60th
He always urged her to go. He said it was good to keep up appearances, to offer a little advertisement for the shop. He told her you could find the best items, hidden away, that shops were selective, that she needed to be seen as Nykan, not a foreigner.
Alija knew the true reason why he told her to go: her father could not leave, but she could. He wanted her to be his eyes on the city he had grown used to, and to tell her all that was happening. One of those things was the Fourth Day Market.
This time, she gave in, taking Kial in one hand and the leash to Trump in the other. They paraded through the streets, taking in every detail - the markings on the walls, the hooded monks and the everyday people, the only similarity between Zeltiva and this place. Wherever you went, you would see them: the woman and their children, the men, the young and the old. She tried to smile at everyone, but found her smile directed to the floor.
Being friendly and open was hard when surrounded by strangers, despite having lived in Nyka for more than a season now.
The Celestial Square was crowded with stalls and goods, pottery flooding the section she had entered. People called out, advertising their prices, and she stopped to examine a pitcher with green leaves along the edge. It was pretty, and she brought up the courage to ask for the price.
"Gallon - I'd take a laat," the stall-keeper barked out, and Alija shook her head, shocked at the price.
"I'd buy it if it were half that," she replied, with a look of shock from the passerbys.
"She didn't try to haggle, did she?" one of them whispered, and Alija realised her mistake. Quickly, she pulled out a coin, flicking it at the stall-keeper, and snatched the pitcher up, marching away swiftly. Shocked looks followed her, but thankfully, nothing else did. Better get out of here, and quickly.
Her next stop was at the section with cloths. Different materials, different colours, but all beautiful. The city of Nyka had asked for a flag, and many crowded around the stall buying materials for their design. Alija had her own, so joined the crowd, picking out her own fabrics. She chose carefully, feeling through the material as she tried to judge whether it would sew together well. Eventually, she chose, placing the selected materials and paying quickly with no protest to the price.
ledgergallon pitcher - 1 laat
red cotton -1.5 laats
black cotton - 1.5 laats
yellow cotton - 1.5 laats
(all rounded up to make up for more expensive prices in market)
total - 5.5 laats
He always urged her to go. He said it was good to keep up appearances, to offer a little advertisement for the shop. He told her you could find the best items, hidden away, that shops were selective, that she needed to be seen as Nykan, not a foreigner.
Alija knew the true reason why he told her to go: her father could not leave, but she could. He wanted her to be his eyes on the city he had grown used to, and to tell her all that was happening. One of those things was the Fourth Day Market.
This time, she gave in, taking Kial in one hand and the leash to Trump in the other. They paraded through the streets, taking in every detail - the markings on the walls, the hooded monks and the everyday people, the only similarity between Zeltiva and this place. Wherever you went, you would see them: the woman and their children, the men, the young and the old. She tried to smile at everyone, but found her smile directed to the floor.
Being friendly and open was hard when surrounded by strangers, despite having lived in Nyka for more than a season now.
The Celestial Square was crowded with stalls and goods, pottery flooding the section she had entered. People called out, advertising their prices, and she stopped to examine a pitcher with green leaves along the edge. It was pretty, and she brought up the courage to ask for the price.
"Gallon - I'd take a laat," the stall-keeper barked out, and Alija shook her head, shocked at the price.
"I'd buy it if it were half that," she replied, with a look of shock from the passerbys.
"She didn't try to haggle, did she?" one of them whispered, and Alija realised her mistake. Quickly, she pulled out a coin, flicking it at the stall-keeper, and snatched the pitcher up, marching away swiftly. Shocked looks followed her, but thankfully, nothing else did. Better get out of here, and quickly.
Her next stop was at the section with cloths. Different materials, different colours, but all beautiful. The city of Nyka had asked for a flag, and many crowded around the stall buying materials for their design. Alija had her own, so joined the crowd, picking out her own fabrics. She chose carefully, feeling through the material as she tried to judge whether it would sew together well. Eventually, she chose, placing the selected materials and paying quickly with no protest to the price.
ledgergallon pitcher - 1 laat
red cotton -1.5 laats
black cotton - 1.5 laats
yellow cotton - 1.5 laats
(all rounded up to make up for more expensive prices in market)
total - 5.5 laats
