[Bread and Boredom]

[Preservation]

"Yeah, it’s... yeah. I'll see you around."

"Sure thing!"

With a slight jingle from brand new handmade bells, the door to Cushari’s bakery swung shut in a cloud of newly-fallen ash. As soon as the customer was out of sight she sighed and slumped into the chair behind the register. For a moment she watched the ash flutter over the heap that had already formed just beyond the doorway, then plunked her elbows on the counter and her eyes against the heels of her hands. Another person, another sale, another cake for her to replace. Another half-hour—or hour, or three—of waiting for the next flurry of money and temporary companionship.

Normally, Cu didn’t mind spending time here. Baked goods were the things she knew best, and it could be immensely soothing to bustle about in the kitchen or arrange a new display. It had been a bad week, though, and today the monotony was starting to get to her. This store was built for more than one person, and having so much empty space to herself was, in its way, even more suffocating than her cramped house.

The recent ashfall didn’t help. They never did; even years after the fact, unexplained phenomena sent a sharp pang to the piece of Ri’s heart that had shattered with the idea of being a Keeper. Surely they knew what made the mountains spout black clouds, and perhaps if they didn’t, she could have...

But no. Cushari pushed herself upright and hopped off the chair, giving herself a mental kick as she did so. This was her life, and she had realized that years ago. It was about time she accepted it, too. Running about the land, giving up everything to preserve knowledge and protect the future, was a life for more capable people to leave. My lot, she told herself firmly as she slipped into the back room to find a few pastries that could fill the hole left by her last customer, is bread and jewelry and Tathingdwen. No more, no less. And it’s good. Better than anything I’d find elsewhere, at least.

It was, too. No one needed to have seen Luthadel or a plantation to know that belonging to a noble family was the about the only way for a human to get treated better than the people of Terris. Perhaps they didn’t have much freedom, but death by starvation wasn’t so common in Tathingdwen, and beatings weren’t routine occurrences.

Even so, as she shuffled back into the front of the store, she couldn’t help shooting a glance at the window and wondering for the millionth time whether the sky in Luthadel was as grey and dark as it was here.


((First Terris thread, hurrah! :D Post quality will improve as the thread moves forward, I swear.))

[Ruin]

I took a walk around the world
To ease my troubled mind

Two months. Two long aching months of canal rides up and down and then, for seemingly no reason at all, up again. Alphonze understood the reason why Turner had sent him to the large cities up north. Studying the latest fashions as well as improving their reputation was a good idea, in fact Al had initially supported the proposal. Until learning that he was the one being sent. Turner’s excuse was “Sending the best dress maker we have will give a better impression then sending one of the blubbering hand-maids who think they can sew.” Al had, regrettably, seen his point.

After months of nobles and giggling females he was actually looking forward to Tathingdwen where Turner had instructed him to learn about, and make sketches of, steward’s robes. The Terris people were known for being polite and wouldn’t talk his ear off. Now the only problem was finding a good Inn. Looking around at the shop fronts Al heard a jingle from one of the doors as it opened, then just as quickly closed.

Well, it’s as good as any other, Al thought sadly. Trudging over to the door he took a deep breath then grasped the handle firmly and pulled. He hadn’t even read the sign above the door but the smell of bread and sugar told him it was a bakery of some sort. Blinking to adjust his eyes to the light Al saw a Terris woman and quickly, before he could convince himself not to, he asked the dread question.

“M-ms. Do you know a good hotel nearby?” It spilled out quickly, haltingly but somehow Al managed to get all the words out. Directions weren’t manly, if anything they decreased his masculinity even more but all the same Al needed them.


Lyrics from Kryptonite by 3 Doors Down

[Preservation]

As the last plat of scones slid into place and Cushari extracted herself from the case, her bells rang out once more. Surprised by the arrival of another customer so soon after the last one, she closed the case quickly and turned around to find a tall figure standing in the doorway. With a brief bow and a slight wave, Cushari opened her mouth, fully prepared to give her usual welcoming spiel.

