Speach | Thoughts | 76 Winter, 513 AV
Work had kept her back some half a bell longer than she'd expected, and given the fruitless trip to The Fourth Day Market she decided she'd take along the way, the skies were well on their way to turning, and the monks seemed to be taking quite the amount of joy in harassing adolescences out of the streets, and pressing them towards home.
Naia took a glance towards the shifting skies above, from the oranges and golds, to the pinks and purples, and all hues in between. She let her gaze fall as she took note as to how the colours fell and played on windows, how they gave the streets and stones are rather brilliant glow, and although the district never quite felt like home to the Svefra - the beauty was bewitching. "My, oh my, Nyka. You are beautiful." She gave small smile to herself, finding that since she'd been detached from the sea and bay so often, many of her affections at the landscape was quickly turning from the waters to the city herself. Naia still loved her sea, and sort its comfort when ever time allowed, but she figured it was high time she appreciated what she had in Nyka itself, from its bewildering beauty, it's sheer strangeness, to the odd aroma of soup that seemed to have attached itself to her coat. Maybe not that last one.
She slowed her pace to a simple stroll, finding that she was beginning to pass through the bulk of the quarter, not too far off from her own small apartment. A steady stream of people was drifting here and there, many looking tired and weary, though some seemed in high spirits. Several more short steps and she heard the sound that could be only one thing: someone had pissed off a monk. Part of her wanted to return home and rest, cradling her backpack as though she nursed a child, but an even bigger part of her wanted to see what in Gods' names someone could have done to make him - or her, it was a rather ambiguous, husky sounding voice that somehow shrilled to ridiculously high pitches - so mad.
She used her ears to the best that she could manage, resting a free hand on the wall to her left as she paid less attention to what was in her way, and more so which street to take. Soon the wall fell away to narrow, alley like passage, a slight downwards slope and chilly draft. She paused for a moment, now able to hear loud and clear what the monk was yelling about, but not before a red faced, young woman came barreling towards her. A small step to the side put her out of harms way, though not saving her bag from being clipped, a silver Miza's worth of laat falling to the ground. She couldn't help how hasty she collected her coin, nor the glare she sent towards the turmoil that had began rippling through the street in the wake of the young woman. 'What in Gods' Names did they do? Something about a dare or a fight- what?'
She held her gear close as she made her way carefully down the narrow street, preferring to not have the monk's apparently never-ending rage turned toward her. She bit her lip as she noted the narrow street open up to a larger area, and she took action necessary to see the rant as it took place in a way that couldn't quite be classed as eavesdropping, nor anything else that could have her in trouble. If there was anything she learned in her youth, it was that thin people could fight too, and that if you did anything a arouse suspicion of a monk, you better start actively avoiding them and hope they don't take a dislike to you.
She thought on her feet and gave an internal groan at her own little plan in the works, deciding that she'd just go with the flow. She let a couple of coins fall from her free hand, and watched with a look of anticipation as they ran off into the wider street, before breaking into a light sprint to catch and collect them.
If all worked according to the way that she hoped, she'd be able to make herself look like a dazed native that had stumbled and lost hold of their coin, not meaning to burst in and receive a brilliant view as the scene played out. She might need to splutter an apology, or make a face to look like she didn't mean to intrude, but she figured she could keep a simple little klutz act going on for a least a chime. With the number of times she'd had to pretend to be busied at work to avoid awkward conversation, she figured that acting a bit scatterbrained was well within her skills.
Naia took a glance towards the shifting skies above, from the oranges and golds, to the pinks and purples, and all hues in between. She let her gaze fall as she took note as to how the colours fell and played on windows, how they gave the streets and stones are rather brilliant glow, and although the district never quite felt like home to the Svefra - the beauty was bewitching. "My, oh my, Nyka. You are beautiful." She gave small smile to herself, finding that since she'd been detached from the sea and bay so often, many of her affections at the landscape was quickly turning from the waters to the city herself. Naia still loved her sea, and sort its comfort when ever time allowed, but she figured it was high time she appreciated what she had in Nyka itself, from its bewildering beauty, it's sheer strangeness, to the odd aroma of soup that seemed to have attached itself to her coat. Maybe not that last one.
She slowed her pace to a simple stroll, finding that she was beginning to pass through the bulk of the quarter, not too far off from her own small apartment. A steady stream of people was drifting here and there, many looking tired and weary, though some seemed in high spirits. Several more short steps and she heard the sound that could be only one thing: someone had pissed off a monk. Part of her wanted to return home and rest, cradling her backpack as though she nursed a child, but an even bigger part of her wanted to see what in Gods' names someone could have done to make him - or her, it was a rather ambiguous, husky sounding voice that somehow shrilled to ridiculously high pitches - so mad.
She used her ears to the best that she could manage, resting a free hand on the wall to her left as she paid less attention to what was in her way, and more so which street to take. Soon the wall fell away to narrow, alley like passage, a slight downwards slope and chilly draft. She paused for a moment, now able to hear loud and clear what the monk was yelling about, but not before a red faced, young woman came barreling towards her. A small step to the side put her out of harms way, though not saving her bag from being clipped, a silver Miza's worth of laat falling to the ground. She couldn't help how hasty she collected her coin, nor the glare she sent towards the turmoil that had began rippling through the street in the wake of the young woman. 'What in Gods' Names did they do? Something about a dare or a fight- what?'
She held her gear close as she made her way carefully down the narrow street, preferring to not have the monk's apparently never-ending rage turned toward her. She bit her lip as she noted the narrow street open up to a larger area, and she took action necessary to see the rant as it took place in a way that couldn't quite be classed as eavesdropping, nor anything else that could have her in trouble. If there was anything she learned in her youth, it was that thin people could fight too, and that if you did anything a arouse suspicion of a monk, you better start actively avoiding them and hope they don't take a dislike to you.
She thought on her feet and gave an internal groan at her own little plan in the works, deciding that she'd just go with the flow. She let a couple of coins fall from her free hand, and watched with a look of anticipation as they ran off into the wider street, before breaking into a light sprint to catch and collect them.
If all worked according to the way that she hoped, she'd be able to make herself look like a dazed native that had stumbled and lost hold of their coin, not meaning to burst in and receive a brilliant view as the scene played out. She might need to splutter an apology, or make a face to look like she didn't mean to intrude, but she figured she could keep a simple little klutz act going on for a least a chime. With the number of times she'd had to pretend to be busied at work to avoid awkward conversation, she figured that acting a bit scatterbrained was well within her skills.
