Anger riled within her. It was a twisted, vile feeling that had the young woman’s jaw clench. She supposed she should not have been surprised, business was business, and the stall before her in particular was known to boast exquisite wares, a hoggish attendant, and prices so high they gave the faux armourers a hard run for the title of ‘biggest rip-off’. ‘No, he’s worse than armourers’, she thought, justifying herself as the city’s celebrated library stocked at least seventy per cent of the books before, with the shelves of Tower’s Respite holding many themselves.
The man gave Sana another sideways look, a calculating gaze that lingered on the copper colouration of her hair and the dainty bracelet that ringed her wrist. She didn’t bother painting on a false smile this time, having already given the man such pleasantries when she initially came to booth, shortly, she wagered, after the fair woman a little away. There was a twist in man’s expression whenever his gaze fell on the other woman that had Sana seething, or rather, it was the way his expression shifted so drastically. The other woman asked something of the origins of the book she held, and the man responded with a deadpan drone of the price, as though so sure she couldn’t afford such a thing, her existence was negligible.
Another question was raised, this time the man did little more than stare forward, not even a falter in his airy, apathetic look. Sana edged closer to the woman, eyes catching the Nari lettering on the page she held so tenderly open. Sana then looked back up to the attendant, who snapped to attention. There was a slight curve to his lips, as though he was at least attempting a look of interest and competence, though nowhere near as such to actually ask if there was something concerning her.
"Excuse me," she said pointedly, a dash of anger flushing to her face, her olive eyes hard and piercing. "But I believe your customer is asking a question," her words were tight, and lips pressed into a firm line, her head tilting ever so slightly towards the other woman. The man’s brows furrowed and nose pinched, as though some foul odour had crossed his senses.
There was another short silence, the man's breath leaving him and not quick to return, the crease in his forehead only deepening. 'You're kidding me,' she thought, a foul look poisoning her own expression, 'He wasn't even listening'. "To be honest, I'm rather concerned," she began, her look like poison, arms folded. She paid much mind in keeping her voice quiet and body language soft, preferring not to make a show in a place such as the market, "But your refusal to answer a question on the origin of your own wares has me doubt their sanctity.” Sana had begun to get carried away, but she could scarcely help herself – the look of horror that crossed the man’s face was plenty enough to sate her anger.
“I beg your pardon?” The man began, alarm rising. "I don't know what you're-"
"Then why not answer such a simple question?"
"I wasn't listening- I mean I just-"
"Oh," Sana mused, a look of understanding crossing her expression, "So it was just your own incompetence, then?"
"Yes, I mean-No. Uh-"
She inwardly scolded herself for taking things so far, before shaking her head at the man, “Relax.” Her words were easy, and tone little different from normal. “I’ll let it slide,” she said, the quickness in which the man softened having her decide to go for one more punch. “This time, that is.”
The man stiffened once more and glared at the two of them, before the appearance of a jaded man some way to the right provided him with an excuse to move on, and Sana almost missed him when he was gone – realising that she may have very well pissed of the one she was so creatively trying to defend. That was, if one could even call pissing off a pretentious stall owner because he was so blatantly rude to someone ‘defending’ them. “Sorry,” she began, giving the woman a haphazard smile, before deciding she might as well start-off by answering the question the pig-man couldn’t. “That book, Nari is the language it’s written in, uh” she took in a sharp breath, completely aware of the awkward assembly of her words, “It looks like it’s about ‘Wind Reach’… or at least in that region.”
|
by T'ala on October 8th, 2013, 8:34 pm 
