[Closed] To Where The Wind Blows

[Su'yina Liae]

🙐 Black Dove Tavern / Old Rose Harbor

on the 25th of intas, 2720, during the evening.

The bright chatter of noise could already be heard from a few meters out. The raucous laughter from the bar, seemed to permeate the early evening air as it leaked out of a nearby tavern attracts the attention of the street goers flitting by. A few people stop to take a second of contemplation, before heading inside to the inviting atmosphere. A chilly breeze whips down the street, sending tossed snow-soaked newspaper flying along with white flakes. The season of Intas’ sharp wind continues to blow about, urging those on the streets to quicken their pace into the bar or home. The smoky smell of roasted meats only serves as another layer of enticement to the brightly lit and warm building. Another bout of cheers resounds out a carelessly opened window as the tinkling sound of a lute plinks.

Soft steps clicked against the icy cobblestones as Su’yina paused in front of the back door of the tavern. Her nose was red from the wind and the amount of sniffling she had done the moment she left her father’s humble spice shop for today’s last delivery. As much as she dislikes the idea of being out in this harsh chill, there had been no other choice. Her father was too…delicate for this. At least, in her mind he is. The tsat’s hands, numb from the wind stung with each smack she delivered to the closed door. “Spice delivery! Open ‘er up!” she shouted. Her voice was half-swallowed by another rip of wind down the alley. The witch sneezed as she smacked the door one more time. “Delivery!”

The door was opened and before the staff could utter a single syllable, the brunette had pushed her way in. “It’s so bloody cold.” She complained. A snort echoed and a second later, she felt the weight from her other arm lift. Watching the boy about her age hold the bag, the witch narrowed her eyes. “Ah yeah, that’s for the kitch’, ya have the rest of the payment?” she toddled after him, past the storage room and into the kitchen. A man with a nick on his chin waved at them both. “’ere.” A small sack of coin was tossed Su’yina’s way. With a huff, she counted its content before giving the cook a nod. Her face broke into a grin. “Aight, see you next week then Erik!” Her finger snagged a slice of bread off a plate passing by– “And thanks for the snack!” With a peel of laughter, the tsat sped out of the kitchen. Now that she was done with work, there was fun to be had! Which meant-

“Time to watch drunk people.” That was always guaranteed entertainment. With her snack in hand, the tsat made her way towards the center of the noise and wondered what kind of amusement would welcome her today. And entertainment she found, in the form of a small crowd around a colorful table. Squirreling her way around the group, the tsat made out a semi-familiar face, one she had seen around the spice shop a few times, at the head of the table. Now, what was she doing here? It had been a bit since she had seen the older girl around.

[Aziza]

Intas 25, 2720 • Evening
Black Dove Tavern

“... ent good ne bad t’see the Lightbearer, but y’ent th’only one to think of her as good,” Aziza corrected her customer, taking another appreciative drag of the cigarette that had been rolled for her. The witch wasn’t sure exactly what was in it—it had been given to her—although she wouldn’t have been surprised if there was more than one tobacco variant in it along with the cannabis. There was something almost spicy about it, her nose having originally registered a scent like cinnamon, but her sense of smell had long since dulled, and regardless of what it was, she was enjoying it.

”Really? I’ve always thought the Lady was a good’un. She’s one of the best ones you can get!” the young tsat argued, peering down at the silhouette figure on the final card in the 10-card spread, which formed the tip of the inverted pyramid.

“Best? This a game o’ Rooks? Ne, ye want ol’ Murph for that, kov,” she teased, jerking a thumb in the direction of the card game in progress, earning laughter from her audience, some of which were this man’s friends, and it wasn’t all kind either. “J’member ye asked me to do the readin’, oes? Am I doin’ tha’ or are ye gonna take it from ‘ere?”

His sallow cheeks flushed as he flopped back in his chair, shoulders hunching forward—a sulking youth.

“I din’t mean nothin’ by it, I jus’ thought- ne’ermind, go on.”

The Mug balanced her cigarette at the edge of the ceramic dish that served as an ashtray, adjusting it when the lit tip threatened to smother in the pile of ash. She tapped the card in question.

Tap, tap, tap.

“Ah sure, I get what yer sayin’. When the Lightbearer—the Lady, whatever—is up, it’s more chance o’ being good as not,” she conceded, continuing to jab the image with her finger, not always coming down in the same spot as the digit swayed a little, “but if t’were t’other way, it woul’n’t ne’ssa’ily be bad.”

