Strings of Fate

Odds and Ends

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STRINGS OF FATE

Part I: Odds and Ends

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    Almost everyone has a red string of fate. A little crimson string tied around their finger only a few inches long before it fades into thin air. Many don't meet their destined fates within a lifetime, rather choosing to unwind the string and weave a new destiny for themselves. Nothing is ever set in stone, that's for sure. But whether it was a curse or morbid curiosity, Steven couldn't decide.

    Everyone around him, that openly displayed their strings, always pointed towards the horizon or even within their area. Some aimed up to the mountains, some gestured down into the deep caverns below. But Steven's was an odd case. His went directly down, no matter the orientation, no matter how deep he was in a cave, it always pointed down. As in, straight down.

    He hid it well after the questions got annoying.

    He used a set of gloves commissioned from a person who honed their skill just for such a predicament: to suppress the magic of the red string of fate and tuck it away hiding it from view. The other string on his hand was left loud and open, that one was normal. It's faded end always gesturing towards the horizon.

    Steven ambled through the market. His pick bouncing on his side with every step and backpack light as he paid a visit to one of the blacksmiths. His emerald purse was heavier though. Strings of red, blue, green, pink, yellow, and many others trailing after people's hands as he was subconsciously attentive to their presence. Making note that many displayed the red most extravagantly as he passed.

The strings of fate don't always point to romantic love. There are hundreds of links for platonic, familial, poly... you name it. This greenish teal string, thick and healthy, jolted constantly. Mainly from the vicinity of his best friend, Alex, who was probably doing an obstacle course at the moment. That's where she said she was. Always jumping at the chance of exercising at the local training area, that one.

Stalls filled with curios and goods. One filled to the brim with painted clay pots of varying sizes. Another stocked with summer vegetables. Flies gathered and swarmed near livestock, harassing the people nearby with their buzzing. Children squealed in glee as the snow-cone man handed out the icy-sugar treat.

    Large drooping cloth panels stretched across the walkway of the bazaar-like street market. Shielding many of the personnel from the sun as they bartered or wares and dug through produce. People with aprons smudged with grime and dirt as they showed off tools and metals, the farmer in her straw hat weighing her harvest. Animals were led through the bustling crowd, chickens and children weaving between legs. The edges of dresses and pants dusted with the patted dirt of the path.

    The miner had his eyes caught on the wares of an explorer, selling her findings to anyone who approached and asked for the daring history and adventure of a particular item.

    Swords old and worn, polished for decoration, old treasure maps framed and set, vases and vessels, possibly the most jarring part of the selection was the vibrant color-changing Jeb sheep pelt that hung on the back wall of the stall. The godly magic still ran strong in the fibers as it filtered through the rainbow of colors.

    A flash of gold had redirected his attention as he drew near. It wasn't the gold as it was the small pendant, it's edges worn but polished to a shine. Steven approached this pendant with acute interest. It was strung on an equally weathered leather cord and tiny engravings covered the gold piece. The size of the pendant was no bigger than four centimeters in diameter.