It was her fault and she knew it. She wandered into the wrong part of Lowtown (some would argue there was no right part of Lowtown, but she knew better). She wanted to get him something special for his birthday, something he hadn’t seen before. After listening to the underground word, she found out about a little cart in the west catacombs. By then it was so close to his birthday that she said nothing, just threw on a cloak, grabbed her satchel, and went off in search.
The stories were true. The stand was small, but the rings and bracelets lain on its surface shone like stars. It was like someone had taken a bit of sun and hidden it all the way down here. She bought the only thing she could afford – a silver ring, with a blue stone on it that reminded her of twilight – and left.
Getting there hadn’t been a problem, but coming back was. Apparently, everyone knew if you visited the sun shop – which meant everyone knew you had money. She wasn’t far from home when she was cornered by three seedy looking men with eyes for her coin purse. It was pure luck Reks was down there, trading information between Old Dalan and Migelo, and came to her aid. Penelo could only handle one of the thieves and Reks took out the other two – not without injury, though.
“I’m sorry,” she told him later, pressing a wet cloth to his bloodied hand. “I should’ve been more careful.”
“They shouldn’t have attacked you,” he said kindly, wincing when the cloth padded a cut earned from the skirmish. “What were you doing down there, anyway?”
Penelo smiled grimly, cleaning the knife wound. “It’s your birthday tomorrow, so…”
He sighed. “You didn’t have to do that. You know I don’t like it when people buy me things.”
“You’ll like this,” she told him, thinking, And I can’t exactly return it.
“Penelo…”
“I know.” She draped the cloth over the bucket’s rim and looked guiltily at his hand. “I just thought you deserved something nice.”
He lifted his hand from her knee, cradling her cheek in his bruised palm. She looked at him with wet eyelashes, searched his grey eyes.
“I have something nice,” he said, and smiled.
She couldn’t help it; her lips tugged into a foolish grin and she put her hands over his, placing a light kiss to his palm. “Me too.”
a bit of sun ('cause I ♥ you, Maria)
It was her fault and she knew it. She wandered into the wrong part of Lowtown (some would argue there was no right part of Lowtown, but she knew better). She wanted to get him something special for his birthday, something he hadn’t seen before. After listening to the underground word, she found out about a little cart in the west catacombs. By then it was so close to his birthday that she said nothing, just threw on a cloak, grabbed her satchel, and went off in search.
The stories were true. The stand was small, but the rings and bracelets lain on its surface shone like stars. It was like someone had taken a bit of sun and hidden it all the way down here. She bought the only thing she could afford – a silver ring, with a blue stone on it that reminded her of twilight – and left.
Getting there hadn’t been a problem, but coming back was. Apparently, everyone knew if you visited the sun shop – which meant everyone knew you had money. She wasn’t far from home when she was cornered by three seedy looking men with eyes for her coin purse. It was pure luck Reks was down there, trading information between Old Dalan and Migelo, and came to her aid. Penelo could only handle one of the thieves and Reks took out the other two – not without injury, though.
“I’m sorry,” she told him later, pressing a wet cloth to his bloodied hand. “I should’ve been more careful.”
“They shouldn’t have attacked you,” he said kindly, wincing when the cloth padded a cut earned from the skirmish. “What were you doing down there, anyway?”
Penelo smiled grimly, cleaning the knife wound. “It’s your birthday tomorrow, so…”
He sighed. “You didn’t have to do that. You know I don’t like it when people buy me things.”
“You’ll like this,” she told him, thinking, And I can’t exactly return it.
“Penelo…”
“I know.” She draped the cloth over the bucket’s rim and looked guiltily at his hand. “I just thought you deserved something nice.”
He lifted his hand from her knee, cradling her cheek in his bruised palm. She looked at him with wet eyelashes, searched his grey eyes.
“I have something nice,” he said, and smiled.
She couldn’t help it; her lips tugged into a foolish grin and she put her hands over his, placing a light kiss to his palm. “Me too.”