1st of spring, 519 AV
"Where are we going?" Aster asked, brows furrowed in confusion as Alard finished doing up the buttons on the nicest, cleanest shirt he owned. He'd returned to the apartment that afternoon with a new dress for Aster, and the commands to get changed and ready to go.
The dress wasn't exactly nice; it was obviously cheap. But it was cleaner than any of the ragged clothes she still owned. It was a deep crimson in colour, with a plunging neckline and short sleeves; while it had been embarrassingly short when Aster first put it on, the cotton had more give now that the sun had set and she had shifted into her smaller and slighter mortal form, dropping the hem to just above her knees.
All things considered, it was quite pretty. At Alard's recommendation (which she knew was just a nicely worded order), she'd also tied her hair up to 'show off her neck'. Show off her collar was more apt, but Aster kept silent about it.
"It's a celebration. To bring in the new year, and in honour of Olsten the Giant," Alard grunted, fixing his shirt collar, then strapping on his weapons. One could never be too safe in Sunberth, even when attending a celebration, it seemed.
He strode over to Aster, gripping her chin and raising her head, turning it side to side as he inspected her. Aster clenched her jaw, face flushing; she felt like a prized pet, a show animal. Judging by the pleased smirk on Alard's face and his next words, that's exactly what she was. "There, you clean up nicely. I don't want you too on display all the time, people get jealous so easily. But I think I can afford to show you off at a party, after all the money I spent on you."
Asterope said nothing, jerking her head back when Alard released her jaw and rubbing her fingers over her face where he had gripped her. "Who's Olsten the Giant?" She asked, to shift the topic, as Alard turned to lead the way from the apartment.
"Gods, girl. How do you not know that?" Alard looked at her incredulously; Aster simply shrugged, keeping her head down and following close to him as they left the barracks.
He made a 'tsk' sound, shaking his head. "I forget you aren't from here, sometimes. I suppose those outside of the city wouldn't really know our history. Long ago, this city was ruled by mages." Alard sneered as he said the word, turning his head to spit into the street.
He had mentioned Sunberth's disgust with and hatred of magic before; perhaps this was an explanation as to why. "They enslaved us, tortured us, killed us. Treated us like filth. Olsten the Giant was the one who was brave enough to stand up to it. He helped kill the dirty mage that ruled over us, and freed us from the grasp of magic. He lost his life in the process, but without him, nothing would have changed. Since then, any fool stupid enough to associate himself with magic is killed. We don't need or want any more of that kind of filth."
Asterope nodded silently when Alard finished speaking and glanced over to her; she supposed she could understand the city's hatred of magic, though it still seemed extreme. Alard interrupted her musings, nudging her. "We're almost there," he said, motioning towards smoke in the distance.
They hadn't walked very far; clearly their destination was close to the barracks, though it was past the edge of what could be considered the city. The smoke became more prominent as they approached, visible even in the dim light of the evening. Aster had noticed it before, but never asked.
The closer they got, the more prominent the smell became, as well. Aster wrinkled her nose, reaching up to cover her face, coughing slightly. Alard glanced over and laughed. "That's the Slag Heap, sunshine. You'll get used to it soon enough."
Asterope grimaced; the smell was strong and rancid, and acrid from smoke on top of it; it burned her throat and nose, and made her eyes water. She could see a large fire, growing brighter as they approached; there was a huge crowd of people, as well.
The noise finally reached her ears as they reached the outer limit of the light from the giant smoldering fire, people laughing and talking, shouting and just generally having a good time. A large effigy stood a ways from the heap, with some people seeming to put the finishing touches on it.
"Oh good, we're not too late," Alard spoke beside her, having to almost shout to be heard as they entered the crowd. There seemed to be two distinct ones, though both were equally rowdy, loud, and drunk. The ones closer to the effigy and heap seemed to be mostly talking, relaxing and enjoying drinks or drugs, while the ones more towards the outskirts were dancing and generally just running wild.
