cormac's notebook. (curagad) wrote in emillion, |
As expected, the Bazaar was lively, moreso than usual. Everywhere Ridley turned, it seemed like a new person was in her path to smack into, leaving her nerves shot and desire for social interaction drastically depleted. The intention had been to sneak out before the crowds grew too large, but even at nine that morning, the city was alive and bustling and suffocating. Being a natural introvert, the scholar shied between the taller folk, desperately hoping for a familiar face.
At last she reached a stall that was not terribly busy, and glued herself into place, waiting for her heart to resume beating normally. Crowds were far more bearable with a friend at her side. Praying it would distract her, she busied herself with scanning the freshly picked apples.
There was no better time for a familiar face to show up.