Who

Zisiene

What

Isie wakes to find someone trying to steal a painting of her brother E'bert and his dragon Karkath.

Mourning

When

Shortly after A Baker's Farewell

Where

Rooftops

OOC Date 19 Jan 2018 05:00

 

The painting is hers!



Rooftops

If you can find the handholds to haul your way up - and there are plenty, if you know where to look - then there is a hidden highway of tile and adobe that waits for knowing travellers to tread its path.A road best travelled by those sure of foot and able to stomach the occasional leap between buildings without falling victim to vertigo, the rooftops represent a quick and possibly convenient way of travelling about the bazaar; though don't be surprised if there's the odd shady opportunist willing to take a risk this high above what law lies below.

The view from up here is spectacular; rooftops, sun-bleached, weathered, beaten by time, spread like an uneven patchwork quilt from here to the very borders of the bazaar. Some flat, some tiled, some frequented and some abandoned - it's not unusual to find the odd potted garden, stored goods or even a precious chicken coop, locked down to protect the feathered denizens within its thread-protected casing.

The sounds of the bazaar are muffled, the scents blissfully so too, making it a potentially pleasant little getaway for those in need of a little peace and quiet to observe the skies, to travel the high walkways, or to simply soak in some of Rukbat's rays.


Huddled under a closed window atop a long unused building a small figure clutches in her hands a rolled canvas, and two aprons. Tears have long since stopped rolling down the woman's face, but the tracks can still be seen. She'll stay where she is for a little while as she gathers herself again.

When she does stand, Zisiene runs along the rooftops completely unsure of where she's going to go. Where can she go now? At some level she knows that she has a place, and there are people who would be willing to help her through. It just isn't her way to ask for help, and at the moment she's just not capable of thinking things through.

There, just ahead. Feet find the exact spot on the tiling, and Zisiene launches herself across to the opposite rooftop. How long ago had it been since she'd escaped from this very building? It will work for her to hide in, at least for now. At some point Isie will have to decide if she's going back to the caravan, or if she's going to move along. For now? Well for now Isie's going to curl up in that corner, and go to sleep.

She comes awake slowly as the cold settles deep into her body. Zisiene begins to shudder from the cold, then to absolutely shake. Still she remains where she is. Still as can be expected with the cold seeping ever deeper into her body. She was alone now. No Ravene. No E'bert, and his beautiful Karkath. No one who cared about her. She was wrong about that of course, but her mind couldn't grasp the concept. Alone. Alone. Alone. The word was caught on a loop in her mind, and as much as she wanted to Isie could not pull away from it.

A tug at the canvas she clutched, brings her awake again. Without thought she drops a blade into her hand, and hurls it at whatever is tugging at that canvas. The canvas. The one painted by Erikkhan of her brother and his brown. E'bert scrubbing Karkath by the lake. Karkath trying to preen, and look all magnificent for the artist. Suds from the soapsand covering most of the brown's still growing body.

Thunk! The sound her knife makes as it sinks into the wall, “Hey! Watch it!” a voice growls, and another blade is hurled at the intruder. The painting is hers! She'll die to protect it. It's hers. It's the only thing she has left of her brother other than his belt knife. The second blade sinks into the wall next to the first, and is followed by the sound of someone retreating, “It's mine,” Isie says softly, before sinking back into a fitful sleep.

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