the market was loud in a way minthune could not understand.
not merely sound—but intent. bustling voices overlapped, collided, rose and fell with sharp edges she could not grasp. meaning moved too quickly here, slipping past her like water through open fingers. she stood still amidst it, blinking and squinting her snow-dusted eyelashes against the sunlight, pale and luminous, a figure carved from another age, another world—untouched by the rhythm of this one.
the stall before her was crowded with small, necessary things: dried herbs bundled in twine, glass vials clouded with residue, crushed petals sealed in waxed packets. familiar, in shape if not in name. that, at least, she understood.
her fingers hovered, then settled delicately over a bundle of pale leaves. she turned them slightly, studying their veins, the faint dust clinging to their surface. her gaze lifted—slow, searching—and met the merchant’s.
he had already been watching her.
"well?" he snapped, impatience bleeding plainly into his tone. "you buying, or just standing there, elf?"
minthune did not flinch, but something in her expression shifted—small, uncertain. she drew in a breath, as though preparing to answer, though no words came.
instead, she tried. her lips parted, forming something soft and lilting—syllables shaped from a language long buried beneath centuries of silence. it carried a gentle cadence, almost musical, entirely incomprehensible. the merchant stared at her.
she hesitated, chromatic eyes flickering—not with fear, but with the fragile strain of effort. again, slower this time, as if careful shaping might bridge the gap of misunderstanding. her voice was clear like a bell, chiming like a holy instrument, as though even this simple exchange deserved grace. it made no difference.
"i don't know what in oblivion you're saying," he muttered, irritation sharpening. "you got coin or not?"
minthune stilled. coin. the word meant nothing to her.
her hand lowered from the herbs, drifting instead to the folds of her white robes, as if something there might answer for her. there was only the soft chime of gold ornamentation, the faint shimmer of a world that no longer existed.
her gaze returned to him, open and unguarded—and unmistakably lost.
around them, the market pressed on without pause.
for cassius, @d3athwaltz.