She shrugged, pressing the back of her hand briefly to her lips to wipe the spittle that threatened to go flying if she tried to say something as sibilant as ‘necessarily’ again. The spur was returned to her lips a moment later for another drag, before weaving through the air as she gestured. Anyone seeing her might wonder just how much she’d had to smoke—or to drink for that matter, considering the foamy dregs in the mug beside her.

“We know ye’ve got some treach’rous ground ‘head ye—we’ve all problems an’ we ken ‘bout yers—but ent shame in ‘ceptin’ help, lettin’ others guide yer path. But ken this! Pay attention. If ye follow someone else’s light, yer less like to see what’s ‘round ye, blind yerself. The Lady can guide ye, but yer mung if ye follow blind. Ent her fault—nor an’one else’s—if ye go astray or run into trouble. Can’t ‘spect her to live yer life for ye, ye ken?”

There were nods around the table, her words considered wise ones by many there although her customer seemed less enthused, frowning down at the array of cards on top of the oft-patched tablecloth.

“So… do I follow others this year or am I better going it alone?” the tsat asked Aziza, his gaze hopping from one card to the next in the spread for the year, possibly weighing up everything else she’d said over the course of the reading.

“Hulali’s tits! Ye din’t go far alone, kov. Ye take help when ye need it, but ye keep yer wits ‘bout ye, y’hear? Keep some independence- Vrunta!”—the witch had tried to stub out her cigarette but had missed and jabbed the tablecloth instead—“yer more’n big nuff to make yer own choices now.”

He was younger than her, scarcely out of his teens, but the idea of being an adult seemed new to him—these tsats seemed to take their time growing up. His expression had grown particularly morose, even if he did seem to have taken on board everything that she’d said.

“Dint be down in the yap! Ent like I said ye’ll be dry into the Deep Spring by morn or summat,” she reassured him, slapping him on the hand in a well-meaning way with a jingling of bracelets.

Before he rose, he surreptitiously passed her two scraps by way of a tip. The witch didn’t need to look at them to know what they were, simply sliding them into the pouch at her waist and hearing a reassuring clink as they joined the rest of her money.

She went to stand up and found herself plonking back down again almost immediately as the world tilted alarmingly.

Got up too fast is all, she told herself, gripping the edge of the table as she waited for her equilibrium to right itself. Someone would get another drink for her if she asked, she didn’t need to get up to fetch one herself. Besides, there was sure to be someone interested in engaging her services now that the mopey tsat youth had departed.

Running her hand over her braids, the witch smiled broadly as she peered at those gathered around her, some familiar and some not so familiar, some wick and some-

“Junta!” she called out as she found a familiar brunette among the crowd, brought into view as someone taller moved away in the direction of the bar.

The young woman was one she’d seen often enough in the spice shop where she’d gone to get many of the ingredients needed for her mother’s treatments—not that she needed those anymore with Nazia in the water these two days— but she hadn’t ever had much cause to talk to her and hadn’t seen her for awhile, not having been to her father’s shop for supplies.

“C’mere! Far’ye?”

She beckoned her near with a wiggle of fingers, registering the wind-chilled look of her face even through the dreamy haze that had been the state of her vision for some time now.

“It’s Su, ent it? D’ye want one too?” she asked, picking up her mug to wave it at someone to get her more of the same, tilting it towards the spicer’s daughter as she spoke.

“Just in, are’ye? Fit to freeze the spit in yer yap so ‘tis.”

[Su'yina Liae]

🙐 Black Dove Tavern / Old Rose Harbor

on the 25th of intas, 2720, during the evening.

Her cheeks were as round as a squirrel as she nibbled on her roll. Su’yina took stock of the table, the people on the opposite ends, and made herself more comfortable against a makeshift chair as she listened. She had been right, though it was hard to be wrong when it came to spotting this customer of theirs even if her visits had tapered off. It was not often that she saw or interacted with someone of Muraba decent as her father had told her; far as the land is away from here. But this was a port city in the end, and they had their fair share of visitors. If it were not for her looks, Suyina mused she would have been able to recognize the way the other girl spoke. It was distinct, rather hard to understand at first but with each passing not-quite-conversation at the store, she did manage to glean more.

