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15th Spring, 517 AV
On a side street of Alvadas
On a side street of Alvadas
Datha was a beautiful, blonde, elegantly tall woman reminiscent of some fashionable candelabra. She wore her hair in elaborate braids that she had artfully curled onto and around her head, like snakes or fountains or daffodils in the wind. And she did it all herself, thank you very much. Datha was rightfully proud of her hairdressing skills, having been brought up in the Orphanage with very little chance of developing any kind of skill. Yet skill she had, and she broadcast it wherever she went. That was how she made her mizas, after all. It didn't do to be discreet when you relied on your pride for income.
On a small but sometimes large side-street of Alvadas, Datha strode purposefully. She didn't own her own business, but instead made it her job to go to people's houses and arrange their hair in the comfort of their own homes. She was visiting a client, some measly grunt of a woman who had unfortunately contacted her some days ago asking for a 'new look'. Datha had only agreed after been given part of the payment in advance, and she had kept it quiet, secretive almost, embarrassed as she was to be cutting and shaping some greasy-headed, ugly-faced woman.
Nevertheless, money was money, and so Datha approached the narrow house with it's slate-clad façade with resolution, before knocking twice on the stoutly painted orange door. She waited, one exact chime, and then knocked once more. Yet still there was no answer. Datha shifted from foot to foot impatiently, and then made up her mind in a snap as she pushed the door and entered, calling out the woman's name.
"Vanessa, are you there?" The house, dark and surprisingly cold, simply stayed quiet, absorbing Datha's mellow voice. She entered more cautiously, but didn't stop to think of the consequences. She passed through a narrow hallway with a tall ceiling. The walls were painted with a dark paint of unknown colour, as the gloom that pervaded the hall made it very difficult to see what was actually there.
She let out a muffled curse as she stumbled on a tumbled pile of laundry, and turned up her petite nose in disgust. Whoever this Vanessa person was, she sure was a slob. Datha moved on, her opinion of her client only going down as she shuffled past discarded coats, worn-out shoes, and a pile of fabricless umbrellas. Then she pushed open the door of the kitchen, and...
Anthere, walking past, might see the blonde-haired woman rushing past, out of the house, and bending over rather inelegantly and vomiting onto the pavement. She might see the door of the slate-covered building swinging open, revealing a dimly lit hall and a pile of dead leaves on the step. She might, if she were the observant type, feel an aura of dread emanating from the house and the woman who looked so out of place and so dreadfully pale in the cool light of the late morning. Whatever she saw or felt, Anthere would have no choice but to be dragged into the situation, as Datha would reach out and forcefully grab the wandering Nuit, wordlessly searching for her grabee's eyes, and beseeching her with wordless lips to help.
On a small but sometimes large side-street of Alvadas, Datha strode purposefully. She didn't own her own business, but instead made it her job to go to people's houses and arrange their hair in the comfort of their own homes. She was visiting a client, some measly grunt of a woman who had unfortunately contacted her some days ago asking for a 'new look'. Datha had only agreed after been given part of the payment in advance, and she had kept it quiet, secretive almost, embarrassed as she was to be cutting and shaping some greasy-headed, ugly-faced woman.
Nevertheless, money was money, and so Datha approached the narrow house with it's slate-clad façade with resolution, before knocking twice on the stoutly painted orange door. She waited, one exact chime, and then knocked once more. Yet still there was no answer. Datha shifted from foot to foot impatiently, and then made up her mind in a snap as she pushed the door and entered, calling out the woman's name.
"Vanessa, are you there?" The house, dark and surprisingly cold, simply stayed quiet, absorbing Datha's mellow voice. She entered more cautiously, but didn't stop to think of the consequences. She passed through a narrow hallway with a tall ceiling. The walls were painted with a dark paint of unknown colour, as the gloom that pervaded the hall made it very difficult to see what was actually there.
She let out a muffled curse as she stumbled on a tumbled pile of laundry, and turned up her petite nose in disgust. Whoever this Vanessa person was, she sure was a slob. Datha moved on, her opinion of her client only going down as she shuffled past discarded coats, worn-out shoes, and a pile of fabricless umbrellas. Then she pushed open the door of the kitchen, and...
___
Anthere, walking past, might see the blonde-haired woman rushing past, out of the house, and bending over rather inelegantly and vomiting onto the pavement. She might see the door of the slate-covered building swinging open, revealing a dimly lit hall and a pile of dead leaves on the step. She might, if she were the observant type, feel an aura of dread emanating from the house and the woman who looked so out of place and so dreadfully pale in the cool light of the late morning. Whatever she saw or felt, Anthere would have no choice but to be dragged into the situation, as Datha would reach out and forcefully grab the wandering Nuit, wordlessly searching for her grabee's eyes, and beseeching her with wordless lips to help.
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