Stray Blood (Tag Cadence!)

[Thomasin Eldreth]

A swift, salty breeze swung in from the sea and caught her hair in tangles. It was a romantic notion, strolling along the streets of her district with the wind in her hair. But it was irritation, and of course, cold. The salt in the hair made it knot and dry out, and the cold caused the end of her nose and apples of her cheeks to redden. She pulled the shawl around her form more tightly, and continued the walk. One of her brothers had stormed off. A family dinner had caused mayhem, as usual. She wondered why her father bothered to even invite anyone. Thomasin was sure a great aunt of their had insulted her brothers fiancee and cursed her to being eternally barren. It had definitely made him angry, and he upturned his chair and stalked off with a large scowl on his face. Why did she have to go after him? He was a grown man, for goodness sakes.

"Thomasin! Tommie....!" she looked to her right, only to find....one of her cousins running past, hailing her with a hand. She glared at him, but she couldn't do much else as he ran further up the hill. Had someone died and not told her? Eldreths were only usually nice to each other if people were killed or dropped like flies. Or perhaps - she smiled impishly - father had news of a massive investment and wanted t boast about it in front of everyone. It would mean if she married soon, her father would provide her with a large dowry. Not that she would be marrying soon, anyway. Men seemed to avoid Midwives like a plague. Her 'ample bust' was commented on as plain as day, but Upperclassmen and Lowerclassmen alike. But her manner and voice? Nothing. It wasn't of an urgent concern for her. Midwifery was comfortable and pleasing for her. Women seeked her out for help, advice and emotional guidance.

Eli, her brother, was nowhere to be seen. He'd probably gone to visit a tavern to get steaming drunk. Although she didn't really mind. He was very sweet when he had had a few, and always told her his true, unabashed concerns. With a sign, she delved a hand into her large cleavage, and produced a small, silver flask. There was a robin intricately engraved into it's slightly tarnished surface. A gift from Sidra, a long time ago. The old Physician had told her that a drink was sometimes needed after certain days. People died, little ones passed, and the alcohol kept the insomnia at bay.

She let the strong liquor run down her throat, screwed the cap back on and replaced it back into her corset stays. She looked up, and ahead of her she caught a glimpse of ivory skin and jet hair. She pulled her shawl and her small, cropped coat into herself again and started the best semi-run she could. Running whilst tightly laced and heavily skirted was not the best of ideas, but it was all in how you pushed your rear out. Streamlining, and all that. She caught up and drew alongside her friend "Cadence! Why do you insist on being so elusive? I sent you a letter...oh, about three weeks ago. I presume you've got far better things to do, hmm?" she scowled deeply, catching her breath. Cadence had gotten used to her playful scowls a long time ago. Probably even more so than her family.

[Cadence]

What had Cadence been doing? Well, to be quite honest she’d taken up Joscelin’s slack and running a few numbers on some seemingly endless bit of parchment. Oh, that’s not to say that Mister Teimlia had grown lazy! Heaven knew he, too, had processed those same numbers time, and time again. It was the simple fact that these numbers had to do with her estate. It was the Sinclair’s plot that needed tending to, and while she trusted Joscelin’s numbers, and Jonas’ for that matter, Cadence still felt compelled to rework them time and again.

But, now? Now was a different matter all together. The small woman had hiked herself away from that cluttered desk, and welled her pen for a short break. Some fresh air would do her good, or so she’d thought, albeit walking upon Soleil hill was nigh always a separate matter altogether. Between the hill itself and the people living upon it, it couldn’t be considered so much a break as it was a distraction. And heaven knew she needed one.

It would be easy to blame Cadence for being “no fun” as of recent. She’d been all business, alternating between trips to the ports of Thalasa, and excruciatingly long business vacations to Dysprosium. At least those were equal parts business, and pleasure. Even so Cadence craved the normalcy her life once held, when she didn’t feel the need to work numbers or coax around crates upon the dock. Or even when she didn’t need to make those long train rides to and from Cat’s Paw on a monthly, if not bi-weekly basis. It was truly taking its toll on her being.

Still, cadence drew a thin jacket about the width of her form, folding lapel over lapel before stepping out onto that steep, and sun-bright hill, even at dusk the brightness is piercing, and assaulting to her eyes.

Cadence idly wonders what had happened. She’d once had friends that she spent day upon day with, on a regular basis. That was all before. Before she was introduced to the Rebellion, and before she became caught up in her own business work. She kept a close eye on such, and dare she say she was proud of what she’d accomplished thus far; her family’s business was moderately stable, at least for the time being.

Though this rebellion had it’s plus, despite her near-non-existent marriage, Miss Sinclair had formed quite the budding relationship.

But, wait. She manages to break free of the thoughts flooding the forefront of her mind; calming ones of an end to this rebellion, ones of a possible life for herself, and Joscelin, one where her family land is back where it belongs, and not within the Empress’ grip. Still, she knew that voice, she could pick it out of a crowd of a thousand.

“Thomasin?!” she replies. A smile growing upon the swell of her pout. It’s more than warm, and it seemed that all her worries had since been banished. It’s astounding what good a childhood friend could do for one’s morale, “Some things never change,” the young girl teases, gesturing to the flask within the lady’s hand. She presses her teeth upon the lower tier of her pout to stifle that overwhelming grin, “Sinclairs always have something better to do, Miss Eldreth,” she continues onwards, “Heaven knows my parents wouldn’t let me forget that when I was young, and I hate to say it, but they’re more than right,”

Her hands followed the suit of Thomasin’s own, sliding deep into the confines of her jacket pockets, “And what has a fine young woman like you been up to?” heaven knew she had stories upon stories to tell, between the simple way her family behaved, and what Cadence would consider the oddity that was her job. Cade, too, had a tale to weave, though they could wait.