[First and Second Round Qualifier in ONC 2021; Second Round Ambassador Pick in ONC 2021; Second Round Qualifier in the Tricolor Triennial Awards 2021; Previously Featured in @adventure's More Fantastical Adventures list]
Cover by @NattKuznetsov
For...
Evening was settling in and a soft, soothing breeze blew through the marketplace, cooling the sweaty bodies of the sellers and the remaining dregs of buyers.
The old man had not sold anything since the scuffle. His usually precise movements (which never failed to surprise others) were lacking surety. The bundle of unsold radishes he was carrying to his cart kept dropping out of his arms. He deposited the ones he had managed to carry safely, cursing at the dropped ones as if they had tumbled down on their own. Picking them up, he threw them recklessly in the cart, murmuring to himself.
Lenor was watching the old man with eagle eyes, stroking his beard absently. He had half a mind to help out the old man, but his knowledge about the other's temper was thorough. He knew to offer him help would only earn him reproach so he stayed put, but the dilemma in his head would not dissolve.
He recalled the first memory he had of the old man, and turned away from the sight, resolution emerging on his countenance.
Asking his wife to keep the shop, he went in search for Nersal and Renae, determined to help the old man as well as he could.
* * *
Haggling had never been Renae's thing. While Nersal tried to extract a fair price for a dead pigeon, his older sister let her mind wander among the cottony clouds. Her eyes were fixed on the horizon where the golden glow of the sun was being eclipsed by a violet hue. She was not thinking of anything in particular, however. Her thoughts were scattered like the crowd in the marketplace.
The purposeful steps of Lenor broke her reverie and she looked up, her eyes meeting the man's. The latter's dropped first. It had been this way for some time now. No one dared stare into her eyes. Her papa claimed that this was a good thing but she was not sure if it was.
"Renae, Nersal," he said, raising his hand as a greeting.
"Lenor, what brought ya here? Want sum birds for tonight's supper?" Nersal asked, slipping into an easy camaraderie.
"No, it's yar old man," Lenor said gravely. "He's actin' all strangely."
A grim smile made its way to Nersal's lips. "Stranger than he always does?"
"Yes. He dropped his vegetables an' all."
At this, Renae bailed her post, her steps directed towards her papa, dread pounding in her head. She did not stop nor turn around to hear Nersal's reply, which was a mere shake of his head that loosened the shaggy brown curls upon his face.
"I'll go when I'm done." He turned his attention back to his sale, swatting the hair away from his face.
