Post by Andromeda Esmerée Delacour on Mar 16, 2020 19:52:57 GMT
It was much warmer in Atelus, she noticed. The youth had opt again for three layers too many: plain cotton body linen beneath a lilac cotte, with the heavy white hooded cloak that signified her place in the church worn. Oseling had been the only land that she had known, it's cool, brisk streets were so very different than the sweltering sun of Atelus.
Just walking down the streets had been a nightmare.
She was sweating and her mouth uncomfortably dry as she walked through doors, keeping her head ducked down and her eyes to the floor. Submissive and shy by nature, Andromeda didn't want to make eye contact with someone who might take it the wrong way or something, so she figured it was best to just look at the floor while she walked, glancing up from behind her hair every now and again to make certain she wouldn’t crash into anyone.
People didn't like it when she walked into them — that much she had learned by now. Without the comfortable presence of Simone beside her, Andromeda felt terribly frightened. The shock of hair did not help her blend in, though she wore a hood to keep it less noticeable. The introductions with the other priestesses had been a bit much; she missed the wildlands they had so recently fled, the escape of the forests without the judgmental eye of the ladies and gentlemen ever at her back.
Because she knew their thoughts better than anyone — their disbelief that such a wretched inhumane thing might of earned a place in this world she couldn't possibly belong to. You should of stayed aboard, the dark voice seemed to mock her, a smirk in its tone. The same ever-present fear igniting anew at the memory of him. Look at what you've done, you filthy beast. Even by just existed, she is managing to ruin Simone. Just as she had ruined so many other lives. The high priestess had done nothing but protect and look after her, and here she was… making things difficult for her. Ever the weakling. Ever the burden.
Please. Be silent, she thought fiercely, eyes clenching shut as the pressure built in the back of her skull. It was not him. It was only her imagination — there was no way it might be him. Her mind tormented him more than he had, it seemed. She wondered if that verified his words; if she was as weak as she’d been taught.
Simone had sent her out to market today to pick up the clothing donations. There were a handful of tailor shops in Atelus that were quite charitable and if an item was returned, lightly damaged, or otherwise unable to fetch any coin they would store it within wicker baskets to await for a monthly pickup by the clergy. These clothing would be given freely to those in need; from people in deep poverty who needed to exchange their rags for suitable apparel to earn a job, to struggling families that couldn't spare any funds to meet the needs of their ever growing children, the church was not selective in its offerings.
She held the pouch of coins so tightly in her hands, her knuckles went white. Andromeda needed new shoes, hers were starting to get worn out. She'd had them all for years now, it was time for some new ones and Simone had been adamant that she pick some up on this trip. But trying on clothes probably her least favorite thing in the world. She hated looking in the dressing room mirrors. Hated having to find sizes. She was awful at it, but she'd never been shopping with anyone else before. She always went alone.
Andromeda slowed her steps to let a human couple pass, head down and shoulders slumping when she spotted the double take shot her way as they passed. The eyes first lingered on her face, that blind right eye on the hideously scarred half of her face... passed over to the slightly pointed tips of her ears that was evident though not nearly as prominent on a siren, luminescent red curls which bounced on her shoulders with each footfall. Whether she was being recognized as a new member of the clergy or a mermaid ashore made little difference.
The disgust was the same. Always.
This is why she went alone when in cities if she could. Simone hated it when sideways looks were cast in her direction, grew overprotective whenever she so much as sensed their revulsion towards her. She did not tolerate such acts and would be already snapping at the couple for staring. Simone was awful at keeping his temper, awful at realizing that Andromeda agreed with how the world perceived her.
That’s why she always went alone.
Sighing, the woman glanced up to see where she was going and her steps slowly to a stop as she gazed up through the window in front of one of the tailor shops. It was a woman’s shop, one wealthy ladies likely frequented, or would go to if they didn’t have servants to do it for them. On the display outside were different skirts and dresses, petticoats and lacy things, but one in particular had her attention.
It was a lovely dress, a flowy pale pink one with lacy flowers stitched to the sides, a look as if red roses were trickling down the elegant bodice down to the skirts. Andromeda wondered what it would be like to wear it, how it might feel to…. No.
No, she couldn’t think like that. It would be a waste. That was… wrong. Wasn’t it? The owners would probably wrinkle their noses in disgust if they caught her staring. She was just a young priestess to be, and priestess weren’t meant to dress like a princess. It was against the unspoken rules of the world.
