave of air through the entirety of the kingdom. It washed over him like a blanket, bringing him solace in such a hot world. It was nothing for the small princess of tides to dance about with her companion, unknown by most of the Saravya as the little girl who had crowned their king.

But he walked with such strong posture, creating an atmosphere that almost marked the opposite of her own. Power, fire, all burned through his flesh like he was the flame itself. The one thing that made him truly a warrior and a man, more king, in his beloved Saravya. He walked, he watched, he listened, and he even threw glanced at people who watched the young princess move through the market place, a burning wonder in their eyes as he chuckled and waved to them, their reassured waved returned to him as he gave them a bow of his head. Even more interesting was the little fox pup that moved with the woman like it was human itself. He watched the animal and chuckled under his breath, noticing with every twirl and twist, the small Minku was right there, moving with her in perfect time. 'Such a strange bond with an animal.'

But they finally reached the door, the entrance to the tavern of tales. He had noticed that many of the soldiers of other countries frequented the bar, known for the loud music that even now pulsed through the door with such fire, and the women who adorned its seating, the fiery hearts of Saravyan women sometimes proved too much for even the soldiers of Saravya to handle. He sometimes wondered how the other warriors faired, even noting that some of these other men might leave with more than just their old battle scars to brag about, but a whole new set of marks and stories embedded in their flesh.

He looked at her, questioning her question as he chuckled. "My dearest Princess, I am sure you will find yourself right at home. If you get lost, all you have to do is shout my name and I will be there for you." His hand placed on the handle of the door, his eyes looking at her as he flashed her that smile. "I hope you are ready for this. This place can be a bit fast paced for first timers." He slipped his other arm around her, keeping her in an embrace as they took that first step and opened the door, entering the Redhead.

-Next Post In The Fiery Red Head Forum-

“Catch her! Don't let that little tramp get away!”

The sounds of shifting leather and heavy weaponry jangling from their sheathes was an almost comical cacophony if you weren't the one they were chasing. Ahead of them, running far ahead in a dead sprint was one Sesema, a fourteen year old girl born, raised, then orphaned within the slums. The only thing she had on her was an old longsword which clanked quietly in the makeshift sheath that housed it slung across her back. The jacket she wore whipped behind her as she slid, twisted, and bounced through the crowds with a mixture of fury and terror upon her ghostly pale visage.

“What in all of Daratan could I have done to be chased like this?!” She exclaimed to herself, not daring to pause to look where she was going. Instead, she had looked back and only slowed down to check where they had gone... only to find that they weren't where they were. Weren't they behind her? Sesema found herself now slowing to a halt as she continued to scan the crowd, her bright blues flicking this way and that. When she found that they weren't in sight, she began to panic. Hyperventilation gripped tightly at her chest as it heaved more and more, vision tunneling as her body quaked. She couldn't stay here. She couldn't. It'd be ludicrous.

Now, Sesema's feet quickly spirited her off to the nearest alleyway. It was littered with garbage and containers for them, which was perfectly fine for her since she could use it. Sesema slowly turned and began to draw the longsword from her back, the sheath clacking quietly from the way the longsword knocked against the wood thanks to her trembling fingers. Where were they?! How could she have been so stupid to let them out of sight?! This situation was downright dirty. How was she going to get out of this one? Once the longsword was completely drawn, she gripped it in a reversed hold and held it up so the bladed edge was away from her and the hilt was near her left shoulder. Her other hand was loose and trembling behind the hilt and near her chest, her breath still coming in heaves.

A sudden hard, bruising grip snatched the girl up and shoved her straight forward, sending her body careening up the alley and the longsword out of her hand. Now she was disarmed and found her in a situation she really didn't believe she'd survive. The man who picked her up snorted as he kicked her longsword behind his posse and drew two heavy, thick meat cleavers of daggers. The others stood by with crude axes and claymores at the ready. The man who stalked towards her though could only be described as disgusting in the most vile manner.

