First of Winter, 514 A.V.
It was the day of his birth, twenty five years after the mundane event. Kenneric Crowe groaned as he shrugged on his jerkin and half-cape. The combination left him anticipating a cold day, for they provided not nearly enough thickness for comfort. Breath was visible caressing the air from the moment he opened his pale eyes. The Slums apartments were not nice enough to keep the cool touch of winter’s chill from them, and had indeed become less bearable over the course of the fall. Kenneric would have to find thicker clothing, and perhaps a thicker bedroll as well, before the winter started making such demands of everyone.
He pushed at his apartment door, and gave it a sharp kick because it sometimes stuck. He boxed his shoulders up as he stepped outside and rubbed his hands vigorously together. His pale features dropped into a frown. It had snowed. Morwen had left her northern home and graced the city with a layer of the white powder. This early it was still relatively untouched and gave the city an oddly innocent look, like it hid the grime and corruption underneath.
The snow was beautiful. A pale sheet of purity to blanket the city and draw attention away from the imperfections of their mortal world. Their hovel of sin. But Kenneric knew that time would turn the beauty of the snow into a brown mush, time and the daily drudgery of Sunberth. He bent, crouching to further examine the snow outside of the Slums. The powder at his feet caught the sunlight like some sort of jewelry too beautiful to be crafted by man. Indeed so beautiful only a god could fathom it. He thought on that for a moment more before standing and making his way quickly down the street.
Feet set towards the no doubt frigid Seaside Market Kenneric’s thoughts were of a warm winter coat. A woolen barrier against the touch of a goddess whose world was too harsh for the poor to survive. It would be a cause for concern, this winter.
He bent himself with shoulders hunched in the cold, arms crossed high across his chest. Crowe hoped the market was not flooded with the high tide at this time. He didn’t think he could navigate the makeshift bridges with sufficient grace with Morwen’s grasp stiffening his limbs. He felt her touch numbing his lips.
The market was mostly desolate at this early hour, with most giving up the venture for the warmth of hearth or bed, Kenneric suspected. But the few brave patrons huddled close to the carts or stalls and their clerks. The ocean blew in an incessant breeze that cut through the inadequate half-cape about Kenneric’s shoulders. He set his teeth and stepped up onto the nearest wooden platform to make his way over to the clothing merchants.
It was the day of his birth, twenty five years after the mundane event. Kenneric Crowe groaned as he shrugged on his jerkin and half-cape. The combination left him anticipating a cold day, for they provided not nearly enough thickness for comfort. Breath was visible caressing the air from the moment he opened his pale eyes. The Slums apartments were not nice enough to keep the cool touch of winter’s chill from them, and had indeed become less bearable over the course of the fall. Kenneric would have to find thicker clothing, and perhaps a thicker bedroll as well, before the winter started making such demands of everyone.
He pushed at his apartment door, and gave it a sharp kick because it sometimes stuck. He boxed his shoulders up as he stepped outside and rubbed his hands vigorously together. His pale features dropped into a frown. It had snowed. Morwen had left her northern home and graced the city with a layer of the white powder. This early it was still relatively untouched and gave the city an oddly innocent look, like it hid the grime and corruption underneath.
The snow was beautiful. A pale sheet of purity to blanket the city and draw attention away from the imperfections of their mortal world. Their hovel of sin. But Kenneric knew that time would turn the beauty of the snow into a brown mush, time and the daily drudgery of Sunberth. He bent, crouching to further examine the snow outside of the Slums. The powder at his feet caught the sunlight like some sort of jewelry too beautiful to be crafted by man. Indeed so beautiful only a god could fathom it. He thought on that for a moment more before standing and making his way quickly down the street.
Feet set towards the no doubt frigid Seaside Market Kenneric’s thoughts were of a warm winter coat. A woolen barrier against the touch of a goddess whose world was too harsh for the poor to survive. It would be a cause for concern, this winter.
He bent himself with shoulders hunched in the cold, arms crossed high across his chest. Crowe hoped the market was not flooded with the high tide at this time. He didn’t think he could navigate the makeshift bridges with sufficient grace with Morwen’s grasp stiffening his limbs. He felt her touch numbing his lips.
The market was mostly desolate at this early hour, with most giving up the venture for the warmth of hearth or bed, Kenneric suspected. But the few brave patrons huddled close to the carts or stalls and their clerks. The ocean blew in an incessant breeze that cut through the inadequate half-cape about Kenneric’s shoulders. He set his teeth and stepped up onto the nearest wooden platform to make his way over to the clothing merchants.
