» At the Bakery, open

[Hakan Cochette]

April 16, 201 HE

“Varg,” Hakan said, poking his sleeping brother with the toe of his boot. Vargos snorted in his sleep, but otherwise didn’t stir. “Vargy-Varg,” he repeated, poking him harder. The boy slept the like the dead. He must have been up late writing or reading his nonsense, whatever the boy did that he found so endlessly entertaining.

“Vargos,” Hakan said, “You’re going to miss breakfast.” Usually the promise of food helped the boy wake himself up, but Varg seemed to be in a coma and even the combination of promising food and Hakan’s toe in his side couldn’t even get him to roll over. Hakan sighed deeply, rolling his eyes at his brother. Personally, Hakan always sleepy lightly, he could be up and fully function in a matter of seconds in need required him to be, however, Vargos could sleep through a monsoon.

Hakan decided to leave his little brother and go out to buy some breakfast, which would most certainly be able to get Vargos out of bed. Beyond that, Hakan was hungry and he was not willing to wait patiently for Varg to get up and wander into some clothes, then go to the market with the boy. Vargos liked to wander and stare at people, on good days he was just ridiculously slow, and on bad days Vargos would get himself lost and Hakan would spend half the day looking for him, only to find him in some bookstore or off staring at the sky, daydreaming.

This decided, Hakan pulled his coat over his shoulders, pulling the collar up around his face. The weather was warming up, but Hakan preferred wearing the heavy clothes of winter as opposed to the light clothing of summertime. He trotted lightly down the stairs that led from the apartment where he and Vargos lived, down into the shop below. The shop was messy, due to Varg getting distracted while working. The mess bothered Hakan, he could hardly look at it, his hands itched to straighten it. He hated disorder, he knew that if Varg didn’t clean soon, he would be forced to. He couldn’t live upstairs to such a mess for very long.

Hakan left the shop, emerging on the street. He glanced around, it was morning and there were quite a few people out and about. The spring weather was cool, but not too cold, there was a slight breeze that was just slightly chilling. There was a bakery not far from their shop, Hakan approached it, breathing in deeply the smell of freshly baked bread. The Cochette boys had a little money left over this week, Hakan was carefully seeing to their finances and he knew exactly how much they had for bread this morning. He was fully prepared to haggle with the baker to get the best price, the baker always cringed slightly when Hakan entered his shop because Hakan was one of his stingier customers.

However, when Hakan arrived, there was no bread in the bakery. It was all still in the oven, thus Hakan decided to wait. He waited outside because he knew that the baker was not terribly fond of him, he found a place to lean against a wall and survey the street. Waiting for bread to come out of the oven was never a terribly exciting event and, while Hakan rarely found himself wishing for company, he did in this case. Silently he cursed his brother's laziness.

[Faerra Críwen]

Today was going to be a beautiful day, Faerra could just feel it. Yesterday's performance had been truly spectacular; it was obvious that the people of Corus had never seen anything like the Críwens before. The young woman smiled to herself, it was true that she and her family were the best street performers in all of Tortall. They traveled from city to village to town, staying for as long as the people were generous. If yesterday was any indication, they would be staying quite a while.

The young woman grinned brightly at a shopkeeper as she passed by his stall. Without even fully knowing why, the man smiled back at her. It was nice to see someone witch such enthusiasm this early in the morning. Faerra waved jauntily as she passed by but she did not stop. She knew where she was going this morning. She had been commissioned to stop by the bakery to collect the day-old buns that her family made their breakfast of. While slightly stale, the meal was much better than plenty that they had shared. Yes, indeed, Corus was a lovely place at this time of year.

Fae giggled to herself and spun around, enjoying the way her skirts flared out around her. Deep gold, blue, and red swirled around her and the maroon of her pants underneath. Her white blouse---short-sleeved to allow freedom of movement and to flaunt her tattoo---was rather too big for her and was half-slipping off of one shoulder, but it was belted to her figure with a piece of scrap leather. Upon that belt hung an assortment of colored ribbons of various lengths and hues. The young woman put one hand up to adjust the bandanna that kept her reddish-brown curls away from her eyes and smiled to see the flash of brass upon her wrist. An assortment of cheap but pretty chains wrapped about her ankles, wrists, and necks. Two hoops hung from her ears as well.

