Vivian
“Yes, I promise I’ll stay nearby,” I laughed under the intensity of Theo’s stare.
We stood where the markets met the neighborhoods. Theo said he had some people to talk to, but seemed to be wrestling with whether to bring me with him or not. I touched the fabric clipped around my neck and winked at him, a reminder I was just one’s everyday Pyran out on the town.
My other hand clutched the list of items that would soon fill the satchel crossing my body.
I hadn’t gone on a shopping spree since I was a kid.
I was about to tear this town the fuck up with years of repressed spending urges.
These heavy-ass Trebianna coins Theo gave me were burning a hole in my pockets—and weighing my dress down.
“Alright, I’ll find you as soon as I’m done.”
I saluted, turned on my heels, and made my way into the crowd of people—not giving him another moment to second guess himself.
It was pretty strange being surrounded by what every fiber of my being told me were monsters, but not as strange as I thought it’d be.
Hell, I’d been so tired last night I’d barely noticed the werewolf—no, Lychan—manning the hotel check-in.
Today, I felt like I was having a fun dream after smoking a post-work joint.
If the paranormal locals weren’t enough, the overcast sky of muted violet and green added a sense of fantasy to everything the light touched.
I approached a stall containing overflowing shelves of spices. I recognized some of what I needed immediately from Ida’s pantry, but a few items were completely foreign. I tried to look natural as I perused the options.
“Need help finding anything?” the heavily horned and spiked person behind the counter asked. They must’ve been a Thornnnnn—something. Thornite? Thornish? Thornian? Thornian.
“Oh no, I’m just browsing,” I replied casually. This faking “normal” thing was easy.
“It’s buy two get one free on the yellow racks,” they said, sounding incredibly human.
“Thank you.”
My eyes flickered between the list and the shelves. Picking up an unfamiliar herb, I relaxed when I realized the names were painted on the bottoms of the containers, making it possible to identify what I needed. One at a time, I set jars and satchels and boxes of seasonings onto the counter face.
“That’ll be it,” I smiled.
The Thornian pointed at each item with a curved talon, silently tallying. “Two bronze and five silver.”
My stomach dipped suddenly. Fuck. Was that… guilt?
It’d been one thing to have Theo buy us dinner and a hotel room. He benefitted from it—at least partially. But now I was giving away his money for something completely unrelated to him.
I swallowed, forcing the feeling down. Now wasn’t the time to question the one-sidedness of our dynamic. I needed help. Ida needed help. If he wanted to offer it, it wasn’t my responsibility to hesitate on his behalf, even if I thought his reasoning for owing me his life was bullshit.
“Here you go,” I said, handing over the easily identifiable coins.
Spending Theo’s money wasn’t much easier at the next shop, where it cost five times as much to buy Ida new footwear. They unfortunately didn’t offer discounts for only purchasing the left shoe.
I reminded myself that feeling guilty wasn’t going to help anyone as I weaved through the market. Better to get over it while the day was young.
“Theo and Ida weren’t kidding,” I muttered to myself as I stepped into the shadow of the largest building in town… by far. “Can’t miss it.”
This store specialized in sewing, crafting, fabric, and dye. Ida mentioned Drifael was famous for its rare pigments—primarily sold by this business—so it wasn’t a surprise that I could hear people loudly bustling within its walls before I even entered.
The building was essentially one giant wooden barn lined with rows of tables and shelves, and divided into sections.
Dyes. Raw materials. Premade goods. Tools.
Private cubbies for seamstresses to create custom pieces.
I veered to the far left to start my rounds.
This would take a while. Sewing was something between a love language, a hobby, and a necessity for Ida.
Much of what we carried back would be from this building.
After a good turn around the building, the many soft things I’d gathered rendered my satchel no longer able to close. I made my way to the tools section to complete my list. Scissors. Needles. Buttons. Laces. Wire. Allllll that good stuff.
“Wire to attach crystal to choker,” I muttered to myself as I checked through the list.
My eyes landed on a coil of thin metal. I grabbed it off the hook, fidgeting with its loose end to confirm how twisty it was with my fingers. Should work.
“Metal eyelets…” I read out loud before quickly locating the shelf containing the small circular rings.
“Excuse me.”
Why was there so much variety to choose from? Did it matter what kind of finish I got for her? Most of what she’d used on my garments was silver. Was that because she liked silver? Or because she ran out of copper and gold from preferring them? I wish I had a cell phone so I could call and ask.
