Post by Ophelia Harrington on Jul 7, 2016 16:21:08 GMT -5
Troubled, that’s what he’d called her – troubled. It was true but she wasn’t likely to admit it to the likes of him. “I sir, am not trouble, I am a Bard – we are a dramatic folk! We have to be to tell our stories, and sell our songs properly!” Slim arms were crossed over her chest as Ophelia stood glaring at the merchant who was trying to charge her much more than usual for the materials she’d used to fix her costumes.
The striking white costume of her youth had long since been cast aside; now she was dressed in blacks, charcoals and sometimes, there was a spattering of red in a veil, or a shimmer of purple in her skirts. It was the skirts that were often damaged the most, sometimes her exuberance managed to get the better of her and they were ripped, trodden on or spoiled by wine. “You told me 30 gold pieces for the red, and 20 for the purple – why now, when I am set to pay, are you quoting so much more?” She had, had a hard time of it as late, all the hard work she’d done to build her name years ago didn’t matter anymore. The times had changed, her stage-name was but a whisper on the winds and, to be honest she was glad of it but that meant she wasn’t afforded the same luxuries she had once had, and she tended to stay away from the kingdoms that she knew he would be in.
Ophelia caught herself drifting away from the conversation and back to the merchant, who was still repeating the same thing over and over again. “The price has gone up because of the amount of time it took me to find what you needed! It doesn’t come cheap, and I had to pay the ships in advance!” It could have been the truth, Ophelia had no idea. “Fine.” She muttered, before dipping into her shallow purse. It was all that she had left, after buying presents for the children, of course. “Next time though…” She was going to have to find a new merchant, one that she could entice to give her cheaper rates – if she could still muster the power she’d once, that was.
Ophelia shook her head from side to side, and paid the gold before taking the materials off his hands. Little was said after the exchange, and she whirled around on her foot to stalk off. “I should have just continued with my training!” She exhaled the word with a sigh but that would not have allowed her to hide from her life, and who she had become. No longer was she the fabled Spellsinger, no… now she was just Ophelia and she wasn’t quite sure who Ophelia was, or who she could be.
These thoughts took her mind away from where she was, so much so she didn’t see anything in the busy and bustling market street apart from her feet, which was what she was looking at when she careened into another person. It took her all her effort not to fall over, spilling her expensive and newly purchased materials. “I’m so sorry!” She exclaimed, before tugging the linens to her breast and skidding out of the way. The man bustled but didn’t say anything beyond a: “Watch where you’re going next time!”
The striking white costume of her youth had long since been cast aside; now she was dressed in blacks, charcoals and sometimes, there was a spattering of red in a veil, or a shimmer of purple in her skirts. It was the skirts that were often damaged the most, sometimes her exuberance managed to get the better of her and they were ripped, trodden on or spoiled by wine. “You told me 30 gold pieces for the red, and 20 for the purple – why now, when I am set to pay, are you quoting so much more?” She had, had a hard time of it as late, all the hard work she’d done to build her name years ago didn’t matter anymore. The times had changed, her stage-name was but a whisper on the winds and, to be honest she was glad of it but that meant she wasn’t afforded the same luxuries she had once had, and she tended to stay away from the kingdoms that she knew he would be in.
Ophelia caught herself drifting away from the conversation and back to the merchant, who was still repeating the same thing over and over again. “The price has gone up because of the amount of time it took me to find what you needed! It doesn’t come cheap, and I had to pay the ships in advance!” It could have been the truth, Ophelia had no idea. “Fine.” She muttered, before dipping into her shallow purse. It was all that she had left, after buying presents for the children, of course. “Next time though…” She was going to have to find a new merchant, one that she could entice to give her cheaper rates – if she could still muster the power she’d once, that was.
Ophelia shook her head from side to side, and paid the gold before taking the materials off his hands. Little was said after the exchange, and she whirled around on her foot to stalk off. “I should have just continued with my training!” She exhaled the word with a sigh but that would not have allowed her to hide from her life, and who she had become. No longer was she the fabled Spellsinger, no… now she was just Ophelia and she wasn’t quite sure who Ophelia was, or who she could be.
These thoughts took her mind away from where she was, so much so she didn’t see anything in the busy and bustling market street apart from her feet, which was what she was looking at when she careened into another person. It took her all her effort not to fall over, spilling her expensive and newly purchased materials. “I’m so sorry!” She exclaimed, before tugging the linens to her breast and skidding out of the way. The man bustled but didn’t say anything beyond a: “Watch where you’re going next time!”
