Trader's Market Old Rose Harbor
on the 6th of Intas, 2719 Afternoon
Ketziana had settled into Old Rose Harbor much better than she would have ever expected. She still felt the pressure of having to pay off Gauthier’s massive debt and she still dealt with days where the depression threatened to swallow her but, strangely, she most often felt free. The fact that her family wasn't there, judging her to be incompetent simply because she was a passive felt like a weight off her shoulders. She woke up every morning, feeling like she could breathe for the first time since she had tested as a passive.
It never stopped feeling amazing.
Ketzi had started tentatively reaching out to people, helping her neighbors and occasionally even going to a bar, though she never drank anything outside of seltzer. She had learned after Clock’s Eve that having a hangover would be a great way to start the day behind. She had only had a couple glasses of beer, but she had lost almost a whole day’s worth of work and, after that, had sworn off all alcohol.
Since she didn't mind the bitter cold as much as some of her neighbors -- in fact, it often felt like home -- she had started running errands for them on Market Day if they needed them. After wrapping herself in the light coat, mittens, and scarf that many people had told her was not nearly enough for the “bitterly cold” winter, she headed over to Mrs. Landingham’s apartment, the neighbor that most needed her help.
Mrs. Landingham was one of Ketzi’s first customers, an elderly human who had needed to buy her daughter a simple dinner set for her wedding. Ketzi was still adjusting to being around so many humans, but Mrs. Landingham was as sweet as punch and she found that she slid into a friendship with the woman, despite the woman’s race. She just couldn’t help it.
With the winter being as cold as it was, Mrs. Landingham had difficulty going out. At her age, the icy weather was dangerous and, when Mrs. Landingham had come in for a teapot after her dog knocked hers off the table, Ketzi had eagerly offered to do her shopping for her so she could stay safe. Mrs. Landingham tried to convince Ketzi it wasn’t necessary, but Ketzi knew that the woman’s daughter had moved to Vienda after the wedding and Mrs. Landingham didn’t have anyone to check on her.
So, on every sixth, Ketzi made her way to the old woman’s apartment, checking in on her and getting the shopping list for what the woman would need.
She hummed to herself as she entered Mrs. Landingham’s apartment building, waving to the people she knew. When she finally stood outside Mrs. Landingham’s door, she knocked, announcing herself and then bracing herself as she opened the door.
A loud deep-throated barking started and a massive dog ran towards Ketzi, placing its front paws on her shoulders and bathing her face with its tongue. Mrs. Landingham said that the dog was a Hoxian mastiff, but Ketzi would have sworn it was half horse, just because of the dog’s size. She came up to Ketzi’s chest when standing on all fours and, when she decided to jump up, her front legs easily went over Ketzi’s shoulders. Every damn time Ketzi came over, she had to struggle to keep from being bowled over. She had no idea how Mrs. Landingham, who was a good 6” shorter than Ketzi’s 5’11”, managed to stay upright when the dog decided to jump on her.
“Dammit, Bitsy, how many times do I have to tell you to not jump up on people?” Mrs. Landingham laughed as she got up from her table. “Afternoon, Ketziana,” she said as Ketzi dug a ham bone that had been stewed nearly to death out of her pocket and threw it into the living room. Bitsy barked once and then bounded off after it, happy to have the treat. Mrs. Landingham was still spry for her age and, by the time Ketzi had dealt with the dog, she was close enough to the door that she could offer a damp washcloth to Ketzi so that she could wipe the dog’s saliva off her face.
Ketzi took the washcloth gratefully and smiled after she was done wiping her face. “I’m telling you, Ettie, that dog’s going to get you evicted when it tries to drown the wrong person,” she laughed.
“Psh. You know as well as I do that everyone here loves that dog. We ain’t been robbed since I moved in because Bitsy scares everyone off. Don’t you, girl?” the old woman said as she stopped to dig her knobby fingers into Bitsy’s mass of fur, scratching her for a moment before heading to the kitchen to check her bread.
