Though for some the morning rays of sun doubtlessly shone upon them with comfortable warmth, or at least a pleasant and natural radiance, no sunbeams gladdened the heart of the figure in the field. To onlookers, the features of the person hobbling among the rows of crops, bucket in hand, could not be seen beneath her blue, hooded raincoat—aside from the fairly obvious fact of her sex. Even her face lay mostly hidden beneath long strands of red hair. Nevertheless, Belle Osburn seemed totally unbothered by the heat and apparent lack of rain. Instead, she looked thoroughly committing to scattering compost from her bucket into the soil and poking it in with a thin oak staff.
When at last she'd gone between every stretch of the field and ingrained the dirt with fertilizing nutrients, Belle made her way from the field, exchanging the filthy bucket for a new one and leaving the staff to lean against the fence. As somber as ever, she trudged down the road, avoiding the eyes of any villagers she came across. By now, the townsfolk knew Belle to be a quiet and reticent young woman, and did not trouble her with any more intrusion than genial 'good morning's. Tanjozo's main well lay smack in the center of the village, but Belle spurned the streets leading there, instead making her slow, methodical way to a closer and more convenient source of water: Cuttlefish Bathhouse.
A few moments before Belle would have reached the threshold, the Librarium disgorged its thunderclap of sound, resulting shockwave, and a miasma of multicolored smog. The impact of the blast on her ears and bones caused Belle to jump in surprise, crying out in alarm as she did, and accidentally throw her bucket a few meters away. By the time her heart's pounding descended to a more normal level, the bucket had begun to roll down a sloped street. Cursing beneath her breath, Belle abandoned her usual reserved solemnity to chase after the object, and ran with arms outstretched to it while it clunk-clunk-clunked down the road.
Only a few seconds later, the rogue bucket hit a stone in the road and flew off course, veering into a grassy little ditch where it came to an abrupt halt. Belle stooped down and retrieved it, the strain making her realize how tired she felt. To be fair, she had been up since before dawn, and the advent of the midday sun would end her work for the day on account of heat, but still she felt disappointed in herself that she couldn't weather the fatigue any better. She straightened herself up again, brushed the hair out of her eyes with her knuckles to settle beneath her hood, and sat down on the opposite side of the ditch. A stream of clean, mildly scented water flowed down the miniature half-pipe, headed from the bathhouse at the top of the slight hill to eventually empty into Blumen Pond, way downhill in the midst of a great many trees. Belle slipped off her boots and immersed her sore feet into the little stream. In a few minutes she'd head up to the bathhouse to request some clean water, but for now she contented herself with watching the colorful clouds sweep over Tanjozo with a silent, vacant face.
When at last she'd gone between every stretch of the field and ingrained the dirt with fertilizing nutrients, Belle made her way from the field, exchanging the filthy bucket for a new one and leaving the staff to lean against the fence. As somber as ever, she trudged down the road, avoiding the eyes of any villagers she came across. By now, the townsfolk knew Belle to be a quiet and reticent young woman, and did not trouble her with any more intrusion than genial 'good morning's. Tanjozo's main well lay smack in the center of the village, but Belle spurned the streets leading there, instead making her slow, methodical way to a closer and more convenient source of water: Cuttlefish Bathhouse.
A few moments before Belle would have reached the threshold, the Librarium disgorged its thunderclap of sound, resulting shockwave, and a miasma of multicolored smog. The impact of the blast on her ears and bones caused Belle to jump in surprise, crying out in alarm as she did, and accidentally throw her bucket a few meters away. By the time her heart's pounding descended to a more normal level, the bucket had begun to roll down a sloped street. Cursing beneath her breath, Belle abandoned her usual reserved solemnity to chase after the object, and ran with arms outstretched to it while it clunk-clunk-clunked down the road.
Only a few seconds later, the rogue bucket hit a stone in the road and flew off course, veering into a grassy little ditch where it came to an abrupt halt. Belle stooped down and retrieved it, the strain making her realize how tired she felt. To be fair, she had been up since before dawn, and the advent of the midday sun would end her work for the day on account of heat, but still she felt disappointed in herself that she couldn't weather the fatigue any better. She straightened herself up again, brushed the hair out of her eyes with her knuckles to settle beneath her hood, and sat down on the opposite side of the ditch. A stream of clean, mildly scented water flowed down the miniature half-pipe, headed from the bathhouse at the top of the slight hill to eventually empty into Blumen Pond, way downhill in the midst of a great many trees. Belle slipped off her boots and immersed her sore feet into the little stream. In a few minutes she'd head up to the bathhouse to request some clean water, but for now she contented herself with watching the colorful clouds sweep over Tanjozo with a silent, vacant face.
