Arandolya The only limit is the Stars . . . Timestamp: Winter 85, 512 AV Arandolya hummed quietly to herself as she walked towards the Stained Glass Gallery. Although today she went to browse the skills of the Inarta, it was not just stained glass she would be looking at. Market Day was today, and it was one of the grandest affairs that every woman, man, and the well behaved child looked forward to. Though she often went to browse the wares, and search for perhaps the odd nick-nack to litter her room with, today Arandolya went with a determined purpose. She carried her shortbow without its string, as that was her reason for visiting today. Though the bow was well, the string was beginning to wear around the nocking point. Worried it might give during a hunt, Arandolya went today to see if one might be available for purchase. "Greetings, Derdain," Arandolya hailed as she approached. The man turned a cool eye to her after passing a couple Endal through and twitched an eyebrow slightly. "What are you seeing today?" he asked in his rumbling voice that could have impersonated thunder better than thunder could itself. "I'm going to Bulls Eye," she stated, raising the unstrung bow she carried with her. Derdain studied her for a moment and then jerked his head in the movement that let her pass. Arandolya nodded and walked into the lively market. The air immediately engulfed her senses, and sound was almost unbearable as it rushed over her. Arandolya breathed in the scent of spice and food that made her hungry even though she'd already eaten. The woman paused to appreciate the sense of joy that permeated the very air she inhaled before walking towards the third ring where she suspected Bulls Eye would be located. Arandolya had to wait for a few Endal to take their turns with Vincent, which seemed to take almost a bell. She fiddled with her bow for a few moments, rocking on her heels, and even wandering off to look at other things. Eventually though, the stall was open, and Arandolya seized her chance before another Endal strode over and society persuaded her to let them go first. "Good afternoon, Vincent," Arandolya said with a friendly smile to the old man who studied both her and bow. "That's quite the old bow you've got there, Avora," he commented, outstretching a hand to see it. "String break?" "Not yet, though it appears it might soon," Arandolya responded, looking at the wares he displayed. Vincent didn't just have bows, though they were beautiful enough to catch the eye, he also had everything you needed to be an archer; arrows, wrist guards, clothes to rub down the wood with, to protect the string ... what did this man not have? Arandolya only hoped he would have some bow string that might be for purchase, and would suit the Yew wood. Vincent traced his hand down the bow, bringing it up to his eye, turning it over in the light. She wondered what he was looking for, but said nothing, feeling invasive at the thought of breaking the concentration he had. "It is well made, that is for sure. It is getting old though, and I doubt the snap is quite like it used to be," Vincent finally said as he turned his intelligent gaze back to the young woman. "I would suggest purchasing a new bow," he added. Arandolya frowned at the thought, taking the bow to run her hand along its curve. "Ah, your first bow?" he asked, smiling. "My mother's, she gave it to me when I was apprenticed," Arandolya explained quietly. Vincent fell silent for a moment, and touched Arandolya's hand where it rested across the wood. "I would suggest buying a cheaper string, and keeping the bow for memories. If you plan on making a job out of hunting, a new bow should be in order. How long has this one lasted?" ". . . Possibly more than ten years, though it has only been in regular use for about seven," Arandolya said after she thought for a moment. Vincent nodded and shrugged. "I think it is time for a new one." Arandolya shifted uncomfortably for a moment, staring at the wood of the bow she'd been using for so long. To feel the string pull back, and the wood spring with her shots, to know her mother had used it the same way many years ago . . . it made her feel connected to the Avora mother she never fully knew. The woman knew Vincent was right though, and she would hate herself if it broke. "Better it preserve it now, than when it is in two," she sighed. Vincent grinned. "Alright, let's find the perfect one for you." Vincent guided Arandolya through a strength assessment, seemingly pleased with the results. He handed one bow to Arandolya only to have her pull the string, and he would snatch it back with an exclamation it wasn't the right one. She even tried a longbow just to please him, though both of them knew she felt awkward and clumsy with the bow that was almost as big as she was. Only when Arandolya had wrapped her hands around a composite shortbow of laminated elm did both of them smile. The draw weight seemed a bit heavier than what she was used to, though Arandolya knew she would adjust with a bit of practice. Waving away the offer at arrows, Arandolya inquired about some protective cloth for the bowstring. "What would the total be?" she asked, looking at the bow, old bow strung with cheap hemp, and simple protective cloth. "Let's say ... 78 pinions?" Arandolya nodded and reached into her much depleted stores of money. If the season went well she would be able to gain her wages and replenish it. "You're welcome to test it quickly before you leave." A few others had gathered behind her as they waited for the patient attention of Vincent, though Arandolya nodded. As he lent her a blunt practice arrow, Arandolya drew the string with a huff and sighted along its length. She obviously did not release though, instead just relaxing her bow arm to undo the tension in the string, and smiled. "Thank you so much, it feels fantastic." With new bow, her old, and a cloth in hand, Arandolya turned away from the stall when a sudden call from behind made her turn. "Sorry, were you talking to me?" |