Varah always hated going to the market. Being a Clergyman’s wife wasn't all it was cut out to be, after being under her husband’s thumb for six years, she regretted the deal every day. Her debts were all paid, that was good. She wasn't living in the East Slums, battling overgrown vines and deadly plants that enveloped houses and ate anything they could trap. She had a roof over her head, and plenty of food on the table-- food she was only allowed to eat after her husband was satisfied with his plate.
The brass bracelets around either of her wrists always made it difficult to gauge the proper weights of Syntha fruits by hand, testaments to her heavy marriage. They had to sit just right in her palm in order to know she was buying a good product; if it were too heavy, chances were the pit inside was overgrown and there’d be hardly any of the actual fruit to eat.
A bout of nausea washed over her like freezing water, and she worked to blink it away. It’d been happening every other morning for the past four weeks, a month. She just hoped she’d be able to contain her stomach long enough to not lose it all over the produce.
She hurried to choose a fruit, pulling the roll of square stamps from her dress pocket and tearing five off. She handed it to the farmer over the counter and rushed off, tucking the fruit with the rest of her market purchases. Her stomach relented to settle, churning and growing lighter with every step. Down the pathed road and to the open grass square is where she lost her breakfast behind a bush. Dress bunched in her hand to keep it out of the way, it luckily only lasted five seconds, but Varah stayed hunched over collecting her breaths.
Until someone cleared their throat to her left on the path. “Varah? Aak tof dukke?”
She exhaled through her nose. She could recognize a farm accent, and whose voice it belonged to. Setting a stabilizing hand against her stomach, she stood up straight, not bothering to collect any more poise.
“Yes, it's me. You didn't recognize me by my beautiful hurling, Sashi?”
Her meeting Sashi had been by total chance, and possibly the only reason she managed to make it to today, even if her current circumstances weren't the most favorable. When she was surviving out in the slums of the coterie, she had no shame stealing from Syntha farms. And by the grace of Sashi’s compassionate, young, stupid mind he let her have the fruits he couldn't sell rather than run her through with a blade.
That had been years ago, but in the times they were able they made conversation. Beffi was with him, a large crate of produce and food stuff under one strong arm. Varah always found it amusing that he was built just like the cattle he herded.
“What were you throwing up?” He asked gruffly. She’d known him as long as she had Sashi, but they’d never gotten along. An old half buried, semi-tolerable hatchet that she had no interest in uncovering more.
“My first meal of the day,” Varah glanced back at the bush. Sashi furrowed his brow in concern.
“You didn't get a stomach worm did you-? It's sick season, afterall.”
“Pft, no, I'm sure of that. I would’ve turned green by now. It's been happening for the past few weeks though.”
Beffi scratched his head, combing his fingers through his hair as if to conjure up a thought. It was nearly white from its original blonde shade from years in the sun.
“....Has it just been in the morning?”
“Why do you say that like it's suspicious?”
“No, it's not. Just maybe you should watch your stomach for the next few months. Consult the ducks and fish.”
His joking tone did nothing to stop her from fully tensing. Her palms might as well have been dipped in buckets of water with how sweaty they became, and she almost felt sick again. Sashi nudged her arm to break her from her frozen zone out.
“Uhm, Varah-? Could I ask a favor of you?”
She shuddered away her chills and focused on rooting back to a nonchalant expression. “Hm? Depends what I'll get out of it.”
“Possibly finding dirt on the clergy?” He forced it out quickly as if he knew Beffi would whack him in the back of the head with a curse,
“Shafe! You promised!”
“I'm not at a meeting!” He snapped, adjusting his hat back in place. Varah had already mulled it over, smiling slyly.
“Yeah, alright. Anything in particular?”
“Just anything, really. More people have gone missing, and I checked the places they were last seen-- not one monster track. I think it's the Clergy.”
“This isn't your first conspiracy craze… but I do need something to keep me busy. I'll see if I can snoop around. Sift through my husband's drawer…”
Again her muscles went rigid as she glanced up at the sky, squinting to measure the time.
“.....Vwenk-- I need to go, I haven't even started brunch yet. Try not getting arrested, Sashi.” Her tone held sincerity. With a pat on Sashi’s cheek, she collected her dress up to her knees and broke into a run down the branching right path.
Author's note: Introducing Varah! She needs a better husband. Also, fun fact, I've made about five languages for different Cloyaflash Species. Sashi, Varah, and Beffi are Synthians, who would technically speak Synthanese