"Looks like the Bolt Hole's set up shop here for the night, too," Alard grunted, approvingly. "Now you know it's a party." Somewhere further away, though it was still somehow strong and almost deafening, a drumbeat started up.
Word Count: 873
The dress wasn't exactly nice; it was obviously cheap. But it was cleaner than any of the ragged clothes she still owned. It was a deep crimson in colour, with a plunging neckline and short sleeves; while it had been embarrassingly short when Aster first put it on, the cotton had more give now that the sun had set and she had shifted into her smaller and slighter mortal form, dropping the hem to just above her knees.
All things considered, it was quite pretty. At Alard's recommendation (which she knew was just a nicely worded order), she'd also tied her hair up to 'show off her neck'. Show off her collar was more apt, but Aster kept silent about it.
"It's a celebration. To bring in the new year, and in honour of Olsten the Giant," Alard grunted, fixing his shirt collar, then strapping on his weapons. One could never be too safe in Sunberth, even when attending a celebration, it seemed.
He strode over to Aster, gripping her chin and raising her head, turning it side to side as he inspected her. Aster clenched her jaw, face flushing; she felt like a prized pet, a show animal. Judging by the pleased smirk on Alard's face and his next words, that's exactly what she was. "There, you clean up nicely. I don't want you too on display all the time, people get jealous so easily. But I think I can afford to show you off at a party, after all the money I spent on you."
Asterope said nothing, jerking her head back when Alard released her jaw and rubbing her fingers over her face where he had gripped her. "Who's Olsten the Giant?" She asked, to shift the topic, as Alard turned to lead the way from the apartment.
"Gods, girl. How do you not know that?" Alard looked at her incredulously; Aster simply shrugged, keeping her head down and following close to him as they left the barracks.
He made a 'tsk' sound, shaking his head. "I forget you aren't from here, sometimes. I suppose those outside of the city wouldn't really know our history. Long ago, this city was ruled by mages." Alard sneered as he said the word, turning his head to spit into the street.
He had mentioned Sunberth's disgust with and hatred of magic before; perhaps this was an explanation as to why. "They enslaved us, tortured us, killed us. Treated us like filth. Olsten the Giant was the one who was brave enough to stand up to it. He helped kill the dirty mage that ruled over us, and freed us from the grasp of magic. He lost his life in the process, but without him, nothing would have changed. Since then, any fool stupid enough to associate himself with magic is killed. We don't need or want any more of that kind of filth."
Asterope nodded silently when Alard finished speaking and glanced over to her; she supposed she could understand the city's hatred of magic, though it still seemed extreme. Alard interrupted her musings, nudging her. "We're almost there," he said, motioning towards smoke in the distance.
They hadn't walked very far; clearly their destination was close to the barracks, though it was past the edge of what could be considered the city. The smoke became more prominent as they approached, visible even in the dim light of the evening. Aster had noticed it before, but never asked.
The closer they got, the more prominent the smell became, as well. Aster wrinkled her nose, reaching up to cover her face, coughing slightly. Alard glanced over and laughed. "That's the Slag Heap, sunshine. You'll get used to it soon enough."
Asterope grimaced; the smell was strong and rancid, and acrid from smoke on top of it; it burned her throat and nose, and made her eyes water. She could see a large fire, growing brighter as they approached; there was a huge crowd of people, as well.
The noise finally reached her ears as they reached the outer limit of the light from the giant smoldering fire, people laughing and talking, shouting and just generally having a good time. A large effigy stood a ways from the heap, with some people seeming to put the finishing touches on it.
"Oh good, we're not too late," Alard spoke beside her, having to almost shout to be heard as they entered the crowd. There seemed to be two distinct ones, though both were equally rowdy, loud, and drunk. The ones closer to the effigy and heap seemed to be mostly talking, relaxing and enjoying drinks or drugs, while the ones more towards the outskirts were dancing and generally just running wild.
"Looks like the Bolt Hole's set up shop here for the night, too," Alard grunted, approvingly. "Now you know it's a party." Somewhere further away, though it was still somehow strong and almost deafening, a drumbeat started up.
Word Count: 873
