To Still a Spinning World (January 3010) [Tathariel]
Jun 15, 2018 6:39:40 GMT -5
Post by Niphredil on Jun 15, 2018 6:39:40 GMT -5
The apothecary stood white of face with wide windows, much like the other shops along the market stretch. Niphredil approached, tightening her cloak against the wet chill that blew up and down the street. She could not recall the previous winter biting her so, though as the world pulsed by in silence despite the life of the people around her, Niphredil could not help but recall much of the winter previous had been far different.
She entered the shop, a small bell ringing overhead that she could see dancing above her yet heard no music from. Her heart felt heavy as she did her best to close the door behind her in a quiet way. Niphredil was never certain anymore that she was not being disruptive when she was moving about or speaking, and took extra effort to be sure to be silent.
For a moment, the room spun, and she stood gripping the doorframe with tight, white fingers, breathing out a long stream of sigh to steady herself. It came in waves, the dizziness. The Houses had told her that it would never go away, that it was a product of the same fever that had stolen her hearing and her mother the previous year.
After a moment, she lifted her eyes to the counter, taking her steps toward it. “Good afternoon,” she greeted. She did not know if greeting was offered at first, though it seemed likely. Her brown eyes held steady upon the young woman’s face, waiting to try and read her lips. “Ginger and turmeric, if you have it.”
She did not know how frequently the apothecary received shipment of spices and herbs from Haradwaith, though she prayed there was yet some available for the winter; it seemed the only thing that helped limit the spells she was plagued with, and while Niphredil knew there was nothing that could be done about her deafness, she took solace in the fact that she could help herself still a spinning world. Her thread of action. The one that tied her world together.
She entered the shop, a small bell ringing overhead that she could see dancing above her yet heard no music from. Her heart felt heavy as she did her best to close the door behind her in a quiet way. Niphredil was never certain anymore that she was not being disruptive when she was moving about or speaking, and took extra effort to be sure to be silent.
For a moment, the room spun, and she stood gripping the doorframe with tight, white fingers, breathing out a long stream of sigh to steady herself. It came in waves, the dizziness. The Houses had told her that it would never go away, that it was a product of the same fever that had stolen her hearing and her mother the previous year.
After a moment, she lifted her eyes to the counter, taking her steps toward it. “Good afternoon,” she greeted. She did not know if greeting was offered at first, though it seemed likely. Her brown eyes held steady upon the young woman’s face, waiting to try and read her lips. “Ginger and turmeric, if you have it.”
She did not know how frequently the apothecary received shipment of spices and herbs from Haradwaith, though she prayed there was yet some available for the winter; it seemed the only thing that helped limit the spells she was plagued with, and while Niphredil knew there was nothing that could be done about her deafness, she took solace in the fact that she could help herself still a spinning world. Her thread of action. The one that tied her world together.
