OLD ROSE | MID AFTERNOON
She’d thought to find a place warm to have a drink and loose the last few ha’pennies for a bit of bread and hingle, but the Black Dove refused to let her in. At least, for a while. The human had begun to form herself a bit of a reputation in the seasons she had been here, and the good folk of the taverns were loathe to loose any more furniture to her mouth. Given time, they would get over it, but for now, she was not welcome. Well, the Queen still wanted her, but not without a bit more ging.
And so, it was, the listless inked creature wandered without purpose looking for somewhere that might give her a brief stint to warm her toes by the fire. Shivering a little, she paused outside of the back of a quaint building, leaning against the brickwork and glancing up the street. Was it really worth the walk, knowing she wasn’t really going to find anything? Maybe if she piled everything she owned on the bed and stoked the fire, she could make a cocoon of warmth.
Shame she was out of rum.
Hugging herself, Lacey pressed herself against the brick work a little more bodily, suddenly realizing that it was warm. Not hot mind, but warmer than she’d expected it to be. Really, it should have been chilled. Lifting with a frown, the blonde tilted her head to look for a sign post, seeing nothing. Her curiosity peaked, and she moved away from the back to the store front, noticing that the warmth faded as she moved away. At the front, she still couldn’t see a sign, and without hesitation she pushed the door to go inside.
Curiosity might have killed the osta as they say, but Lacey hadn’t really understood that comment anyway.
Once inside the pirate stopped and looked around at the wooden interior. It was filled with clay built pots and tableware and all sorts of things that Lacey had seen and even used, but hadn’t actually considered where they had come from. Her eyes roamed the room slowly, not particularly interested in the wares, but attracted to the warmth that radiated within. If she pretended to care about the stuff inside the shop, there was a good chance she could hang around for a while.
“Oooh, that be pretty.” She muttered, reaching for a delicately sculpted bowl, dirty fingers wrapping around the glazed exterior and lifting it from the shelf. Turning it over in her hand, the human admired the handiwork even if she didn’t understand it.
“Could do with a…er…” A bowl? A container? What was it exactly, Lacey had no clocking idea. Turning it back, her fingers betrayed her and with a loud smash the bowl hit the hardwood floor and shattered into multiple pieces.
“Well shit.” The pirate winced, glancing at the unattended counter. It was actually pretty, and she would have bought it, had she been the buying type. Mostly she was planning on stealing it.
Turning her eyes on the shattered pottery, the pierced lady scowled darkly. The broken clay parts dragged vivid memories of the Lady's demise to the surface, the violent burst of magic from the vile Gioran she'd adopted, like some stray dog in the bay of Gior. Her best canon, her saving grace, the pride and joy of old Dragus himself had been turned to nothing but clay right at the heat of the battle. And like that, the Lady was broken and the day was lost. Suddenly the broken bowl was no longer pretty.
Time for a hasty exit, cold or no cold.