Su’yina was not a particularly quick study when it came down to dialects, verbiage, and even grammar. Even now, talking to Yazad sometimes made her head spin. At the very least as time went by, she was getting better and gleaning the context and that was exactly what she was doing as she took stock of the cards upon the table, the expression of the youth, and the information Aziza -if she recalled correctly- was giving out. Viciously chewing on yet another bite, the tsat leaned forward waiting for a show if there be any in the way the boy was growing more disgruntled with the explanation.

Her mild interest in the other’s expression flitted away a moment later when she realized exactly what the other was doing. She had only ever seen this done briefly on the streets when she was too busy to stop by and listen. She took a step closer, squeezing herself between two kovs before stopping. What was this called again? The name escaped her like many other things and the young tsat was left feeling mildly frustrated at her lack of understanding of things that she should know. She was also a wick and she knew well enough that these are the arts she should know but…here she was ignorant to it all. It was not hard for the young girl to feel out of place in her skin when it boiled down to it. She was grateful, for her father, but there were things he could teach her but could not. She was already blessed enough to be able to learn a few paltry tricks here and there. Particularly one that involved storing things in her sleeve.

On that note, Su’yina pulled out a small pack of candies as she popped one into her mouth. She peered at the other witch and did not deny that she felt a stab of envy to her and her roots and her knowledge. The sticky feeling lasted naught but a moment before it was replaced by something a bit more productive. The fleeting thought of learning this, from the other witch herself. Su’yina snorted to herself, that sounded easier said than done. This kind of art would take time, and even if she were insatiably curious as to what was going on and how this all worked, she would be assed to bother someone else with her…desires. As Aziza was wrapping up, the tsat was about to make herself politely scarce. Just as she was to go onto her way to view the next table who had broke out into loud cheers over an arm-wrestling competition.

Weaving her way past the dispersing crowd, Su’yina gave the other an enthusiastic wave. “Nah, not tonight!” Not on this half-empty stomach of hers anyhow. The last time she drank when she was like this, it had taken just under three mugs to render her silly. Hop on top of a bar and sing kind of silly. “Want some of these though?” She shook her humble tin of mints and waved the other half of her bread. “And ya, dropped off an order here and came in to have some fun—then saw what ye were doing…” and now she had the chance to ask!

“Just what were ya doing?”

[Aziza]

Intas 25, 2720 • Evening
Black Dove Tavern

She had been a spectator, observing Aziza and eating candies. It wasn’t unlike those people who stopped to observe a show on the street, munching away on wares provided by opportunistic street vendors. It seemed that Su’yina had brought her own as if anticipating a spectacle. The Mug supposed that the other witch had found one although she hadn’t been trying for theatrics, simply presenting things in a natural fashion—from her perspective anyway. She didn’t think of herself as being melodramatic, albeit anything she came out with usually had a certain colour to it, especially when she wanted to avoid telling an unpleasant truth and had to wrap it in so many tricky words that it made it difficult to see to the heart of the matter.

When Su’yina dropped into the offered seat beside her, refusing the offer of drink, the spoke shrugged and spread her hands to show her bemusement, but she didn’t make any comment about it. She didn’t have to understand the other’s decision not to consume alcohol, simply accept it. Perhaps the spicer’s daughter thought her own behaviour peculiar as she turned down the returned offer.

“Ne, I ent one for tha’ sort of thing—bu’ thanks,” she declined the candies politely, leaning an arm on the table as she angled herself more towards her companion. “Ye’re finished yer work fer t’night then, oes? ‘Spose this is as good a place as any t’have some fun. ‘Spose it depends what ye’re after.”

The Mug witch didn’t say it but she doubted that they had the same idea of fun, given that she was having candy instead of beer. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she cocked her head, regarding the girl skeptically.

“What was I doin’?” she echoed, blinking rapidly as her brown eyes widened. She laughed then, shaking her head. Aziza really had to remember that not everyone had her kind of background. What was common knowledge to her wasn’t necessarily that for others, especially tsats—and possibly vice versa. Still, she wouldn’t have thought it a rarity, and even if you didn’t know how to do it yourself, people did come seeking their fortunes. It was the main means through which she made her way through life and the fact that she had had more than one customer tonight showed that it worked for her.

The young woman had to wonder what the tsat did with herself when she wasn’t working.

“Wo chet! Ent y’ever seen cards read afore?” the witch questioned, squinting at Su as if expecting her to reveal that it had been a joke after all. “Well, ‘spose there’s more’n one way ta clean a kenser’s ears! Maybe ye’ve had yer palm read or someone’s scattered stones fer ye? Ye use ‘em fer findin’ out yer lot, yer fortune. Some of it’s potential—tha’s a lot o’ what yer palms say, an’ I can do tha’ too—but some of it’s th’ future. N’ years hence, ye chen, an’ even then, it’s ne set, more… guidance.”

