lambknight (lambknight) wrote in emillion, @ 2013-04-07 15:53:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !group thread, almalexia lliryn, aspel cassul, maria refresion, peony min |
Who: Maria, Peony, Almalexia, Aspel
Where: Café du ciel rose
When: Early afternoon, after mass
What: The ladies must lunch
Rating: This party does not take kindly to your baser suggestions
Status: Serene ... and complete-ish
From ashes and blood do flowers grow. The café was famous for its sad story and, it was rumored, to have been the party of many happy beginnings. Serna had grown a bit thicker and grey in hair, but Maria thought she was still beautiful, still refined. Once a celebrated dancer, love had led her to a buthcer and his tiny wooden shop wedged between noble facades in the Nobles district, its back perhced on a high wall that bordered a beautiful boardwalk peppered with small parks. A fire took her husband and his shop, but what Faram would take he would replace with opportunity. She cried in that shop, she said, heavy with child and eyes filled with tears, but even then the glory of a sunset still moved something inside her.
In grief she carried the ashes away on her own and replaced them with two simple tables. People came to drink tea with her and thanked her with coin until she ran out of tea. The next day she returned with more. Her business grew like the seed in her womb - organically. Now her daughter sailed amongst the tables, a beautiful long necked pitcher in one hand to refill glasses. Serna saw over her exotic blends like a chemist. Nearly every day people came for the view, the sweet smells, and the restfulness of the atmosphere. Fragrant vines crawled up the buildings around them. The tables were delicately wrought iron and the chairs cushioned with simply hay and heavy canvas - a welcome respite for those wearing armor.
Maria loved it here more than possibly anywhere else in the city, but the Church. How many days had she spent sitting there, watching the sky and contemplating. She may have very well been dressed as she was then, in white linen pants and light tan knee-high boots. Her flaming red hair was tamed well with a brush and left to hang, unadorned. She wore a simple white linen gambeson partially covered by her sword belt, which also hung her buckler, and her medal of Faram. Massday was the only day she did not wear her armor.
Serna's daughter brought Maria a cup of tea without her needing to hail. Her intimacy with the owners was the only way a woman like her could get an invitation for this Massday. The square below was bustling with festival preparations. "Peony." Maria raised her hand in greeting to bring her over, expecting the others would not be very far behind.