Searching for just the right, cheap, fabric, had been a merciless time-eater this day. She felt like she had trotted the entirety of The Dives muddier than it already were, and at last she had found herself face to face with the colourful world of The Painted Ladies. Considering that she was looking for cheap but still resilient fabric, she had thought it easier to find in the dirtier nooks of Vienda, where the means of the seller getting it wouldn’t be questioned. And yet, here she stood, at her last resort, about to venture down the street of colourful bricks. For a moment she pondered trying out the vendors of Kingsway market, but shook the thought, knowing that might be riskier that trying to haggle down the price with a real shopkeeper. At least it haven’t rained…Yet.
As she slowly started walking, searching for any sign of a shop that could sell her what she needed, she gave herself a mental pat on the back for grabbing her cloak last second, before leaving this morning. Though it didn’t rain, the black dress wouldn’t have been enough for the cold winds that every now and then would grab a hold on her hair. She had let it hang loose except for two small braids, pulled back into a small bun on the back of her head. It always felt a little warmer on a cold day, letting the long rusty locks hang loose to cover the back of her ears and as an extra layer on top of the high neck of the dress.
Catching her own reflection coloured by various extravagant fabrics hidden behind windows, as she passed the first shop brought her back to reality. For a second the sight of only colourful, light materials, catered towards the galdori, made her consider just not getting fabric for a second cloak. Made her consider dealing with the smell of wet spine wolf and accept her fate ruining her expensive cloak. Her memoir of a life not too good, but heaven considering what the life of poverty had brought upon her. No, she hissed internally at herself, You have saved on everything you could to get this poxy fabric, and now you’re going to get it. Whatever it takes.
She came to a halt as her reflection stared back at her, this time coloured by an array of different materials and even some earthly tones. Woven delights. Her gaze wandered from the hand-painted sign, to the stained cherrywood. It did seem expensive. But maybe, just maybe, she would be lucky this time. She didn’t pray anymore, but if she had been, now would have been the time. She approached the door with caution, as if the shopkeeper would come jumping out any time and ripping the little coin she had from her pouch. She pushed open the door, and a small bell made sure to tell on her. So much for wanting to browse with out eyes on her back.