Would only a heart be a script Who: Cian and Maria What: Cian finds Maria vulnerable! Where: ... at Harvey's Greengrocery When: Dusk Rating: PG for referencing violence (Cian wouldn't dare in front of a lady!) Status: Completed
The stall was always so clean. Harvey's mother didn't speak much, but she smiled often. Her life must be filled with constant visions of dust and dirt. Though the stalls were in a covered recess of a building, it was still an open space. Her constant battle against incoming dirt amongst the polished wood panels, the worn cobblestones and stone floors, even amongst their awnings was well fought. On days were the breeze was silent you might even catch her polishing apples.
It was an effective selling tactic. Maria had been drawn to its shining cleanliness. A pineapple poised like a marble figure, the dark pits of potatoes turned away, the best kiwis lain on top. It was then a mystery how it all seemed so quaint, now that she had found Faram's greatest grown product in the shop - the shopkeeper himself. Maria had a lifetime of training her voice, her face, her visage, her attitude into calmness. Faram granted her a great mercy with her ability to quiet her own soul.
Imagine then, her curiousity that her body no longer obeyed her but for the way one single man she barely knew. The way he bunched apples, so deftly like a juggler. The way his ruddy cheeks formed two crescent moons when he smiled, which was often. Even the way he said passionfruit, during the warm seasons. She was undone, her prayers evacuating her mind. Truly, he was there to humble her, just a woman struggling to serve a greater cause the best her limited mind could.
Maria was investigating a honeydew melon slowly. Turning it over on one side and listening to it - the way you were meant to. She was very bad at pantomime and even worse at hiding her intentions. A painfully obvious ploy to appear busy while she took peeks at the man over the mountain of watermelons in a high cart between them. A dark cloud intterupted her thoughts, cutting off the sun's light and blotting out her sunny din. Nevermind the sky already turning pink.
Maria of the honeydews. She held the melon like a talisman dear, cupped in both hands, one gauntleted still and the other not. She was still in full armor. "Cian, lovely meet." For what it was worth, she meant it, even if she was flustered. Well, for Maria, anyhow, which put her squarely into placid territory. Her eyes immediately darted across his body, assessing any possible damage he was still showing. Last time they had seen one another she left him to the greater care of medics who had assured her of his continued living.