AUTHOR'S NOTE -- July 30, 2017: So, this post marks the major reveal of one of the story elements for which the third paragraph of disclaimer in the side bar was eventually written. Adding this now just to echo that sentiment, to acknowledge the problematic nature of the post, the way it was handled, and any comments I made on it at the time, and to generally apologize for my poor creative decisions as an uninformed youth, and to commit to being better in the present and future.
Falidor and Nora would have been furious with her if they ever found out she had ridden alone all the way to Tetranshire after escorting Rifden to Jothein's old shop, but the way Alsina saw it, what they didn't know wouldn't hurt them. Besides, did they really just expect her to stay in Lyran Village all day? Hell, it wasn't as if she didn't go there a hundred times a year anyway... and who was she to waste such a beautiful day? Would there ever again be a New Year's Eve Day warm enough to leave one's cloak at home? Alsina somehow doubted it.
Besides, Nora had asked her to fetch some meat, and Willott's shop was closed for the day--why not try this one?
Not that there was any discernible sign of meat here, other than the smell. In fact, the only indication that this was even a butcher shop was the butcher's bloody apron. Had he ever washed that thing... ever? She was almost tempted to ask him, but then he stood; dear God, he was tall! And not just tall, but big--if she commented on his personal hygiene, he'd likely smash her into pieces.
Smirking, he drew nearer, the stench of the apron with him. "Haven't seen you around these parts before, miss. Can I help you?"
Alsina swallowed; she could barely lift her head high enough to meet his eyes. "Yes, I... uh, my sister sent me for some salted pork."
"Salted pork?" repeated the butcher with an unusual expression. It almost seemed to Alsina that he was trying to appear apologetic--trying. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, but the pig farmer won't be here for an hour or so. You'll just have to wait."
Somehow, the smell seemed just a little stronger. "Oh. Well... is there anything to do in this village?"
The butcher laughed; Alsina was reminded strangely of one of the dragons from the old bedtime stories Falidor had told her as a little girl. She'd never found them too frightening before, but perhaps she had grown cowardly in her later years. "Not really. It's a village, angel, and it isn't even midday yet--what were you expecting? Granted... a pretty girl like you could probably get the evening started early."
That was an odd thing to say--the sort of thing she'd only ever heard in her dreams. She didn't know what she thought of compliments like that during the waking day. "Oh, well... in that case, I might as well test that theory at the inn."
"Oh, I wouldn't go there if I were you," the butcher advised, pulling her into him and whispering into her ear. Alsina hastily turned and stared at the staircase; she didn't think she could handle the smell from any other angle. "The innkeeper's just as much of a drunk as the worst of his regulars."
It occurred to her that Florian and Thetis didn't live too far from this village. Perhaps she would drop by and pay them a visit. Maybe she would have Florian escort her back for the meat... or maybe to some other shop altogether. She raised her hand to his shoulder, intent on pushing herself away. "I actually just remembered something else I have to do. I should really be going--"
His hand caught her arm between wrist and elbow, the icy touch of his wedding band burning through her linen sleeve. "Please," he breathed, the moisture of his lips detectable on her flesh, "stay a while."
She watched as a few snowflakes landed on the window. Perhaps she should have brought her cloak after all.
NEXT CHAPTER:
December 31, 1164
Falidor and Nora would have been furious with her if they ever found out she had ridden alone all the way to Tetranshire after escorting Rifden to Jothein's old shop, but the way Alsina saw it, what they didn't know wouldn't hurt them. Besides, did they really just expect her to stay in Lyran Village all day? Hell, it wasn't as if she didn't go there a hundred times a year anyway... and who was she to waste such a beautiful day? Would there ever again be a New Year's Eve Day warm enough to leave one's cloak at home? Alsina somehow doubted it.Besides, Nora had asked her to fetch some meat, and Willott's shop was closed for the day--why not try this one?
Not that there was any discernible sign of meat here, other than the smell. In fact, the only indication that this was even a butcher shop was the butcher's bloody apron. Had he ever washed that thing... ever? She was almost tempted to ask him, but then he stood; dear God, he was tall! And not just tall, but big--if she commented on his personal hygiene, he'd likely smash her into pieces.Smirking, he drew nearer, the stench of the apron with him. "Haven't seen you around these parts before, miss. Can I help you?"
Alsina swallowed; she could barely lift her head high enough to meet his eyes. "Yes, I... uh, my sister sent me for some salted pork."
"Salted pork?" repeated the butcher with an unusual expression. It almost seemed to Alsina that he was trying to appear apologetic--trying. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, but the pig farmer won't be here for an hour or so. You'll just have to wait."Somehow, the smell seemed just a little stronger. "Oh. Well... is there anything to do in this village?"
The butcher laughed; Alsina was reminded strangely of one of the dragons from the old bedtime stories Falidor had told her as a little girl. She'd never found them too frightening before, but perhaps she had grown cowardly in her later years. "Not really. It's a village, angel, and it isn't even midday yet--what were you expecting? Granted... a pretty girl like you could probably get the evening started early."That was an odd thing to say--the sort of thing she'd only ever heard in her dreams. She didn't know what she thought of compliments like that during the waking day. "Oh, well... in that case, I might as well test that theory at the inn."
"Oh, I wouldn't go there if I were you," the butcher advised, pulling her into him and whispering into her ear. Alsina hastily turned and stared at the staircase; she didn't think she could handle the smell from any other angle. "The innkeeper's just as much of a drunk as the worst of his regulars."It occurred to her that Florian and Thetis didn't live too far from this village. Perhaps she would drop by and pay them a visit. Maybe she would have Florian escort her back for the meat... or maybe to some other shop altogether. She raised her hand to his shoulder, intent on pushing herself away. "I actually just remembered something else I have to do. I should really be going--"
His hand caught her arm between wrist and elbow, the icy touch of his wedding band burning through her linen sleeve. "Please," he breathed, the moisture of his lips detectable on her flesh, "stay a while."She watched as a few snowflakes landed on the window. Perhaps she should have brought her cloak after all.
NEXT CHAPTER:
