late morning
Mirian walked unhurriedly through the Sunset Quarter. She wasn’t exactly going slowly, per se, but neither was she going quickly; the goose in her arms would put up far too much of a fuss if she went at even a jog, and so a walk it had to be.
She was doing her best to hide the creature; the Sunset Quarters were poor, yes––that was part of the reason they were so safe––but those that were poor would also find themselves hungry more often than not. The goose Mirian carried was fat and healthy, and there were plenty of people in the Sunset district that wouldn’t think twice about killing her for it.
She had done her best to escape the danger by wrapping the goose up in her cloak, but a fierce snap of the beak had kept her from trying to wrap up its head, which remained free and in the open. Mirian had instead taken her shawl and wrapped enough of it around her head that the excess could dangle just over the goose’s skull and neck, which seemed open enough for the thing to tolerate. It also served to obscure her face, so that she couldn’t be recognized; the last thing she wanted was a neighbor getting it into their head that she had more money than living a few blocks down from the Orphanage would suggest.
The same Orphanage that happened to be her destination, in fact.
Although she wasn’t sure what exactly the eating schedule was for the place, she was fairly sure that breakfast had already passed. It was possible that they didn’t partake in a formal midday meal, although it was just a possible that they did, but it seemed a bit early for it either way, anyway. She was hoping that she could catch the Orphanage staff––and Noven in particular––at an in-between time so she could be rid of the bird in her arms.
Her good fortune the two days earlier had left Mirian at ease for the moment. She had enough to live comfortably for quite a while, and then plenty more besides, but even so she had quickly found herself uncomfortable with the money. She didn’t like having so many coins in her possession; the advantages of wealth were many––as a thief, that was one of the core concepts that her world revolved around––but liquid money was easy to steal, and it left her with a horrible knot of worry in her throat whenever she was away from the house, no matter how well she hid it. She had even taken to splitting the sum up and squirreling it away in different parts of the room, but nothing alleviated her tension unless she was physically there to guard it.
She had quickly decided that liquid money was too volatile to keep for long, and she had found herself trying to be rid of it. Not all at once, of course, and not without cause; she wasn’t going to spend money like that for the sole purpose of spending it, but she just… wasn’t trying to save it. She used it as she wished for material comforts and items, consciously refusing to pinch mizas and letting the full sum gradually become less and less.
And part of that lessening of money had come in the form of a rather unexpected show of charity for the children that she had only just recently risked a great deal to save from slavers.
Mirian didn’t go to the front door of the Orphanage––she couldn’t remember a time she’d ever used the front door––and instead made her way around the building, through an alley where she’d once been nearly caught by a man willing to kill her over a sack of apples, and from there her path took her to the smaller, rougher back door that she knew led to the kitchens.
Once at the door, of course, she realized that she couldn’t exactly knock with a goose in her arms.
The halfbreed looked at the animal, which honked once as her shawl was thrown in its face. Back at the door. Back at the goose.
How was she going to do this?
Frowning to herself, Mirian took a deep breath, hefted to goose a bit higher to give herself room, and kicked at the wood. Once. Twice. Three times. It would probably sound a bit heavier than a normal knocking of a fist, but there wasn’t much she could do but wait and hope that she didn’t sound like an angry thug.
She kicked the door again.
“Hey!” she called. “Is Noven in there? It’s Jade.”
ledger-3sm for the goose
She was doing her best to hide the creature; the Sunset Quarters were poor, yes––that was part of the reason they were so safe––but those that were poor would also find themselves hungry more often than not. The goose Mirian carried was fat and healthy, and there were plenty of people in the Sunset district that wouldn’t think twice about killing her for it.
She had done her best to escape the danger by wrapping the goose up in her cloak, but a fierce snap of the beak had kept her from trying to wrap up its head, which remained free and in the open. Mirian had instead taken her shawl and wrapped enough of it around her head that the excess could dangle just over the goose’s skull and neck, which seemed open enough for the thing to tolerate. It also served to obscure her face, so that she couldn’t be recognized; the last thing she wanted was a neighbor getting it into their head that she had more money than living a few blocks down from the Orphanage would suggest.
The same Orphanage that happened to be her destination, in fact.
Although she wasn’t sure what exactly the eating schedule was for the place, she was fairly sure that breakfast had already passed. It was possible that they didn’t partake in a formal midday meal, although it was just a possible that they did, but it seemed a bit early for it either way, anyway. She was hoping that she could catch the Orphanage staff––and Noven in particular––at an in-between time so she could be rid of the bird in her arms.
Her good fortune the two days earlier had left Mirian at ease for the moment. She had enough to live comfortably for quite a while, and then plenty more besides, but even so she had quickly found herself uncomfortable with the money. She didn’t like having so many coins in her possession; the advantages of wealth were many––as a thief, that was one of the core concepts that her world revolved around––but liquid money was easy to steal, and it left her with a horrible knot of worry in her throat whenever she was away from the house, no matter how well she hid it. She had even taken to splitting the sum up and squirreling it away in different parts of the room, but nothing alleviated her tension unless she was physically there to guard it.
She had quickly decided that liquid money was too volatile to keep for long, and she had found herself trying to be rid of it. Not all at once, of course, and not without cause; she wasn’t going to spend money like that for the sole purpose of spending it, but she just… wasn’t trying to save it. She used it as she wished for material comforts and items, consciously refusing to pinch mizas and letting the full sum gradually become less and less.
And part of that lessening of money had come in the form of a rather unexpected show of charity for the children that she had only just recently risked a great deal to save from slavers.
Mirian didn’t go to the front door of the Orphanage––she couldn’t remember a time she’d ever used the front door––and instead made her way around the building, through an alley where she’d once been nearly caught by a man willing to kill her over a sack of apples, and from there her path took her to the smaller, rougher back door that she knew led to the kitchens.
Once at the door, of course, she realized that she couldn’t exactly knock with a goose in her arms.
The halfbreed looked at the animal, which honked once as her shawl was thrown in its face. Back at the door. Back at the goose.
How was she going to do this?
Frowning to herself, Mirian took a deep breath, hefted to goose a bit higher to give herself room, and kicked at the wood. Once. Twice. Three times. It would probably sound a bit heavier than a normal knocking of a fist, but there wasn’t much she could do but wait and hope that she didn’t sound like an angry thug.
She kicked the door again.
“Hey!” she called. “Is Noven in there? It’s Jade.”
ledger-3sm for the goose
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