Post by Deleted on Sept 7, 2015 0:53:25 GMT -5
The markets were abustle with various artisans, shopkeepers, errand boys, nobles, merchants, and all manner of people going about their business and admiring the wares set up in various stalls and shops all through and around and beyond the square. Truth be told, one man stood out even among the sizable crowd. It was not his height (surely not, as he was not particularly tall compared with the men of Archadeans who passed on either side of him), nor his dress that significantly set him apart (though his choice of dress was, in a sense, ostentatious for a man of his station). No, it was his features, quite foreign to those around him, that set him apart and drew many looks from the people who had never seen anyone like him.
Shiro was, of course, accustomed to the staring and the pointing and the impertinent questioning. At this point, he found it hard to be offended by the manners of the people he had come to live among. Rather, the young man from Sokoku looked at every interaction as a means of understanding this new land and these new people, so distant in their ways from the life he had left behind, with its formality and riches... and sadness. Shiro was not nobility here––he worked for House Deliambre, and was, in the eyes of most noblemen of Archades, a member of the merchant class. He had few connections or prospects to speak of, outside his work with the Deliambre, but this did not upset him in the slightest. Shiro had talents––the gift of a sharp mind and fine education, the kind only a child of an aristocrat, as he was, could afford in Sokoku.
As the foreigner made his way down the street to the center of the square, he noticed an elderly shopkeeper having a hard time lifting some boxes from a cart down to the open room where he would doubtless be unloading them to his shelves and various displays. Shiro stepped up and placed a hand on one of the boxes before the old man found himself at risk of dropping it.
"Please," Shiro said in his now thinly-accented voice, "Allow me to assist." The shopkeeper thanked Shiro and allowed the young man to unload the few boxes into his store. Then, once the task was complete, Shiro gave a respectful bow in the Archadean style and dismissed himself. The old man was all smiles as the foreigner left, and that made Shiro feel good. He enjoyed helping others. It was his way to make up for the little bit of sunlight he had stolen from the world, through his selfish actions...
His reminiscing was cut short, however, when a handkerchief of lovely quality drifted towards his feet. Stooping, Shiro picked it up and examined it for a moment before looking up to see if he could spot the person who had dropped such a fine piece of cloth and ascertain whether or not they were aware of its loss, as of yet.
@gwyneveredeschenes Juliette Deveraux
Shiro was, of course, accustomed to the staring and the pointing and the impertinent questioning. At this point, he found it hard to be offended by the manners of the people he had come to live among. Rather, the young man from Sokoku looked at every interaction as a means of understanding this new land and these new people, so distant in their ways from the life he had left behind, with its formality and riches... and sadness. Shiro was not nobility here––he worked for House Deliambre, and was, in the eyes of most noblemen of Archades, a member of the merchant class. He had few connections or prospects to speak of, outside his work with the Deliambre, but this did not upset him in the slightest. Shiro had talents––the gift of a sharp mind and fine education, the kind only a child of an aristocrat, as he was, could afford in Sokoku.
As the foreigner made his way down the street to the center of the square, he noticed an elderly shopkeeper having a hard time lifting some boxes from a cart down to the open room where he would doubtless be unloading them to his shelves and various displays. Shiro stepped up and placed a hand on one of the boxes before the old man found himself at risk of dropping it.
"Please," Shiro said in his now thinly-accented voice, "Allow me to assist." The shopkeeper thanked Shiro and allowed the young man to unload the few boxes into his store. Then, once the task was complete, Shiro gave a respectful bow in the Archadean style and dismissed himself. The old man was all smiles as the foreigner left, and that made Shiro feel good. He enjoyed helping others. It was his way to make up for the little bit of sunlight he had stolen from the world, through his selfish actions...
His reminiscing was cut short, however, when a handkerchief of lovely quality drifted towards his feet. Stooping, Shiro picked it up and examined it for a moment before looking up to see if he could spot the person who had dropped such a fine piece of cloth and ascertain whether or not they were aware of its loss, as of yet.
@gwyneveredeschenes Juliette Deveraux