Age of Elegance - To Catch A Robin

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Dec 16, 2009, 6:04am

Age of Elegance :: In Town - Various shops and botiques line these roads. :: Johnson & Sons :: To Catch A Robin

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Topic: To Catch A Robin (Read 126 times)

<.>Sparkling<.>
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I wish I could hide my tears when they turn to ash in my hands

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To Catch A Robin
« Thread Started on Oct 16, 2006, 12:59pm »

_{Ossypasana moved silently over the street as she made her way towards Johnson & Sons. She prefered the small shops to that large, fashion-oriented stores that people, of a higher standing than she, patronized. The old woman's brown and wrinkled face was a mask of indifference as she stood at the door to the store and watched a red-breasted robin dance along the eaves. It twittered its merry tune and the old woman cracked a smile. She pulled her rough, brown shawl tighter around her arms as if she were cold though the sun shone with all his magnificance. Ossypasana quietly entered into the store after a few moments and flinched slightly when the bell on the door announced her arrival.}

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Riordan
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A shadow among other shadows

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Re: To Catch A Robin
« Reply #1 on Oct 22, 2006, 8:43am »

At the sound of the door opening and the calling bell, dark azure eyes glanced at the stranger, stared indifferently, then returned his focus onto his own personal business. Though his lazy gaze was now lingered upon the shelves, his mind was elsewhere. Mentally, for he was bored, he drew the old woman to memory carefully sketching each individual wrinkle that creased upon the dark skin to those ancient eyes and the brown shawl tight around her arms. He guessed her age - old; it was as if the sands of time encumbered her appearance and wrapped it in gravity much how the apple skin slowly rots off the fruit. Obviously of low class - the clothes. The eyes were somewhat motherly - he guessed; he wouldn't know - but much like himself, there was a secretive shield in them. Of course, his observations were based upon first impression and though usually right, he didn't pride himself or strive to find that they were correct. His mind merely needed to exercise. He found it in people watching. At a final attempt to amuse himself - for he was getting bored already - he wondered about the "why." Why was she here? Silently, he mused, conjuring many thoughts.

The young man was not an employee of the store. Upon waking that morning - and such a queer morning it was! - he found himself in tattered rags, dirt and grim as a second layer of skin and trinkets, bracelets, odd knick-knacks of sorts tangled his hair and wrist. He looked like a vagabond, a squalid of the streets and the slums. No doubt he smelled unpleasant. A deep, clawing scratch was imbedded in his right hand - which he had covered with cloth - and further injuries were found upon his face. What had happened? He didn't want to know. Upon dressing he found a great shortage of clothing items and furthermore, he found an increased allowance from his benefactor. Though he often gave back the excess money, he supposed he could use it just this once. Something simple though as his eyes looked indifferently upon the clothes. The young man wasn't rich after all. A middle-class citizen, he was dependent upon another for his comfortable lifestyle thus far - until he could find work of course. He did not like burdening others. Nevertheless, from another's perspective and despite his insignificant rank in society, the young man was a strange creature to observe and many times, he had caught the perplexing stare of others. He was elegance dressed in commoner's clothes. His speech, his nature, his gait suggested something more, a depth as deep as his azure eyes.

Of course, it didn't matter. He rather preferred being a wallflower free from social duress. Finding nothing interesting upon the items, he returned his lazy and dull gaze to the old woman who just entered. For a moment, he stared, the silence screaming; he never did enjoy paying attention to others, but there was a deep-rooted politeness in his nature he could not escape. The young man executed an elegant bow; his disposition was not of prepossession after all. "Good morning." he scoffed indifferently. "If you need help, ask another. I do not work here." Releasing himself from surmised responsibility, he escaped to his mental sojourn once more, his eyes now oblivious to all that happened and all that would pass. His mind reeled in the silence.

« Last Edit: Oct 22, 2006, 10:03am by Riordan »

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"Whatever I say, whatever I do, it is all the play of a mere shadow, drifting among the graveyards and drowning in the whimsical hope of living as eveyone else. For that matter, I am one as well."

Alverton, Riordan - Three and twenty - Single - Middle lower

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