52nd Spring 517
"Speech"
"Others"
"Speech"
"Others"
It can be said of Alvadas, that no matter how bizarre, strange, or unworldly your day has been, you still have to go to work the next day. So it was that although Ssanya was bewildered, befuddled, and bemused, she still got out of bed and went to work with a reluctance bordering on refusal. Her workplace had steadily been growing less and less appealing and more and more frosty, as her employer eyed her with suspicion and Ssanya fought with the urge to laughingly make totem after totem in front of the woman's very eyes. But, she had so far kept her wilful spitefulness in check.
The day was full of wisps of cloud and wind and air, and she walked through them, pushing aside curtains of solid air that felt like silk rushing past her face until she got to the market where the woman was based. The weather was certainly unusual. Since the 50th, a playful mist had descended onto the city. Like with all of Ionu's illusions, this too caused disruption and confusion, in roughly equal measures. Ssanya liked it, although it was at times too cold for her.
As she entered the Bizarre, the mist sloughed off her hair and down, as if shying away from the building, but she shrugged it off and looked about for Vera.*Ssanya's boss Colourful stalls lined the twisting alley, with traders broadcasting their wares cheerfully in her direction. Ssanya ran her fingers over a lilac dress, it's fabric as soft as petals. "Thar's 40 gold mizas for you, pretty miss." The store owner grinned, his dark hair piled into a curled plait on top of his head. She inclined her head, and made her exit. Her gaze fell to a pile of exotic jewels set in tangled chains. Then she flitted to a toy shop, it's benches filled with miniature wooden dolls whose faces moved when strings were pulled. She soaked in the myriad sights of the bazaar and let herself drift. Anything rather than go to work.
Why did she feel that way? The snake-woman wasn't averse to working. She wasn't lazy- nobody in Mizahar could afford to be lazy, she reckoned, let alone her. But there was something about never being trusted that grated her. There was something about doing a job that was so close to her greatest passion, but not being allowed to make what she desired, that stung. It did not help that Vera, her mysterious, elderly boss, was so suspicious of her. It made the woman very hard to like. She had tried. But nothing seemed to please her- not her work, not her demeanour, not her speech. So over the past seasons, Ssanya had grown steadily quieter, steadily more begrudging, and finally the two treated each other with a wary, cold distance.
It came as no surprise when she finally found the rickety, shawl-covered stall, to see that the older woman was glaring with a fierce bitterness at her approaching worker. The snake-woman almost groaned, but kept silent as she approached. Her half-hearted project lay ready for her, a wooden necklace, whose beads needed replacing. She made to sit down, mind already sinking into oblivion...
A neighbouring stall kitchen was making hot tea, the scents of which wafted across her nose and awoke her dull mind. A petite chef leaned over the counter, sensing prey, and offered a steaming cup. "Here, for you? Only one silver miza!" It was a mundane gesture, a simple everyday offering from someone just doing their job. But Ssanya was startled. Vera was watching her through heavy eyes as her brain kicked into action. Why was she still in this job when she hated it so much? Why should she continue wasting her bells, especially in such a city as this, when she could be doing anything?
Her spine straightened. Vera watched passively. Ssanya turned around, without a word, and took the cup from the outstretched hand. "Here isss your sssilver miza. Good day to you."
"And yourself, lady!" The seller called out to her, but she was already walking away.
