Painted Ladies - Vienda
10/03/2719 ~ Late afternoon
he woman’s everlasting smile faltered for a single moment when she heard Nymeria’s growl and made Nymeria’s lips knit closely together. The flickering smile had almost been a warning, a plead not to say anything more. Therefore, she didn’t. She stood still and watched her work her way through the wool with her hands.
His loud voice was most certainly not a request but an order, and Nymeria stood without turning towards him. She knew what kind of emotions were painted on her face right now, and after, what she had thought to be, that warning, she didn’t want to risk anything. It had reminded her that her temper would not only cause problems for her. It would cost the woman greatly too.
The woman darted to him with an apologetic smile on her face directed in Nymeria’s direction. She followed her with her eyes, until they finally landed at the galdor once again. This time in a cold, but expressionless manner. She looked at him, noticed how he’s never look at the shopkeeper’s kind face. The way he seemed to always be eating something sour. She wanted him to choke.
The shopkeeper kept up her polite act, probably keeping herself more in check than Nymeria ever had. Now she knew. She knew that this was the woman’s way of surviving. And she couldn’t blame her. What hadn’t she, herself, done to stay alive? But then the galdor barked out a comment about the store being dirty, almost as if it wasn’t him dragging dirt around. The anger at the galdor made her heart pump, and she grabbed hold of the counter to keep herself steady. Just as she turned her face away, turned to look at wool, she heard the shopkeeper apologise. Her breath getting stuck in her throat, her teeth in her lip. But she said nothing. She was here for wool, not getting neither herself nor others murdered or imprisoned.
The shopkeeper made her way over to the counter, just as the galdors voice once again cracked the silence in the shop. “You call this vermillion silk?”
. She grabbed ther counter with the other hand. "I could find better on Hollow Street. The color is the worst I've seen."
. The woman apologised, again, and Nymeria almost snapped for her breath. She knew she had a problem with her temper, but this woman was otherworldly. Not once had she let the ethereal act slip. Not once had she batted an eyelash. Was she brave? Was she clever? Was she scared?
Nymeria turned to look at her, never letting her vision revisit the galdor. She knew her temper would get the best of her if she’d let it. She heard the sound first, and then she saw the slight jerk of the woman. The first noticeable slip of her pretence. She didn’t have to look at him when he discarded the bolt of fabric on the floor. She didn’t even have to guess. Her fingertips turned white with the pressure from her anger, and her body were shaking ever so slightly. Not enough for the galdor to notice, but enough that you would be able to feel it if you grabbed her.