Before she could begin, though, the stranger's voice cut her off. Half-formed words fell over themselves in their haste to rush back down Cu's throat before her quiet gasp could suffocate them. From his clothing and height, she had automatically assumed this stranger was a noble; the few skaa Cushari had seen in her life were servants, and they rarely wore much better than rags. As soon as he opened his mouth, however, her initial impression collapsed in on itself. Enough of the Central accent she was used to from nobles lingered in his voice for her to guess his home, but there was a roughness to it that suggested a much less prestigious birth. The dichotomy was so distracting that Cushari forgot to be flustered by the fact that she had been addressed as Miss.

Questions immediately started firing at the back of her mind. Cu bit her tongue, hoping it would stem the tide; while doing so kept her from talking, it did little in the way of diverting her train of thought. How in the name of the Final Empire did you acquire clothing like that if you're skaa? Are you skaa? Does the reality of Luthadel's situation differ from what I have been told? What might-

Cu realized she was staring and looked down quickly, partially to force herself to end contact and partially to hide the blush heating her face. It was unbecoming to scrutinize someone who—skaa or not—was so evidently ranked above her. She had a duty to travelers—to everyone, really—and she was doing a poor job of fulfilling it.

What had he said? Hotels. Nearby. Did he want one? Cushari straightened her neck and gave him a once-over. Slumping just a bit, looking pained. Yes, there was little doubt that he was lost. Well, then. They could do something about that.

"No, sir. N-not offhand," she murmured. "I have never needed one." Actually, she had stayed in inns occasionally, but not in such a long time that she wasn't sure they would be in the same places anymore. Somehow, she doubted those inns would have been the sort he was looking for, anyway; when she was destitute and desperate, Cu had only been able to stay in the cheapest possible inns, and even then only when she had to because of inclement weather. While Terris wasn't known for its lackluster buildings, meaning that even the lower-class hotels were decently stable, he seemed too refined to go for something that modest. Then again, who knew? She didn't work with travelers; what was she to know about the values of a skaa (noble?) in a suit? Who was she to assume that she knew anything about travelers at all, when she had spent her entire life locked in one blueprint? "Please, accept my apologies."

Most likely, she could have left it at that. The well-dressed stranger would have gone on his way, and Cushari would have gone back to her pastries and puttering. But she was Terris-born, bred and raised to serve others any way she could, and the fact that she was unable to help this man tugged at her like a small but angry dog. Leaving a superior lost was a breach of every code she had been molded to accept, and her entire being screamed against it. Surely there was something-

"If you would prefer," she found herself blurting, "I could go with you to find one. I know this section of Tathingdwen well." For that matter, she knew all of Tathingdwen as well as her recipes, its street names and addresses imprinted on her mind like ingredients and measurements. Years in the same city will do that to you, especially if that city happens to be laid out as sensibly as the Terris capital. Truthfully, that same gridlike design ought to be enough of a guide for this visitor. Even first-time arrivals rarely needed much more than an occasional prod in the right direction, especially if they knew what they were looking for. He was lost, though, now wasn’t he? So it only made sense to offer...

If she was to be completely honest with herself, self-imposed duty was not the only thing keeping her in this conversation. Part of her, despite years of conditioning, was still selfish enough to be curious—and part of her, though the Lord Ruler knew she had tried to quash it, didn't want him to go because he was a connection to the outside world and even the slightest bit of conversation might give her insight to what things were like out there.

[Ruin]

Sometimes the things I say
In moments of disarray

The woman stared at him for a moment than glanced down. She was definitely questioning his manliness. Alphonze’s self-esteem dropped to one of the lowest levels it had ever been before. Even Terrispeople, the kindest and most helpful people in all of the Final Empire, could tell that he was a failure. The weight of such a realization caused Al to slump and look down at his shoes. He was about to rush out of the shop in an embarrassed flurry and spend hours walking through the streets looking for any tavern that sold alcohol when the Terriswoman spoke.

"No, sir. N-not offhand,"

Sir…, Al slowly looked up. Sir is manly. Right? The gloomy cloud in Al’s mind was cleared by this single ray of sunshine. No one called him sir! A beaming smile replaced the self-conscious frown on his face. Sir, Al thought again to himself. I’m a sir… I love Terris! This word distracted Al so much he almost missed what the woman said next. "-ve never needed one."