Faerra knew that she drew attention as she waltzed down the thoroughfare but she did not mind. Let people stare. She liked it. Putting one hand inside the leather back that was slung across her chest and lay against her skirts, she fingered the cool copper nobles inside. She had five, and hoped that that was enough to buy enough bread for the ten people in her family.

There. She spotted the bakery. With renewed enthusiasm, the young woman broke into a skip. Knowing that she drew even more stares---a grown woman, skipping?---only served to heighten her good mood. She bounced into the bakery, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling. There was a mother and her small child inside, apparently waiting for the fresh bread to come out of the oven. Fae waved at both merrily, her grin widening at the hesitant wave from the child she received.

"I want however much day-old bread you can fit into this basket," the street performer told the baker, hefting one of his delivery baskets. As he nodded, and told her he'd fill her request in "just a moment", Fae met the small boy's eyes. He was staring at her unabashedly, clutching one of his mother's hands while she paid for her order. The young woman winked before flipping into a handstand. This was where those pants, came in handy, she thought. Her skirts fell down around her like waterfall, obscuring her view, and her maroon-clothed legs were visible as they stood straight up in the air. Faerra tumbled to the ground in a somersault, before rolling up to her feet. The small boy was staring in open-mouthed delight. As his mother ushered him out the door, he craned his neck back around, trying to get one last glimpse of the performer.

"I'll fill your order in just a bit, miss," the baker told his customer. "The day-old bread's in th'back."

"Take your time," Fae replied amiably. As the man disappeared into the back, the young woman wandered outside to the front of the shop. She caught sight of a young man casually leaning against the side of the store. He must have been there when she went by but she didn't remember seeing him before. "Hello," she greeted him cheerfully. "Smells delicious, doesn't it?" she asked, referring to the warm scent of fresh-baked bread that was wafting from the open door of the bakery.

This post has been edited by Faerra Críwen on Oct 27 2009, 04:45 PM

[Hakan Cochette]

Hakan was perfectly content to be out on the street, leaning against the wall and watching the street quietly. No one paid much attention to him, he had a way about him that was subtle, easy to ignore. He was not particularly distressed about this, it often worked in his favor in his line of work.

As he was leaning, he could see someone who was his complete opposite coming down the street. She was colorful, she had all the eyes of the cityfolk and not only did she not mind, but she seemed to like it. Hakan watched her with a neutral expression; his facial expression was completely detached from the blatant curiosity he was feeling. He watched her as she skipped, her enormously impractical outfit swinging around in all directions. Hakan wasn’t sure if he should frown at her behavior, or just sit back and enjoy it. It was certainly different from the usual dreary look of the city dwellers in Flash and Hakan couldn’t help but keep glancing up at her, though he was trying to keep his eyes on the dirty cobblestones of the street.

When she disappeared into the bakery, Hakan watched her for a moment before turning his eyes back to the street. His arms were crossed in front of him and his feet were planted firmly on the street, the only movement he made was to flick his eyes up and down the street to see what other interesting things the people of Flash had in store for him while he was waiting for his bread.

He didn’t look up at her, when the colorful woman came from inside the bakery, but he could see her full burst of color out of the corner of his eye and it was unmistakable. Hakan turned his head slowly when she greeted him with only cheerfulness.

He nodded slowly, “Yes, it does,” he agreed neutrally. Usually he would have let all conversation drop there, Hakan wasn’t big on chatting cheerfully with strangers, or anyone really. However, this woman and her exuberance raised his curiosity, and he decided that he wasn’t going to do his usual pulling back when faced with conversation.

“You’re making quite a show of yourself,” Hakan informed her in a level, emotionless voice. “You must not be from around here. If you were, I am sure that it would not be possible to miss you." As an opening sentence, it was a complete failure. Hakan usually made it a point to only speak to his little brother, who he mostly teased, and people that he did business with, with whom he mostly only discussed business and rarely strayed into personal matters. Since he was doing neither of these things here, he knew that he was coming off in an unfriendly way, but he wasn't too concerned about it. On general principle, making friends was not high on his priority list.

