Stormbird
A T R I S I A
Inner City
The language of these people was different from what I was used to. Many of them spoke in ways that seemed flamboyant, but then also curt and short. It was unique to find a language I didn't understand right away. While I found it difficult to try and get souvenirs from the city, it was also a blessing for me in disguise. I didn't have to hear the sounds of people warry of what I had done, what I had gone through. The noise to me was just that. Noise. No sounds to pick up that made me feel like that I was a problem. No voices speaking warry of me. I had many who nodded or bowed to me as I purchased small things. A nice jacket here, a cool pair of slacks or even this really cute cat figure that was supposed to be some kind of symbol of good fortune. Which was more of an inside joke just for myself with how often problems arose.
I enjoyed myself. Having some kind of frozen treat. It was a ball on a stick. The outside shell was cold to the touch, but creamy in its taste. When broken it gave way to a sponge texture that was richly bitter, yet still sweet. I enjoyed it how I could. My hand held under my mouth as parts of the shell broke and fell into it. Only to be scooped into my mouth. Hoping that this action wasn't some kind of heathenry or slight against them. Yet, those thoughts filtered away from my mind rather quickly. Just keeping my thoughts nearly locked in on my treat, and walking around the city proper.
After finishing the treat, I adjusted my clothing and just walked. Exploring the district. A woman came over to me and started to try and sell me something else. I wasn't even sure what it was. Just something that I had no clue would be and if it would be worth it.
"I'm sorry I don't understand you."
Speaking in the language I don't understand she tries to usher me over to her stall. I resist for a moment before gently finding the thread. The woven latticework around me and my hand phased through hers. She wouldn't feel it and would be more akin to slipping out from her grip than anything.
"I'm good. I sorry."
Walking away from her, I keep trying to avoid any possible confrontation. A little upset with how forward she was, but trying to understand that its her job.
Ayame Tsukihana
Inner City
The language of these people was different from what I was used to. Many of them spoke in ways that seemed flamboyant, but then also curt and short. It was unique to find a language I didn't understand right away. While I found it difficult to try and get souvenirs from the city, it was also a blessing for me in disguise. I didn't have to hear the sounds of people warry of what I had done, what I had gone through. The noise to me was just that. Noise. No sounds to pick up that made me feel like that I was a problem. No voices speaking warry of me. I had many who nodded or bowed to me as I purchased small things. A nice jacket here, a cool pair of slacks or even this really cute cat figure that was supposed to be some kind of symbol of good fortune. Which was more of an inside joke just for myself with how often problems arose.
I enjoyed myself. Having some kind of frozen treat. It was a ball on a stick. The outside shell was cold to the touch, but creamy in its taste. When broken it gave way to a sponge texture that was richly bitter, yet still sweet. I enjoyed it how I could. My hand held under my mouth as parts of the shell broke and fell into it. Only to be scooped into my mouth. Hoping that this action wasn't some kind of heathenry or slight against them. Yet, those thoughts filtered away from my mind rather quickly. Just keeping my thoughts nearly locked in on my treat, and walking around the city proper.
After finishing the treat, I adjusted my clothing and just walked. Exploring the district. A woman came over to me and started to try and sell me something else. I wasn't even sure what it was. Just something that I had no clue would be and if it would be worth it.
"I'm sorry I don't understand you."
Speaking in the language I don't understand she tries to usher me over to her stall. I resist for a moment before gently finding the thread. The woven latticework around me and my hand phased through hers. She wouldn't feel it and would be more akin to slipping out from her grip than anything.
"I'm good. I sorry."
Walking away from her, I keep trying to avoid any possible confrontation. A little upset with how forward she was, but trying to understand that its her job.