Then what the woman had said sunk in and Al’s happiness was completely obliterated by the idea of asking for directions again. Especially if he ended up asking a male. They would definitely question his masculinity, even Terrismen would think him pathetic for having to ask for directions. Al had been so distracted by his worries he had missed what the lady had said. Al mentally scolded himself for his self-loathing. This woman had called him ‘Sir,’ and even if she couldn't give him directions her words deserved his attention.

"If you would prefer," she said suddenly, "I could go with you to find one. I know this section of Tathingdwen well." Al realized then that he obviously hadn’t been paying much attention to the shop keeper in the first place. She wasn’t much shorter than him, jingled with jewelry, had a Tathingdwen accent, with its refined air. She was… Terris…. Al gaped at his idiocy for a moment. She had grown up in Tathingdwen. She had what Al had come here for, Terris Cloths!! The words tumbled out before Al realized what he was saying. “Thank you so much, but a-actually, can I borrow your cloths?” A few seconds passed before Al put the words he said together. Borrow your cloths… “Er, t-that’s not as weird as it sounded.”

[/size]

Lyrics from Everything Changes by Staind[/blockquote]

[Preservation]

"You wish to make loan of my clothing?" The words burst from Cushari before she had a chance to stop them; she clamped her mouth shut, but it was too late to retract the exclamation. In her confusion, she cared less than she usually would have. Everyone Cushari had known since birth tended to form thoughts that followed logical trails, so such an abrupt turn threw her for a loop—not to mention the awkward nature of the request. Friends rarely asked to borrow her clothes for any reason, let alone total strangers, and Cu wasn't entirely sure how she felt about it. Self-conscious, certainly—every inch of her skin was now acutely aware of the soft fabric and skin-warmed metal that lay against it, and she found herself breathing shallowly so that she didn't make noise—but beyond that, it was just bizarre.

The stranger seemed to realize this as well. A tiny, sympathetic smile touched Cushari's round face as he backtracked verbally. "I am sure you have reasonable motives, sir," she told him, bowing slightly. Actually, she wasn't at all certain. This man was as strange as his accent; it was probably better to reserve any judgments about it, positive or negative. But she had nothing to gain by offending her visitor, especially since the poor man was already so flustered that he had forgotten his original goal. (Or had he? Obviously she didn't get this man's mind at all. Maybe he no longer needed lodging, although why that would be the case, she couldn't say. She would ask, once they had dealt with this... whatever this was.)

For a split second she considered telling him that she didn't have anything to give him. It was untrue—she always kept a few sets in the back of the shop so that she could change in the event of a spill—but it would let her dance away from the awkward question. Before Cushari could announce this, however, a rush of shame hit her. This man was asking for assistance; that she did not understand it was no reason to avoid obliging him. "If you want jewelry, I only have what I wear now, but I keep spare clothes in the back," she said, gesturing at the kitchen and adjoining storage room behind her. "If you would follow, or wait here..." She gave another brief bow and began walking away, keeping herself turned slightly toward him both out of politeness and to see whether or not he was coming. Most people she knew would wait in the storefront if the seller needed to retrieve something from storage, but there was no saying how these things worked in Luthadel, and she would rather observe his approach than run the risk of him hitting something hot.

[Ruin]

OOC: It's not one of my best posts but it'll do. I'll put in lyrics later.

Smiling. Smiling was good. As was the wonderful ‘sir’ she attached to the end of the sentence. Sir, Al thought happily once again. This woman was wonderful to him despite his blunders and odd behavior. He wasn’t used to people treating him nicely. Nobles wanted his help and nothing more. His employer teased and degraded him constantly. The seamstresses he worked with always giggled behind his back and other skaa never liked talking to him. No one treated him with respect, maybe it was his feminine occupation. That had to be it. Of course it had to be.