But still her eyes kept gazing at the dress.
She couldn't make herself look away.
Just walking down the streets had been a nightmare.
She was sweating and her mouth uncomfortably dry as she walked through doors, keeping her head ducked down and her eyes to the floor. Submissive and shy by nature, Andromeda didn't want to make eye contact with someone who might take it the wrong way or something, so she figured it was best to just look at the floor while she walked, glancing up from behind her hair every now and again to make certain she wouldn’t crash into anyone.
People didn't like it when she walked into them — that much she had learned by now. Without the comfortable presence of Simone beside her, Andromeda felt terribly frightened. The shock of hair did not help her blend in, though she wore a hood to keep it less noticeable. The introductions with the other priestesses had been a bit much; she missed the wildlands they had so recently fled, the escape of the forests without the judgmental eye of the ladies and gentlemen ever at her back.
Because she knew their thoughts better than anyone — their disbelief that such a wretched inhumane thing might of earned a place in this world she couldn't possibly belong to. You should of stayed aboard, the dark voice seemed to mock her, a smirk in its tone. The same ever-present fear igniting anew at the memory of him. Look at what you've done, you filthy beast. Even by just existed, she is managing to ruin Simone. Just as she had ruined so many other lives. The high priestess had done nothing but protect and look after her, and here she was… making things difficult for her. Ever the weakling. Ever the burden.
Please. Be silent, she thought fiercely, eyes clenching shut as the pressure built in the back of her skull. It was not him. It was only her imagination — there was no way it might be him. Her mind tormented him more than he had, it seemed. She wondered if that verified his words; if she was as weak as she’d been taught.
Simone had sent her out to market today to pick up the clothing donations. There were a handful of tailor shops in Atelus that were quite charitable and if an item was returned, lightly damaged, or otherwise unable to fetch any coin they would store it within wicker baskets to await for a monthly pickup by the clergy. These clothing would be given freely to those in need; from people in deep poverty who needed to exchange their rags for suitable apparel to earn a job, to struggling families that couldn't spare any funds to meet the needs of their ever growing children, the church was not selective in its offerings.
She held the pouch of coins so tightly in her hands, her knuckles went white. Andromeda needed new shoes, hers were starting to get worn out. She'd had them all for years now, it was time for some new ones and Simone had been adamant that she pick some up on this trip. But trying on clothes probably her least favorite thing in the world. She hated looking in the dressing room mirrors. Hated having to find sizes. She was awful at it, but she'd never been shopping with anyone else before. She always went alone.
Andromeda slowed her steps to let a human couple pass, head down and shoulders slumping when she spotted the double take shot her way as they passed. The eyes first lingered on her face, that blind right eye on the hideously scarred half of her face... passed over to the slightly pointed tips of her ears that was evident though not nearly as prominent on a siren, luminescent red curls which bounced on her shoulders with each footfall. Whether she was being recognized as a new member of the clergy or a mermaid ashore made little difference.
The disgust was the same. Always.
This is why she went alone when in cities if she could. Simone hated it when sideways looks were cast in her direction, grew overprotective whenever she so much as sensed their revulsion towards her. She did not tolerate such acts and would be already snapping at the couple for staring. Simone was awful at keeping his temper, awful at realizing that Andromeda agreed with how the world perceived her.
That’s why she always went alone.
Sighing, the woman glanced up to see where she was going and her steps slowly to a stop as she gazed up through the window in front of one of the tailor shops. It was a woman’s shop, one wealthy ladies likely frequented, or would go to if they didn’t have servants to do it for them. On the display outside were different skirts and dresses, petticoats and lacy things, but one in particular had her attention.
It was a lovely dress, a flowy pale pink one with lacy flowers stitched to the sides, a look as if red roses were trickling down the elegant bodice down to the skirts. Andromeda wondered what it would be like to wear it, how it might feel to…. No.
No, she couldn’t think like that. It would be a waste. That was… wrong. Wasn’t it? The owners would probably wrinkle their noses in disgust if they caught her staring. She was just a young priestess to be, and priestess weren’t meant to dress like a princess. It was against the unspoken rules of the world.
But still her eyes kept gazing at the dress.
She couldn't make herself look away.