[Faerra Críwen]

He did not seem to be a particularly nice young man, but that didn't really bother Fae. She had performed in front of much tougher and harder-to-please audiences. From the slightly bland expression on his face, she simply assumed he just wasn't one of those "morning people". He nodded in agreement with her statement, replying in the affirmative. There was a moment's pause before he told her flatly, "You’re making quite a show of yourself. You must not be from around here. If you were, I am sure that it would not be possible to miss you."

Faerra grinned in pleasure, her entire face lighting up with delight. The fact that he had spoken in a completely emotionless way was not lost on the young woman but she brushed it away as unimportant. He had noticed her and, better yet, had said that it was impossible not to. As a street performer, that was the best compliment she could receive. Rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet, the young woman nodded. "You could say that I'm new," she conceded cheerfully. "I've never been to Corus before. But I'm just a visitor, really."

There was a flurry of colorful skirts and a flash of jewelry as, suddenly, the young woman flipped into a forwards handspring. Laughing, she landed firmly on the ground a few feet closer to the strange young man. He seemed to be an interesting type, and Faerra was nothing if not curious. "Actually," she told the stranger, "I'm more of a traveling street performer. Some folks call us gypsies." Her hazel eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as she looked up at the young man. Enthusiasm for what no one was quite sure of. One thing was certain, Fae possessed an energy and passion for everyday life that was exhausting and incomprehensible to many people. How could someone have that much vivacity when doing menial chores like running errands or scrubbing floors? Truth was, the young woman saw everything as a new experience and an adventure to be had---even the most mundane of things. It lent her a permanent bounce in her step and twinkle in her eye.

"Have you seen our show?" she asked, excitement in her voice. "If not, you should. We're the best," she added unabashedly. She was not ashamed of her boasting, because it was true. Of the street performers that she and her family had seen in Corus---and there weren't many---nothing very good could be said about any of them. The Críwen troupe was like a breath of fresh air.

The young woman flashed her white teeth once more in a smile that reached her eyes. "I'm Faerra Críwen," she announced, offering a hand to the stranger. "What's your name?"

[Hakan Cochette]

Hakan looked at her levelly, watching her features to see how she was going to take his comment. She didn’t seem that upset about it, from what Hakan could tell. As he looked at her, he figured that there probably wasn’t much he could say that would make her stop smiling.

He looked sideways at her when she said she was not from Corus, he was going to ask where she was from when she continued to explain herself. He was too slow anyways, by the time that he had thought to politely inquire about Tusaine and then decide not to, she had already flung herself into a handspring.

Hakan was trying to keep his expression unfazed, but it was difficult to maintain when people were doing handsprings and things in front of him. Hakan’s eyebrows lifted and his lips pressed together as he fumbled for something to say. “You should really-“ Hakan muttered as she landed in front of him, “-be careful with that.” He slouched back against the wall of the bakery, looking over his shoulder and down the street. Hakan knew that he looked a little sullen in response to her trick, but he wasn’t sure how else to react. He wasn’t really the smile and clapping type.

She was a gypsy; which would explain a lot about her. He was going to ask her if she had ever been to Tusaine to perform, but that would imply that he had been there too, and it was a personal policy of his not to give away personal information unless absolutely necessary. Beyond that, his memories of Tusaine were not particularly fond and it was too early in the morning to be thinking about it. He nodded slowly at her words, looking over her excited expression without an expression of his own.

“No, I can’t say that I have,” Hakan said neutrally when she asked if he had seen her show. She used the word ‘our’ so Hakan could only surmise that there were others like her, and he could only imagine a whole troop of people like this girl wandering around the city. “I do not go out much. For recreation,” he explained neutrally.

Hakan looked back at her when she offered his name. It was a strange name, though Hakan didn’t really have much room to complain. His brother’s name was Vargos, after all. He nodded at her, “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Hakan replied stiffly, “I am Hakan.” He didn’t like to give his full name to complete strangers, even ones that seem even remotely threatening. He didn’t think that Faerra posed any danger, but he didn’t want to give her his full name, just in case. Not for the first time, he thought about using a false name, but it seemed like too much of an effort for the small gain it would bring.