This woman was nice though; the way she quietly stood and called him sir. She even trusted his motives despite his awkward blabbering. There was only one conclusion: she could see his manliness. It was the only explanation that explained her incredibly polite mannerisms. It wasn’t because she was Terris of course, even they wouldn’t be respectful to him since he was such a wimp. So the only answer was that, somehow, she was able to see the manliness buried deep, deep, within him.

Al looked at her with something close to awe in his eyes as she offered to go get the clothes. Now that Al knew she was a one of the only person who could see his manliness he wouldn’t let her out of his sight. She could get kidnapped, or fall… or… well something could happen, so Al couldn’t let her out of his sight “W-wait for me!” he hurried to catch up to her and was attempting to talk at the same time. “My name’s Al by the way. Thank you s-“

The sudden stop was caused by several things. The pan was just the trigger for the chain reaction that followed. It wasn’t hot, thankfully, but a corner protruded slightly from the counter. Al’s arms, gangly as always, had caught the corner and sent it toppling forward. Hoping to avoid the metallic crash it would surely make when it hit the floor Al reached out to grab it. The action sent him toppling forward, arms splayed, which of course knocked over several other pots and pans from the nearby counters. Amazingly each and every one of these pots landed right on top of Al’s outstretched body that had landed hard on the floor just a few moments before.

At this point he was feeling various emotions. Guilt for having knocked over the wonderful lady’s pots and pans. A deep self-loathing for his uncoordination. But most of all his mind was filled with the pain of large heavy metal things hitting his back. Only after the metal avalanche’s noise had stopped did Al push himself off the floor, wincing from the horrible aches on his back and the bruises that would surely form there. Still kneeling on the floor Al stared sheepishly at the floor. “Miss. I’m so sorry. T-things like this tend to happen to me…”

[Preservation]

Though she had suggested it to begin with, allowing the stranger to follow her made Cushari a little nervous. Few people were allowed beyond her counter, less for fear of theft (Terris people were too well-bred—and well-trained—for that, and Obligators had better sources than small if respected shops) and more out of concern for her meticulously organized kitchen. Every pot, utensil, ingredient, and spice had its place, and while this man didn't seem to be interested in mucking about with her setup, one never knew what could happen. She could hardly turn him away, however, especially immediately after extending an invitation, so Cu shrugged mentally and went on her way, resolving as she did so to steer him away from active ovens and fragile jars.

She nodded at the name, but waited to offer hers in case he had more to say. As luck would have it, he did—but his foolish nonsense (imagine, thanking her!) would never be completed. Earlier in the day, a customer had come into the store while Cushari was pulling out a cupcake pan, and in her haste she had set it down sloppily and forgotten about it. Now, Al managed to catch it at just the wrong angle, sending both the pan and himself toppling.

A less-than-refined screech burst from her throat at the sight. Guilt flashed through her almost simultaneously, for with the cry she realized that her first worry was not toward her guest, as it should be, but toward her own tools. Deliberate mental insults swirled around in the baker's head as she forced her horrified gaze away from the tumbling cookware. Seeing her visitor sprawled out across the floor was enough to both double her shame and, an instant later, make her forget it. The entire metal salvo appeared to have crashed down on him, judging by the number of pans that were still rolling, sliding, or bouncing off of his back. That could not be-

To Cu's infinite relief, Al picked himself up. His actions pointed toward an already-tender back, and he sounded incredibly sheepish, but he looked more or less all right. With a tiny sigh, Cushari picked up a small pot that had rolled against her foot and shook her head. "Worry not, A-Al." The lack of a title threw her, but she recovered quickly. "If you are uninjured, then there is no problem." Her hands contradicted the words, running over ever inch of the pot they held in search of even the slightest dent, and she hoped that Al wouldn't take away the wrong message. Truly, she wasn't angry. Accidents happened, even in Terris and especially to strangers in Terris. Sure, a few things may have incurred slight damage, but nothing had taken a major fall and he hadn't gotten the spices. There wasn't even any batter on the ground; every single fallen object, so far as she could tell, was clean. Attempting to reinforce her verbal message, Cushari set the apparently-intact pot on the counter and knelt so she could look at the man face-to-face. "You are moving well; shall I take this to mean that you are more or less unscathed?"