“Miss? Excuse me. I was wondering if you could help me?”
“Sorry, are you talking to me?” I looked over my shoulder.
A handsome Mercurian man stood to my left, a pair of scissors in hand. Seafoam green markings branched out from under the cuff of his rain cloak. Something about him was unexplainably different from the locals, so I assumed he was a fellow visitor.
“I’m shopping for my sister, and I don’t know what a rotary cutter is. Something tells me it’s not the same as scissors.” He scratched the back of his neck, his well-maintained scruff dimpling with a sheepish expression.
“Oh no, it’s different.” I turned back to my right to grab the tool with a circular blade and pass it to him. “There you go.”
“Are you from around here? I don’t suppose you know where Evaline’s is? They were out of Pacikmla. Shop keeper said I should check there next.”
I wasn’t sure if there was a wrong answer, so I said honestly, “I’m new to town too, but I’m sure someone else can point you in the right direction.”
“I’ll ask around.” He smiled while his eyes scanned the crowd as if looking for the most “local” looking person.
“Best of luck to ya—"
“Cassius,” he offered his name, holding out a soft hand. Tropical waters swirled and bubbled within the cracks of his skin.
I didn’t see the need for introductions but decided to not be rude. “Vivian.”
“Thanks, Vivian.” He turned on his heels, then glanced back, “Before I go, can I ask where you got that necklace? I’ve never seen anything like it.” His eyes fixated on the fabric strapped around my throat.
I stiffened slightly, but remembered it was an abnormal amount of neck coverage. A fashion statement bound to stand out. “It was my grandmother’s,” I lied.
“Ah, well it’s lovely. Thanks again for the help.”
The man disappeared into the crowd, and I wasted no more time finishing my list. The excessive chatter in this building was starting to give me a headache; I wasn’t used to “people noise” anymore.
What had originally been slow and intentional choices over what Ida would like best became quick grabs of what fit her needs. I could feel bad about any unfavorable decisions later, right now I needed to get some fresh air.
Had it not been so loud inside, I might have noticed the absolute downpour of rain that had started pummeling outside.
The thatched straw coverings over the dirt sidewalks didn’t stand a chance as the wind blew droplets near-sideways.
The locals must’ve been used to it. They’d set up what barriers they could around their stalls—mostly scrap metal, straw, and wood—and gotten back to their jobs. I understood. Work was work.
I made my way to a handyman’s booth; it stood out as one of the better weatherproof designs. There was even a tin roof on the customer side of the counter, something most vendors didn’t bother with.
“Aye,” the scaled man greeted, “Whatcha lookin’ for?”
I squinted at the cubbies of goods behind him, then down at my list. Theo had written endless names of nails, screws, bolts, and other miscellaneous metal items. None of the specifics meant much to me.
I’d have to hand this guy the list and hope for the best, I supposed.
Maybe “woman doesn’t know about home improvement” was an inter-planetary stereotype I could use to my advantage. Weaponized sexism.
I lifted the paper, my back getting soggier by the moment as horizontal rain sprayed across me. “I have a list—”
I felt Theo’s looming presence behind me before he spoke.
Maybe it was his warmth, or the way the rain suddenly stopped hitting me.
Or, maybe, some part of me had already become used to having him around.
My soul felt the relief of his company after a period of absence, like he’d always belonged by my side.
Yikes. Definitely not that. Probably just the way he blocked the rain.
“You can tuck that away, darling. Try to keep it dry for us,” he said smoothly.
I folded the paper up and hid it amongst the layers of fabric within my bag.
Theo and the seller went back and forth, pieces of metal clinking together as they were added to wooden boxes for us. I’d never considered how many nails went into building a house. Turns out, a fuckin’ lot.
After payment and some gruff “thank you”s were exchanged, it was time to embrace the wet. I stood at the last step of semi-dry dirt, staring out and bracing for a day of cold and damp.
“Do you want to stay at the inn while I finish our shopping?” Theo offered, peeling my canvas bag from my shoulder and hooking it over his arm.
“Oh no,” I chuckled at the audacity of the offer. Like I’d let him slave away in the rain for me while I cozied up in a warm bed. “We’re handling this as a team. You ready for our next stop? I saw kitchenware around the corner.”
“Onward we go.” He grinned, stepping into the pouring rain the same moment thunder quaked the ground.