PENUMBRA (how the flowers grow)

2. Dandelion

"wishes will be granted"

Tuluvey sits cross legged on the bench outside Dorethea's Bed and Breakfast, amicably making conversation with those that pass him, taking small bites of the fried apple pastry he swiped off a bakery rack earlier in the day. It's no longer warm, but it's sweet and fills his belly just fine. In the morning, he'll eat a proper meal. Tonight, he thinks he'll find someone beautiful to spend the night with.

He saunters into the common room and finds a table, finishing off his snack in a few big bites. He glances around the room to see if anyone catches his eye. Over in the far left corner, a fresh faced and rowdy group of travelers sit together with a heap of gold coins on the table. All of them are separating the coins out into their own piles, evenly splitting the loot five ways. The demon girl with the elegant curling horns groans and spreads her coins back out on the table.

"I lost count," she informs solemnly.

"Ugh," the rest of the table exclaims in sympathy.

Tuluvey smiles, remembering his own experiences with a new group. Just a fortnight ago he decided to part with L'gaoia's pack of vagabonds to do some solo adventuring. It was good for the first few days, but he's already grown bored of this and has half a mind to track down L'gaoia and the others.

Maybe they wouldn't oppose a sixth member until I do, Tuluvey considers.

He lightly touches the petunia that's resting above his pointed ear, grown out from messy curls of green hair. He ponders for a moment, then flicks his gaze over to a couple of cat shifts sat playing a game of cards near the center of the room. The one with the fashionable purple coat slaps a card down on the table and laughs, tail whipping behind their back in excitement. Their companion wrinkles their nose and reluctantly begins shuffling the cards again.

Tuluvey's attentions shift toward a woman wearing a long, flowing skirt decorated with many ruffles. She's leaning over with her hands on the table so that the patrons sitting there can surely see down her bodice, no doubt propositioning them. One of the women at the table is laughing. The man who the prostitute is focused on is beet red. Well, they're all going to be busy tonight. Tuluvey figures if he doesn't find anyone else, he'll ask to join them.

To his left, a human woman sits nursing a green baby. After a few moments, a full-blooded orc in all his orcish glory walks in and takes the empty seat beside her. Tuluvey figures there's a strong chance it would be a waste of time to try to get them into his bed tonight.

In the far right corner of the room, a woman sits alone, her jacket spread across her lap. She seems to be attempting to sew it up, but if the way she suddenly rips out all the stitches is any indicator, she's having some difficulty. Her face is soft, without pronounced cheekbones, and she lacks any bright colors or eye catching features. She doesn't carry any magical energy that he can sense from this far away.

Probably a human.

Tuluvey stands and goes and sits next to her, close enough to make her look up sharply, but far enough away that she relaxes immediately and goes back to fiddling with the clothing in her lap.

"Do you need some help with that?" Tuluvey offers.

The woman looks back up, looks at him, but doesn't quite meet his eyes. Her shoulders tense and her fingers tighten in the fabric.

"Oh, um-" The look on her face is taken aback and she probably was hoping no one would approach her if she went and found a corner to tuck herself into.