[IC] [ High Casual ] The Bristdale Port

[Khryptid]

---

Lark

---

A beggar on the streets was far from an odd sight in Bristdale, and Lark was no different to the averting eyes of the passersby. Though a few had sunk their coins into her meager cup, the others either spat in her direction or ignored her altogether. None of this was new to the small female, unfortunately. Her life seemed to be a repetition of these happenings. Everyday, it was waking, ignoring the ache in her back from sleeping in the alleys, worshipping the words of Lei in secret, and then spending the rest of the day begging for coin to buy a single roll of bread for her ever-growling stomach.

This was no life to the ones who saw her, but to Lark, it was all she knew. Other than the few rare instances in which a cook would take pity and throw her scraps, Lark lived a life of constant fasting, worshipping, and begging. She never dared to steal, even when the opportunity fell into her lap.
At one time, she foraged in the surrounding woodlands and the port, but Lark had stopped when her actions proved fruitless. For now, it was better to sit and wait than forage and just starve to death faster.

Today was a market day, where large, looming ships would come into port from the sea, unloading dozens upon dozens of pirates and other boat-dwellers. These groups would stay for a few days, trading their goods in exchange for others, then pack up and head back into the open ocean for weeks, months, sometimes even years at a time. It was a perfect opportunity to get some decent coin, and Lark took it to her advantage.

The sun had just started to reach the middle of the sky when Lark finally gained enough gold to buy a small roll. It was a glorious day indeed, for she had not been as lucky for the last few days. Standing now, Lark padded her way to one of the bakers' stands. She tried to hide the gigantic, excited smile on her face, but found it hard to. She was starving, and this baker was one of the few that accepted money from her. The rest often pushed her aside for other customers with more well-endowed coin purses.

There was a small gathering around the stand, but Lark didn't mind waiting. She stood at the back, watching the bread as it came and went. She found herself salivating a little bit at the thought of sinking her teeth into the soft flesh of a sweet roll.

While the crowd around the goodies slowly dispersed, Lark found herself stepping forward, only to have one of her bare feet accidentally land on a patron's shoe. With a look of disgust, the stranger shoved Lark away harshly before she could form an apology, effectively knocking her down and letting the coins loose amoungst the dirt of the ground. She tried to pick up her money, but was too slow as a small pack of children snatched up the shiny bits.

Feeling defeated, Lark crawled away, hiding herself in a secluded corner of the street and making herself look as small as possible.

She would just have to try...again.

[Arkitekt]

Bristdale Markets- Mid Afternoon
Galvennius-

Gal had not been in Bristdale long, having only reached the port city in the early hours of the morning. A poor stroke of luck, and an ill-fate had fallen upon his shoulders. It was not as bad as it was for his employer, or previous employer, rather. Captain Morrows had met his fate nearly a month and a half ago, a terrible accident it had been. The aft mast had snapped in half and it would've surely crushed the man, had it not impaled him first. He was accustomed to seeing such things in his lengthy career at sea, however he was not accustomed to losing his best friend. They had sailed together for over a decade. Neither of them had ever been accused of being pure souls, but as far as pirates went, they were about as pure as they came.

The rest of the crew expected him to pick up the title of captain and continue on as if nothing had happened, but something in him just would not allow him to do so. He was more than qualified and capable, but it just wasn't in him, not now, not after such a loss. Luckily for him this past trip had been lucrative enough that he wouldn't need to worry about seeking employment for at least a while. He had drank most of the morning away, and the rum and sweltering heat had all but defeated him already. One hand propped against his head and covered an eye as the other toyed with the small cup, now seasoned sweetly with the spiced rum and sticky around the rim. It was said that a sailor would drink like this when coming in from a long voyage, just to help their sea legs get acclimated to terrain that didn't roll beneath their feet. Though this was not the reason for his drinking this day.

The bottle that had been set before him had all but dried up by this time. He pulled his hand from his face and grabbed the neck of it, pouring the last of it in his cup. He returned the bottle to the table and twirled the glass about in contemplation. He was surely lost without his best mate Morrows. Lost indeed, as a ship without stars or compass to guide it. His life now a vast ocean of uncertainty. He swung himself around on his newfound perch that was his stool and watched the others around him half consciously. They were a motley bunch, and surly at that. He had been to Bristdale many times prior to this, and he was somewhat glad that nothing had changed. Even in his own current predicament he was not as sour as this lot was. He almost felt sorry for them, but at the same time he took comfort in the familiarity of it all.

