Snippet #1930710

Laeliana Regnatos

Miniature fingers, those of guiless youth, were so lax upon her own that she swore he would become lost in the unfathomable numbers of a crowded street. One small collision with robust features could certainly put an end to her guided path. It would appear as though paling chestnut orbs aimlessly wandered the streets, and that her mind was neither here nor there. Simply, she could not comprehend why it was taking longer than usual to get to her shop. Soon enough, the soft pads of the boy's digits swept free of her hand, and all she could hear was the hastened duet of small feet scampering away. As he did, Jacob beckoned her to stay her place whilst he sought innocent drink at yet another vendor. This direction to her dwelling, and employ, was riddled with fascinating distractions. Voices rang through the air of merchant's sales, heralding supposed goods of rare designs and outlandish prices. Truth be told, many of the items found here are only guised as special to bloat a man's pocket. Liana was aware of this, but she needn't much to sustain her well-being. As though on a swivel, her head turned to and fro hoping to catch some sensory glimpse into where exactly she stood.

The woman, whom seemed as frail as rose petals; one touch, and all is left to die away, made the daft decision to go ahead. However, she knew nothing of the direction she faced, only that she had managed to turn her feet and shuffle from unease of being so out in the open. Daggerford was not fashioned in a way to ensure the survival, or innocence untainted, towards a mere girl of her phobic caliber. Each nearness of bodily warmth too close for her comfort made her bosom rise with a choking breath. Most of the time, Liana just held onto that small glint of hope. Hope had no longevity in a place like this. Through the infinite bleak of her sight, she knew that it was a carnivorous world out there. The plea that she was but a blind female was to run out of her reaped pile of excuses sooner or later. She thought that if she minded her own, she would find safety. It had worked thus far, but something gave her festering feeling that it would end. Just because she was blind, often wayward in her thoughts, or silent, did not mean that she was an ignorant fool. Blood ran hotly upon these grounds, and each passing day the scent grew hazardously thicker.

Her patience was small, expecially amongst the crowds of wolves, which caused her feet to liven in cautious animation. With woven basket in tow, she began to take the most careful and well thought steps. Or so, that is what she had so stupidly imagined. It was hard to feel that florid rush of embarrassment as her flesh, speckled in small bumps from the gelid air, found that of another. The other may look to her and scoff in irritance, but she would never know their face. That meant she could feel no shame of it. There were days where she could make her handicap seem flawless and easy, and then there were the times like today where she felt troubled by her missteps.

An emptied hand was lifted slightly, just above mid-belly, and she made the vain attempts at feeling out where she was heading. Fingers swept through naught but cool air, and by the time she was nearing someone, it was too late. The Bazaar was over-crowded this morning, which made it especially harder for the fair woman to make her way through. Every so often, more than she could stand, the sour and pungent odors of fermented fruit married with sordid breath assaulted her nostrils, forcing her nose to wrinkle in disgust. Unfortunately, such stimulants are loved by most of the citizens here. How could it not be? Even in the daylight did the darkness linger relentlessly, and sometimes the only way to excape it was to fill bellies with strong drinks and enjoy the relaxation of merry carousal. One never knows just when their life has seen the last rosey fingered dawn of the birthing day. It was best to enjoy the fine establishments catered to the needs of both men and women until one can do so no longer. Not her. Not ever. It was near impossible, despite the fact that she could quicker find a raunchy brothel or the cacophony of a tavern than her own silent and solitary home. All by the smell and sound of them, which is the reason for such assumptions.

With feet in planned gaits, few friendly and knowing voices found her ears in greeting along the way. Many came to see The Blind Apothecary, for she was quite skilled, even for a sight bereft human-being. Assassins were few, but the plagued and mared were many. Liana had opened her business to all, regardless of affiliation or motivations. That was how she kept a decent living, and her life. The fear was so strong a life within her that she wouldn't dare deny anyone of their wishes.