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Snippet #1929598

located in The Bazaars, a part of Daggerford, one of the many universes on RPG.

The Bazaars

The south and north bazaars of Daggerford - undoubtedly the busiest place in all the city. Here you will find everything you need...maybe...

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Laeliana Regnatos
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The ephemeral sheet of night was cast aside by a new virgin morn. The heavenly beyond held a dismal sheen, and sweeping gales ghosted across the Southern Bazaar with blood and wickedness beneath their wings. Daggerford, for as long as the fair-haired Apothecary spend dwelling in its silent carnage, was but a frail creature tucked ever so dangerously within a land of great chaos. However she remained as an unwatched phantom, she could not fathom. Perhaps it was by the stroke of luck that she was unscathed by the surrounding loose moral of Assassins, and other depraved souls. If there was ever true neutrality left here, it was in remnants, and of those who saw no truth from the pools of spilt blood.

A small smile stretched across the pallor softness of her facet, as she was moved sweetly by each wakened day. Truth, sight had not fallen in blessed hue unto her, instead, Liana gazed into the cold cruel abyssal depths of nothingness. Yet she could feel the fresh beading of morning dew on her skin, and the fragrances of a rising day remedied her most profound fears. Phobias she had by the plenty, as each new day brought many a horrors to be seen or heard. There was nothing magnificent about the dainty doe, only that she had managed to walk amongst the streets in safety and comfort. So few were the days that brought her adversity, at the most, perhaps a stolen remedy or two. Of course, that was not cause for panicked concern. Life was cherished, even by the most weak of creatures, and she would like to keep her own in tact.

People, in bountiful numbers, began to stretch and yawn to waking, and filtered from their homes into the wretched field of the ominous unknown. Liana was one of them, shrouded in a meager satin gown; roped belt at her slender waist. A threat could hardly be seen in regards to the female, so maybe that was why she moved without turning heads. Pale hair spiraled down the length of her back in an unkempt frivolity, unfettered and careless. Feet softly pattered against shadow laden veins of the Bazaar as she used swift senses to guide her. Not inhuman, no, but senses that naturally became augmented when there was a lack in a pertinent area. Occasionally, a small rounded shoulder brushed against another, but not a soul paid in attention.

The routes were known to her quite well, and she, more often than not, would drift down the same path each morning. In the beginning, she took herself into the places that danger was far more abundant, but none would mangle a youthful blind lady. That was, by far, her only comfort. It would be pleasant to have svelte tendrils curled about her tapping stick, however, it had been so haplessly misplaced. The Apothecary knew when she was growing closer to her quaint shop; a lively bouquet of fresh fruit fleeting towards her nose. She always stopped there to get her hands on fruit swollen with sweet juices. There were not many pleasantries that she could dapple in, so she was a fairly simple women moved by all-too mundane things. Liana was a lone soul, untouched and unwanted, and that she knew with no dark shade of shame to spoil her easy persona.

A pivot of her heel sent her towards the direction of the stand, and the man that employed it chuckled, and with hearty vocals, "Liana, sweet lady, I already have you a basket woven and filled." Her cheeks flushed in a florid hue, and fluffed with the widen of her smile. When he held the basket up, and she got close enough, he grasped her smooth and spindly fingers to wrap them gently against the handle. Raking eyes over her as she settled her full hand down by her side, he quirked a brow, "Where is your walking stick?" That halo of light gold shook with subtlety, and with a soft whimper of a voice, "I fear it misplaced. I can be, at times, so daftly minded."

The male's vocals tremored like a wrathful thunder, "Jacob!" A small boy scurried to his side, and the vendor parted him with a stern order, "See to it that Liana stays her feet towards the path of her shop." Then he grew softer towards the fragile woman at his front, "Such a ray of sunlight would easily be swallowed by these devious streets." With that, she uttered her most heartfelt gratitude towards his generosity, and the boy's small hand snaked about her fingers. It was at that moment in which she would be led towards her quiet employ by Jacob. He was small, and perhaps no older than twelve at the most. Gently, he pulled her at her own pace through the slowly bustling throngs of the Bazaar with no words, just a knowing direction.