[Faerra Críwen]

"You should really be careful with that," the young man muttered a tad morosely as he leant casually against the brick wall of the bakery. Arms folding across his chest with his eyes fixed studiously in the opposite direction, he seemed determined to be unimpressed. What a strange fellow. Faerra had never met anyone so set upon not smiling and enjoying themselves. As soon as that thought crossed her mind, a new idea flashed into her mind. She did not take the time to ponder whether or not it was the wisest decision to make, really. But it had the ring of an adventure to it and so Fae was game to try. The young woman now made it her goal to---sometime before the baker brought out either her or his order---to have made him smile. At the very best, to have made him laugh. He would be a nice-looking fellow if he would smile a bit more. Faerra hated to see people so serious all the time. It had to be unhealthy.

"Do what?" she inquired innocently. "This?" She flung herself into a backwards handspring, throwing in an impressive twist in midair just for fun, before landing on her hands. Craning her head upwards so that she could look behind and up at the young man right-side up instead of peering through her arms at him upside-down, she winked one hazel eye broadly. "I don't know what you could possible mean."

A young woman passing by on early morning errands slowed to stare. Faerra lifted one hand so that she was balancing on one arm to wave jauntily at the stranger. She flashed white teeth in a delighted grin when she received a bewildered waggle of the fingers in response. When the young man began speaking again, she lifted her hazel eyes up to his face once more. At his mention of not getting out and about much "for recreation", she sprang to her feet with a look of abject horror on her face. "What?!" she cried, aghast. "Whatever do you do all day?" Her expression melted away into a mischievous smile. She was a performer, wasn't she? What good was it to be good at acting if you couldn't have some fun with it?

As he announced stiffly, "I am Hakan" and that it was a pleasure to meet her she couldn't stop that laugh that bubbled up. From his tone of voice it was obvious it wasn't. In fact, from the way he said his name and held his body, he seemed to almost be expecting an attack or something. From her? Puh-lease. The young woman remarked playfully, "I don't bite, you know."

[Hakan Cochette]

“Yes, that-” Hakan said sharply, “that is what I was referring- it can’t be-“ He started a few sentences, but ended them all, distracted by Faerra’s handspring that looked ridiculously unsafe. Not that Hakan was the safest person in the world, but that was when things only concerned himself and other unsavory types, he didn’t like to see a vibrant young woman risk life and limb just for entertainment.

“You could fall and break your neck, among other things,” Hakan said sternly when she completed her tricks. His arms were still crossed over his chest and he was frowning rather seriously at her. “Or even just a wrist or ankle-“ He felt like he was lecturing his little brother about his activities, some people just didn’t listen to his good common sense, which he gave out generously, but never followed himself.

“What do I do all day?” Hakan repeated when she was surprised by his statement that he didn’t bother much with recreation. “I work and- see to things. What are you doing all day?” he returned the question, with a frown. He was equally curious about what she was doing as she was about what he was doing, Hakan couldn’t imagine what he would be doing with himself if he wasn’t trying to pay the bills and feed and clothe himself and Vargos. As much as he complained about it, without his work he probably would lapse into some sort of dreary idleness which he wouldn’t enjoy at all. Working filled his days, and his thoughts, so there wasn’t room for much else.

Leaning back against the wall, looking away from Faerra and down the street pointedly, he couldn’t see that she was smiling at his stiff words of introduction. He dragged his eyes back to her when she informed him that she didn’t bite, he took in her smile and moved his eyes back down the street.

He shrugged, “I’m not afraid of being bitten,” he said flatly, “not by humans anyways. Human teeth, they’re not very sharp.” Hakan said this with personal knowledge, his hand moved subconsciously to cover the scar on the other hand where he had been bitten by a dog as a child. The bite had a scared, and though he had attempted to hide the bite by a tattoo, he was still well aware that it was there. Anytime he saw a dog or talked about biting, his hand subconsciously drifted to pick at the scar, though it was well healed after all these years.