Ketzi shook her head and laughed. “If you say so. Have you managed to get your list ready?” she asked as she sat at the table.
“I have! I just need to add one more thing and I’ll be ready. Dinner should be done by the time you’ve done all the shopping,” Mrs. Landingham said as she hobbled back to the table. The woman insisted that Ketzi eat with her at the end of Market Day and, to be honest, Ketzi didn’t mind. It was an improvement on eating dinner alone in her apartment while Beatrix tried to steal from her plate.
Mrs. Landingham wrote one last thing on the shopping list and handed it to Ketzi, along with a coin purse to pay for the food. “You tell Freddie I want one of the fresh leg bones this time. Bitsy’s fur is getting a bit dry and she needs the marrow,” she said as she patted Ketzi’s hand.
Ketzi gave the massive dog a side-eye, fairly certain that the dog could stand to lose some fur. Whenever Ketzi petted her, her hand went wrist-deep into the fur. But she knew Mrs. Landingham worried about the dog, so she didn’t make a comment as she looked over the list.
She frowned as she noticed that the only protein was beans, making a note to “forget” a wheel of cheese in the woman’s groceries when she came back. Mrs. Landingham had been forced to retire from her job at a watch maker’s when her eyes got too bad to manage the fine work. While she quickly started advertising that she’d take care of people’s children, she was slow to gather clients. Ketzi suspected that Bitsy scared off a lot of clients, but she’d be damned if she was going to suggest the elderly woman get rid of her dog. Her neighbors had all quickly started letting her take care of their kids, but she made just enough to pay rent.
There were just too many people in Mrs. Landingham’s position.
After a few more minutes of discussion, Ketzi picked up Mrs. Landingham’s shopping basket and then headed out. She made her way to Trader’s Market, stepping into a few smaller shops on her way to pick up the more expensive goods her profits allowed her. She picked up a couple savory hand pies at a bakery, along with a “doggy cupcake” to throw for Bitsy when she went back to Mrs. Landingham’s apartment. Hopefully she would be fast enough throwing the cupcake that she could avoid being drowned in drool.
Once Ketzi made her way to the market, she quickly made her way around it. She was a creature of habit, so she knew where everything she and Mrs. Landingham needed was found. She was browsing the fruit preserves, looking for the blackberry preserves that reminded her of summers at home when someone spoke to her.
She blinked, then turned to the man, taking him in quickly. His looks and field quickly labeled him as a galdor, and she arched a single pale eyebrow as she saw his snap. She had been in Old Rose long enough to know that most of the Seventen in town were corrupt, but this one’s snap was still bright and shiny, so Ketzi assumed he was new in town. He was almost as tall as she was, which was unusual for an Anaxi galdor.
“Let me guess. Your passive’s sick,” she chuckled, her voice friendly as she turned back to the shelf and finally found the preserves she wanted. She dropped it into her basket where a much smaller jar of apple butter for Mrs. Landingham already rested. She then turned back to the galdor, taking a couple steps and reaching past him to grab a jar of pickles.
“Well, first off, what type of meat do you like? We can head to Freddie’s butchery and, on the way, we can stop at Magdalena’s produce. I suspect you probably don’t want to eat the half-rotted stuff that Landon sometimes sells,” Ketzi said, shaking her head. Mrs. Landingham always made a note for Ketzi to pick up the produce from Landon’s stall, but the passive refused to shop there on principle. She didn’t mind covering the few scraps’ difference between the prices if it meant that Mrs. Landingham wasn’t going to have to eat bread and water at the end of the week because all her vegetables had been reduced to maggot-covered slime.
“I can pick up the rest of what I need on the way if you don’t mind me ducking into stalls as we go along,” the tall, pale passive said as she switched the basket to her right hand, holding her dominant hand out to the galdor. “I’m Ketziana, but everyone calls me Ketzi. Nice to meet you.”