55th of summer, 519 AV
Aster didn't mind the heat; the humidity, however, was a different story. The fog that had rolled into the city early on in the season had been talked about as strange, but there was hope that it would at least cool the air down a little bit.
Perhaps it had, but if so, it was unnoticeable behind the humidity that it brought with it. Aster hated the way it clung to her whenever she was outside; breathing felt as if it was being done through a damp cloth on especially bad days, and while she didn't usually sweat much, there was a constant, pervasive sense of dampness that just wouldn't leave her alone. Not even the sun setting seemed to help. It was unpleasant, to say the least.
She suspected the strange weather might have something to do with the recent lack of winter, but without knowing too much about weather patterns herself, it was hard to say. Still, she hoped that the next winter would be different; as much as she hated the cold, the continuous lack of the season was eerie at best and disastrous at worst; unbidden, her mind drifted back to Alvadas, when the swarm of insects had descended upon the city. It made her shudder to even remember.
Regardless, there was nothing Asterope could do about it except try to stay dry, so she returned her wandering attention back to the current situation. Alard had needed to meet with someone at the Pig's Foot Tavern, and after her stunt early last season, he'd been keeping her close. Granted, he'd slowly been relaxing, seeming to think that Aster had learnt her lesson.
Only time would tell if that was true or not.
Quietly, Aster sat, sipping at the mug of ale Alard had ordered for and wrinkling her nose at the taste. She wasn't fond of ale to begin with, and what she was drinking wasn't exactly the best quality one could find. Setting the still full mug back down on the table, she pushed it away with her fingertips, leaning back in her chair.
Across the table, Alard and the other man were leaning in close to each other, speaking in hushed tones, voices drowned out by the ruckus of the tavern even sitting just across from her. Aster strained to listen, trying not to seem obvious, but Alard caught her eye and scowled at her.
Aster glanced away quickly, flushing slightly. Whatever they were talking about, it seemed heated, and she wasn't keen on having Alard turn his irritation on her. Seeing that she wasn't drinking her ale, Alard leaned over to swipe the mug with a grunt, sloshing pale liquid over the sides. He took a deep drink before continuing his conversation.
Aster frowned slightly, but said nothing, instead turning her gaze on her surroundings, eyes roving over the rowdy patrons of the Pig's Foot and taking them in, looking for something entertaining to watch to pass the time.
Word Count: 496
Perhaps it had, but if so, it was unnoticeable behind the humidity that it brought with it. Aster hated the way it clung to her whenever she was outside; breathing felt as if it was being done through a damp cloth on especially bad days, and while she didn't usually sweat much, there was a constant, pervasive sense of dampness that just wouldn't leave her alone. Not even the sun setting seemed to help. It was unpleasant, to say the least.
She suspected the strange weather might have something to do with the recent lack of winter, but without knowing too much about weather patterns herself, it was hard to say. Still, she hoped that the next winter would be different; as much as she hated the cold, the continuous lack of the season was eerie at best and disastrous at worst; unbidden, her mind drifted back to Alvadas, when the swarm of insects had descended upon the city. It made her shudder to even remember.
Regardless, there was nothing Asterope could do about it except try to stay dry, so she returned her wandering attention back to the current situation. Alard had needed to meet with someone at the Pig's Foot Tavern, and after her stunt early last season, he'd been keeping her close. Granted, he'd slowly been relaxing, seeming to think that Aster had learnt her lesson.
Only time would tell if that was true or not.
Quietly, Aster sat, sipping at the mug of ale Alard had ordered for and wrinkling her nose at the taste. She wasn't fond of ale to begin with, and what she was drinking wasn't exactly the best quality one could find. Setting the still full mug back down on the table, she pushed it away with her fingertips, leaning back in her chair.
Across the table, Alard and the other man were leaning in close to each other, speaking in hushed tones, voices drowned out by the ruckus of the tavern even sitting just across from her. Aster strained to listen, trying not to seem obvious, but Alard caught her eye and scowled at her.
Aster glanced away quickly, flushing slightly. Whatever they were talking about, it seemed heated, and she wasn't keen on having Alard turn his irritation on her. Seeing that she wasn't drinking her ale, Alard leaned over to swipe the mug with a grunt, sloshing pale liquid over the sides. He took a deep drink before continuing his conversation.
Aster frowned slightly, but said nothing, instead turning her gaze on her surroundings, eyes roving over the rowdy patrons of the Pig's Foot and taking them in, looking for something entertaining to watch to pass the time.
Word Count: 496