Hakan realized that he was behaving strangely about the bite comment and pressed his lips together and raised his eyebrows up slightly, an expression that implied a smile without actually coming close to giving one. “Your teeth, in particular, don’t seem to be dangerous,” he informed her. He was going to add something about her having nice teeth, but seemed to be an improper comment to make. “There are other risks that humans present than merely biting, sadly enough.” Hakan was looking down the street, but he was still very much aware what the girl was doing. He was just not the trusting type. That must have all been passed onto Vargos, who somehow managed to have an over-abundance of trust.

[Faerra Críwen]

Hakan truly was an interesting fellow. She could not remember meeting anyone quite so curious as he. The fact that he was expounding upon the dangers of the tricks that she performed daily only caused her more puzzlement. Though people enjoyed the feats she and her family performed, they did not take the time to ponder the risk they took each time they leaped backwards off the caravan into a flip or played with fire. They were gypsies. Gypsies did those things. So what if they got hurt? They were gypsies. People such as the Críwens were viewed by the normal people much like they looked upon stray dogs. They were good for entertainment for a while, nothing more. Eventually they grew bothersome and were tiring to have always underfoot, so they had to be run off before they caused trouble. People never worried about what the stray dogs would do next, once they were chased away with sticks and stones from their own doorways. People never worried about the Críwens either.

Tilting her head a little to one side---as if that made her see Hakan more clearly---Faerra surveyed the young man in front of her. He was still lecturing, about how she could break a wrist or ankle! The young woman wrinkled her nose at that---an ankle would be one of the worst things to break. She could not flip, she could not tumble, she could not stand, she could not walk. She could not do anything. Fae looked dubiously down at her own ankles, her expression thoughtful. Looking back up at Hakan she told him with a slightly sad smile, "It's the way I earn my living." She raised both shoulders in an expressive shrug. "Broken bones heal in time. If it gets bread for me and my family to eat, I'll do whatever it takes to draw a crowd."

She did not miss the vague comment about what the young man did all day. He glossed over it lightly, clearly he did not wish to talk in-depth over it. She shrugged inwardly. Faerra respected people's privacy. If he didn't want to talk about what he did with his days to an almost-complete stranger, she was alright with that. It was a pity though. She was very interested.

"What do I do all day?" she asked, repeating his question in much the same way he had repeated hers. "I work. You know, make enough money to get everyone dinner and hope there'll be enough leftover for breakfast." She smiled. "What I do changes every day, so I don't really know how I'd answer. Yesterday I was juggler. Today I might be a fire-breather. I haven't decided yet." Her hazel eyes twinkled merrily. "What else do you do when you don't work and 'see to things'?"

Faerra wondered why he seemed to find it impossible to look at her while holding a conversation. Hakan's eyes met hers for a moment before they drifted out to survey the street. She would say something and then he'd drag his gaze to her just long enough to acknowledge her, and when he opened his mouth to answer they would snap back to the street. For example, when he made that comment about being bitten by humans, Hakan's eyes tore themselves away from the scenery to look at Faerra once more. His eyes were gray, she noticed. She would have noticed more---you can tell a lot about folk by their eyes---but she was distracted by a movement of his hand. One hand went to trace over a tattoo that was on his right. Despite herself, Faerra took a step closer to see the ink drawing more clearly. It was a picture of a dog. A rather scary-looking dog. However it had been done skillfully, much to her pleasure. Tattoos done with needles and ink always looked the finest. She had seen tattoos that looked like they were cut into the skin with a knife and then dye had been rubbed into the wounds. That appearance did not look the finest.

"I do like your tattoo," she commented, and flushed as she realized that may not quite have been the most appropriate comment to make. "I have one as well, though nothing as intimidating as that one."

She listened as Hakan made the comment about her teeth. The young woman flashed them in a grin, which faded as he looked once more down the street, making that world-weary comment about how humans did more to each other than bite. She knew that all too well.

Faerra was silent for a moment, watching Hakan as steadily as he was watching the street. After a few moments she asked, "Why won't you look at me when you speak?"