Who: Cian Wilde and Storm Kapur What: A brief encounter Where: Bazaars When: Today Rating: G Status: Complete
The Bazaar District was in the process of being decked out for Faram’s Mass already, and the crowds were thicker than normal. Cian suspected that people started their preparations earlier every year; Holy Saints was barely behind them, and already, this. He supposed the cutpurses in the crowd were having the time of their lives, and he could hardly blame them. Might as well take advantage of the bounty. He had his own money in the pocket inside his jacket, which would be hard to reach.
Didn’t stop the enterprising ones from trying, though. The kid who barreled into him didn’t have much in the way of finesse, but Cian had to assume pickpocket -- at least, until the papers the boy was carrying went flying everywhere, which had the gambler reassessing the situation. Not a clumsy thief -- just clumsy.
“I sincerely apologise!” the kid began, immediately ducking his head. He struggled to collect the papers, upon which notes on elementary white magicks were written in penmanship that was as clumsy as its owner. The boy had managed to recover half his pile by the time he looked up. The remainder of his notes were scattered further out on the road, some distance behind the man he’d happened to bump into. Already, passers-by were beginning to eye the sheets with interest. One of whom, another boy, seemed as though he was about to pick them off the pavement and run off.
The boy’s eyes widened. “I—excuse me, but b-behind you—”
“Behind me?” Cian turned just in time to see another kid -- this one more likely to be an actual pickpocket -- considering a few of the scattered pages. A flat look from Cian was, fortunately, enough to have him reconsidering this idea and melting back into the crowd, some of whom were already treading on the papers.
With a sigh, he bent over to grab the few pages that were immediately in range. He couldn’t immediately discern the subject matter when he glanced over them. “Where’s the fire, kid?” he asked as he collected them. It wasn’t like it was much of an effort, and the boy looked fairly distraught.
“I…” The boy swallowed. “I did not mean to inconvenience you, is all.”
Trying to move past his embarrassment, the boy assisted Cian in retrieving the rest of the pages. “But thank you very much for assisting me. Without these notes, I would have lost quite an amount of progress. My understanding of magicks is… slow in the coming.” Realising he had not yet introduced himself, he was then quick to remedy the oversight, “My name is Storm Kapur, by the by. May I ask for yours?”
Some people felt the need to fill up silences with words, one way or another; Cian had a notion this boy was one of them. He’d only asked rhetorically why the kid was rushing -- in exchange, he’d gotten a name, an explanation of the papers, and an admission of difficulty learning, all delivered with the sort of earnestness he had never felt. The name Kapur tugged at his memory, but he couldn’t place it.
“Cian Wilde,” he answered. Generally, he didn’t bother lying about his name -- or avoiding giving it -- unless he thought the person he was speaking to might find some way to use it; he doubted this hapless boy would ever have heard it before, or would indeed recall it a day or two hence.
“Wouldn’t want to start over,” he agreed. “I think that’s all of them,” he said, handing back the somewhat rumpled and dirty stack he’d retrieved.
“Many thanks again,” Storm said. With a flustered but respectful nod, the boy went on his way.