The Favor (September 2995) - [Ceolmund, Runa]
Feb 6, 2018 14:20:23 GMT -5
Post by Runa on Feb 6, 2018 14:20:23 GMT -5
He squeezed her hand, and for a moment Runa thought her insides were going to turn into a puddle. He did not look overly thrilled with himself, though slowly his lips were turning upward into a smile. She did not understand how he could not see his victory. He never wished to speak to the vendors of the marketplace. In fact, he was content to keep silent around perhaps everyone but herself and her family. He had walked inside and done something he was frightened of, and he had gotten more out in one sitting with the herbalist than she had heard him say to anyone other than those of her family.
He reached and took hold of her wrist with one of his long arms, and brought the paper up for him to read.
“To the farmer's mmmarket. I p-promise, I'll try again.”
“You did great,” the girl said, a shade breathless. Once more he squeezed her hand and they set off, hands slightly swinging between them. Runa for a moment blushed, though recovered herself for the beauty of the day and the overall familiar motion of walking through the city, Ceolmund at her side.
“This time, instead of leading with the sky, tell the grocer that the weather seems to be getting cool,” she suggested. “Let him know if you like the cold or not. Farmers love to talk about that, and rain.” She grinned up at him, a small laugh in her eyes and spilling from her lips.
“We just need a few things,” Runa was continuing. She knew listening to her prattle was an annoyance for Bear, though Ceolmund often seemed settled by the winding way her words came. Or, at least, she thought he was. For a moment she feared she may be annoying him as well, though she did not have much time for considering the concern. The vegetable stall was ahead, rainbow hues of colors along the various tables, laid out fresh that morning. However, it was not the stall that caused Runa to falter in her step a moment: it was the wheat-hued curls of the woman at the counter, and the young girl at her side.
Green eyes flicked toward Runa, likely noticing her approach for the way the sun glinted off her own bright locks. Gisillia scowled before turning away once more, and Runa felt her heart fall.
“We can keep this quick, too,” she assured Ceolmund one last time, then soundlessly she pressed them the last bit of the way. It was the same time Solweig and Gisillia were beginning their farewells.
“Those seeds will grow quite well with the proper care,” the farmer drawled to Solweig as she began to move off, lowering the linen pouch of what must have been seeds into her basket.
“I cannot wait to grow some tomatoes of my own,” she said back, voice pleasant and light as she smiled a goodbye.
When she turned, she first saw Ceolmund, towering above her. “Oh, I’m sorry, sir,” she said apologetically, though when she dropped her eyes to offer a smile to what she thought was his daughter she faltered. “Oh! Runa,” she said, the tone almost uneasy.
“Good afternoon, Miss Solweig,” Runa greeted, then dropped her eye to the one she used to call friend. “Gisillia.”
Gisillia looked at Ceolmund a moment, green eyes considering. He had grown to be rather handsome, she supposed. Though he still could not speak, nor indeed was of any use on the training grounds—Gudmarr always kept Avila up on the latest gossip of the training grounds, and Avila in turn shared it with the younger ones. It seemed a shame Runa was even able to con such an undesirable boy to being her boyfriend. “Come, Mother,” she pressed. She did not wish to tarry long beside Runa; her boarishness was catching, she was certain.
Though, she could not pass with no words, and as Solweig steered them past she stepped close to Runa’s ear. “Out of my way, rat,” the girl muttered under her breath. Solweig did not hear a single thing, though Runa immediately stiffened and tightened her jaw.
“There now, lad, lass—how can I help you?”
He reached and took hold of her wrist with one of his long arms, and brought the paper up for him to read.
“To the farmer's mmmarket. I p-promise, I'll try again.”
“You did great,” the girl said, a shade breathless. Once more he squeezed her hand and they set off, hands slightly swinging between them. Runa for a moment blushed, though recovered herself for the beauty of the day and the overall familiar motion of walking through the city, Ceolmund at her side.
“This time, instead of leading with the sky, tell the grocer that the weather seems to be getting cool,” she suggested. “Let him know if you like the cold or not. Farmers love to talk about that, and rain.” She grinned up at him, a small laugh in her eyes and spilling from her lips.
“We just need a few things,” Runa was continuing. She knew listening to her prattle was an annoyance for Bear, though Ceolmund often seemed settled by the winding way her words came. Or, at least, she thought he was. For a moment she feared she may be annoying him as well, though she did not have much time for considering the concern. The vegetable stall was ahead, rainbow hues of colors along the various tables, laid out fresh that morning. However, it was not the stall that caused Runa to falter in her step a moment: it was the wheat-hued curls of the woman at the counter, and the young girl at her side.
Green eyes flicked toward Runa, likely noticing her approach for the way the sun glinted off her own bright locks. Gisillia scowled before turning away once more, and Runa felt her heart fall.
“We can keep this quick, too,” she assured Ceolmund one last time, then soundlessly she pressed them the last bit of the way. It was the same time Solweig and Gisillia were beginning their farewells.
“Those seeds will grow quite well with the proper care,” the farmer drawled to Solweig as she began to move off, lowering the linen pouch of what must have been seeds into her basket.
“I cannot wait to grow some tomatoes of my own,” she said back, voice pleasant and light as she smiled a goodbye.
When she turned, she first saw Ceolmund, towering above her. “Oh, I’m sorry, sir,” she said apologetically, though when she dropped her eyes to offer a smile to what she thought was his daughter she faltered. “Oh! Runa,” she said, the tone almost uneasy.
“Good afternoon, Miss Solweig,” Runa greeted, then dropped her eye to the one she used to call friend. “Gisillia.”
Gisillia looked at Ceolmund a moment, green eyes considering. He had grown to be rather handsome, she supposed. Though he still could not speak, nor indeed was of any use on the training grounds—Gudmarr always kept Avila up on the latest gossip of the training grounds, and Avila in turn shared it with the younger ones. It seemed a shame Runa was even able to con such an undesirable boy to being her boyfriend. “Come, Mother,” she pressed. She did not wish to tarry long beside Runa; her boarishness was catching, she was certain.
Though, she could not pass with no words, and as Solweig steered them past she stepped close to Runa’s ear. “Out of my way, rat,” the girl muttered under her breath. Solweig did not hear a single thing, though Runa immediately stiffened and tightened her jaw.
“There now, lad, lass—how can I help you?”