Her brows pulled together, brown eyes turning up as if she was trying to see the wrinkles that had formed. This wasn’t something that she had to explain all that often and it was made far more difficult by her current lack of sobriety. To add to the issue, the wick who had gone to refill her mug had returned and her contemplation was interrupted as she accepted it eagerly.

“Mujo mujo ma! I’ve a real thirst on me!” Aziza confided as she took a hearty gulp, sighing appreciatively. She set the mug down, its contents already noticeably dipped once more.

“Wha’ was I sayin’? Oh oes! Fortunes, cards! Oes, th’ cards are jus’ another way ta help ye make sense o’ what’s ta come. How ye should get on with things. Ent never known a chip or kov ‘oo reads ‘em th’ same, nor a deck tha’s exac’ly ‘like neither.”

She gathered her cards back together, cut the deck and fanned it, intending to pick one to show the image to her companion. Instead, when she went to pull one out, she tugged a bunch of them free and sent the rectangles scattering every which way before her, some facing upwards so that their pictures were visible: a circle with ten lines; a wick man half in shadow, a smirk on his face and a constellation superimposed over him; the silhouette of a woman with a lantern in hand.

“Vrunta! Floodin’ slipp’ry things!” she cursed, moving to gather them back into a messy stack, fingers struggling with the worn edges.

[Su'yina Liae]

🙐 Black Dove Tavern / Old Rose Harbor

on the 25th of intas, 2720, during the evening.

Su bobbed her head, another piece of sugar plopped into her mouth before a loud snap popped to life as she bit into the confection. The tsat nodded her head, smile pulling her lips upwards even as she began to stretch. “Yea, I came here to do my last delivery and decided to see if anything fun was going on.” Sometimes there were people crazy enough or perhaps to be more accurate drunk enough to dance on tables. Sometimes there was a brawl she could spy from the corner, and sometimes, like today, there were little shows, blips of entertainment coming from those looking for a few spare coins. But other than Aziza little show, the tavern was about as exciting as a passed-out drunkard. Dull and sleep inducing.

She popped in another candy just as Aziza started to laugh. Normally warm eyes were flinty as they glared at Aziza for all but a minute. The tsat eventually heaved a dramatic sigh. Her brown hair flowed behind her as she shook her head. She knew where she stood when it came to her knowledge on anything related to wicks. She grew up, far away from what many would deem ‘traditional’ for people like her. But this life was what her father knew and what he could give her. Did not mean she did not have moments where she felt out of place, like an interloper amongst all the bodies that filled this harbor. Those kinds of maudlin thoughts never dragged her down, however. To Su’ in the end, everyone was merely a sack of meat, blood, and bones; ones that were soon enough returned to the ground, what they were while they lived mattered very little with that kind of thinking.

She huffed. “In passing. My father sells spices, not fortune, so he ain’t gonna be the one that’s teaching me.” The tsat snorted, her hand waved idly as she made vague gestured. “And palm reading? Only once but they weren’t a wick if ya wanna know.” A scammer that had been, she gave him a good beating with a rolled-up piece of newspaper that day. She’d show ‘em if they lied. “Stones, no. There was a woman from my last place who used sticks, but she would not do me a reading. Told me I was too young.” The snort she gave was loud. “Then again I was only a few seasons old.” She popped her chin into her hand. The other one, now free from her candy pouch was raised.

It stayed that way even as a dark brow quirked upwards at the hefty swig of beer. She could never understand people’s desire to drink themselves into a stupor. Not being able to think clearly nor move well, unnerved her more than anything. It did not help that liquor tasted like utter shit on her tongue. How people stomached it was quite unfathomable.

The spicer’s daughter laughed, awed. “I don’t get how y’all do that.” More than just a sip had been taken if she were to trust her eyes. Hazel eyes tracked the movement of Aziza’s hand, any other words she had, dying on her lips as she tried to keep up. Even if the other was tipsy, she was quite adept in handling her cards. Leaning forward, the tsat’s lips parted with a noise of sharp confusion. It seemed she had thought to soon on the other’s nimbleness as the cards went flying. She did not bother to hide the teasing laughter in her voice. “Now what does this tell me about my future.” Her own fingers moved to push back the cards that had found its way onto her side of the table.