The man smelled like old ale from the twenty feet that was between them, and the leather armor that he wore was scuffed and patched in so many places that it was practically just rags. His arms were thick bands of muscles that rippled and waved under tanned flesh – definitely outsiders – and his gray beard had given way to a general age. It was no wonder the man relied on strength. If he could crush his opponent, then why waste time with acrobatics? Besides, his grip was like steel bars. There was no way to escape them.

What was the worst though were the cleavers. They were rusted and jagged and more than likely blunt by the way the edge had caught light. But by how jagged the edge was and the man's demeanor, it didn't seem like he minded the blunt edge at all. In fact, he more or less relished in the fact that he had to butcher his victims and leave behind shreds and scraps. But why her? Why today? Sesema was already running on empty after the past day of not eating. She hadn't been able to get any kind of money to fend for herself and stealing food was practically impossible nowadays. How was she going to defend herself?

The man laughed and suddenly nearly bolted forward, leaving Sesema to scamper backwards on all fours, defenseless to the upcoming onslaught. The right cleaver whistled downward and it was only a matter of luck that Sessa had rolled quickly enough to her left to get away. The cleaver dug deep into the cave's floor from the force of the blow, and he had no problems with digging it out. Sesema quickly scurried her way towards the nearest garbage container and hopped onto it, and if it wasn't for the next man who knocked the unstable container from under her with a hard heave of his foot, she would've been able to hop up to a nearby ledge and escape, but instead she found herself falling backwards and scraping her back hard upon the cavern floor. Still, even though a yelp of pain escaped her lips, she forced herself to roll backwards to avoid the ax which came crashing down towards her abdomen.

“W-what do you want from me?!” she sputtered, chest heaving and body shaking. She was becoming weak quickly. Her vision was starting to swim and her head felt light. Not to mention the shaking she felt in her knees.

“Isn't it obvious?” The man with the cleavers said as he paced forward, his posse surrounding her. “We need you dead.”

It took a minute for it to register... What did they say? Dead? But why her? Wasn't things bad enough?She had been born into poverty, abandoned, and fight practically every day since to just see the next day. Not to mention she was homeless and had no real place to sleep. Sesema felt the wall press against her back and gulped hard, eyes wild as she watched the men move in. To her right, though, looked to be a weak spot; One of the men had a moderate limp in his gait, which seemed more natural to him. Was it a long standing wound? Maybe a broken bone that didn't heal properly? Either way, Sesema had to keep up her facade. She pressed herself tighter to the wall as they drew nearer and waited, counting down in her head.

Five...

Four...

Three..

Two...

One...

Just as they all began to swing down with their axes and cleavers, Sesema shoved hard off the wall and, with the last bit of her strength, slammed her heel into the man's right ankle. As she suspected, the limp was an older wound that gave away easily and the man toppled. Unfortunately for the man to his right, his swing was interrupted with an ax to the chest that automatically took him down. Her run was slower, her breath heavy and her body shaking, but she reached her sword in time to grasp it before tripping over her feet and rolling. In the most ungraceful manner, she collected herself and raised her sword just in time to be knocked down again. The slam to the sword had jolted her hand when the vibration carried to the hilt and sent a shock of pain throughout her arm. Another yelp escaped her with a pained whimper as she continued to scoot backwards, trying to come to her feet and raise the sword again. This time, though, she forced herself to clutch it with one hand over the other and continued to back up until she felt wood this time.

...Wood? It was a long-shot, and if she did it, it'd probably be far too risky, but what choice did she have? The makeshift building structure behind her was only eight feet tall, and the wood was more than dry, very heavy, and a perfect candidate for what she would have to do. So she did the only thing she could. With a quick motion, Sesema let her left hand relinquish her right and snagged the support beam for the makeshift structure and, by heating up her hand to a high temperature, caught the support on fire and pulled herself up it before scurrying up and onto the building top above her. The support gave way and toppled over, not only crushing the men in its path but also severely burning whoever was trying to crawl out. She knew she was safe for now, so as the leader began to curse and flee, Sesema simply curled up and laid on her side, shivering and squeezing her eyes shut.

“How much longer does this have to last...?” she whispered to herself, her eyes squeezing shut as she did her best to ignore the scrapes and aches that she felt. “Make it stop or make it better – I don't even care anymore!!”