His stool rotated once more as he gazed out the door of the less than desirable establishment, his hand still clasped around the cup of rum. He could see across the street to the open markets. Bristdale was known for having some of the best markets, it had this if nothing else. One could acquire just about anything the heart desired, if the coin was right. People carried on and bustled about from stall to stall, vendor to vendor. One of which was directly across from him, selling sweetloaves and rolls and the likes. It seemed busy, as did most of the market. He watched them for a while, lost in his own thoughts, a sort of limbo. A void.. He saw them, all the patrons as they bought up the breads and sweets the man had been selling. He had also seen a young woman, who looked to be a bit down on her luck, as she had been tossed aside as she fell and lost her coin. He watched as she crawled away, defeated and shamed.

He put the cup to his lips and tossed back the spiced liquid, wincing as he did. He reached down to his coin purse and produced a few coin, which he tossed aimlessly on the bar. He stood and gripped the edge of it as he got his feet under him and tried to focus his gait before venturing further. He crossed the street, barely able to keep one foot in line with the other, but he did manage to make it. He pushed his way through the small gathering of patrons and they were all disgruntled by this, though none challenged him as he drew his dagger and slammed it's point down into the planks of the table..

"Three please.." He said as he pointed to a few sweet rolls, his voice was stern and to the point.

The man was quick to produce them, wrapping them in a small bit of cloth and passing them to Gal. As he did Gal then produced a suitable payment tossing it everywhere on the vendors stall and walked away. his shoulder planted directly into another patron's, nearly knocking the man off his feet. Gal smirked and found a tiny morsel of joy in it. He took to the same direction as the young woman, though he had not kept an eye on where exactly she had gone off to. It wasn't long, or far though, before he had found her.. Hovelled up and nearly cowering from the others that passed by. He knelt, and fell a bit as he did.. still unused to the stationary ground, and the rum. He took solace in the bit of shade he found there between the buildings. He extended the bundle to the poor girl, offering it to her.

"Might want to eat a little something before you waste away.." He said, offering a half crooked smile along with the bread. "Bristdale isn't the place for scrawny birds you know.."

[Khryptid]

---

Lark

---

Trying to ignore her stomach's incessant growling, Lark's eyes caught sight of a particularly peculiar-walking man, unable to take her eyes off of him for a moment. He was handsome, rugged-looking, and obviously intoxicated, but if he was part of the sea crowd, that didn't surprise her. It was a custom for ship crews to drink as soon as they hit land; Lark remembered hearing something about it helping them grow more accustomed to solid ground.

Not being one to judge, she watched the man with interest flavouring her honeyed eyes. She had always been a little envious of sea dwellers, both magical and mundane, for the sea looked so much more promising, so much more free than Bristdale. Sure, the port was full of possibilities, if you had the right coin. For someone like Lark, it was a prison, a ball and chain fastened to her ankle, their metallic clinking the same as it was in her cup of meager coins. It was all a trap for her. Out there, though, adventure was waiting behind ever wave. Money didn't matter to them, or did it? She wasn't sure what their culture was like.

It had to have been promising, though, judging by the pirate's next actions. To this day, he was one of only a tiny handful of people to approach her, and the only one yet to offer her food. At first, the man startled her with his sudden stumble, her body jolting in response. She had just watched him shove past one of the peasants who had snatched her coin, and while she appreciated it, Lark was a little hesitant to trust the man outright. His offerings, however, silenced all that reluctance. Not one roll, not two, but three sweetrolls he offered to her. It was so beautiful that the female started to tear up, her small hands reaching up to grasp one of the delicious bread hunks.

It practically melted in her mouth as soon as her tongue met the spongy flesh of the roll, its sweet flavour sending her tastebuds into a chorus of happiness. For a moment, she just listened to him speak, enjoying the roll to the last bite.

"You treat me with a kindness I haven't seen the likes of in a while, stranger," she murmured finally, shying away from the rest of the bread, "but I cannot accept the rest. Indulgence is not something I should get used to. Besides, you were the one to buy them. You should have the majority." Even in the face of famine, Lark refused to take all of the bread, leaving the last two rolls to him. "I hope you do not take this as an offensive gesture. The gods smile upon your generosity." Her smile was bright against her dirty skin and matted hair, almost as bright as those golden irises of hers.

She looked down at herself, wondering what about her resembled an avian creature. Perhaps it was how thin she was? If the wind wished, it surely could pick her up and fling her to and fro, as if it hadn't done so already, but she wouldn't comment on that. Instead, she looked up at him with her large eyes. "May I ask why you chose to take pity on me?"