@queenverdigris
Vashael didn’t often get to play tourist outside of his mother’s borders.
He traveled often, but it was always for work, or business and occasionally the end of the world. He never got to wander through local markets in cities he didn’t know, lost on streets he could barely pronounce, wondering which one of the many, many handicrafts he still had enough coin for. He rarely had so much free time as to get well and truly lost - and yet there he was, anyway, far from any landmark signs or buildings he may have recognized as being nearby the place he and his friends were staying that week.
The dark-haired man cast his eyes around the marketplace, wondering if it would be worth the time to try and retrace his steps, or if he should simply ask for directions. Michael would forgive him if he were late getting back, but Naoka might not...and he had promised her that he’d be back before it got too late. Looking around, his eyes were drawn toward a woman with some of the reddest hair he’d ever seen, standing beside a nearby stall, and he made up his mind.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” Vashael raised one hand to catch the woman’s attention. “Do you know how I could get to the Tradewind Inn from here?”
