Do You Know What This Is? [Sophia.]

[l y n d i s]

Thalasa.

Lyndis loved it. It was a second home from her, days away from her own, much smaller home town.

Still, no matter how much Lyndis loved Thalasa, and no matter how much she begged her father, there was business to be done elsewhere. Other places needed those supplies they shipped forth. Or at least that’s what her father had said. Fruits, and vegetables which had become on short-supply the past few years due to the revocation of nigh all Elysium’s growing land. Camille was a cruel, cruel woman. Fish, however, stayed in Thalasa.

It had been a sickeningly long ride to the state capital. Though nowhere near comparable to the ship ride to Thalasa itself. Still, Lyndis couldn’t recall a time she’d been this far inland. It was beautiful in her own right, and busy, to boot! Though Miss Matthias missed the sight of the ocean. Even within the confines of Elysia, she’d managed to keep sight of such glimmering horizon lines. She’d been able to sea the water coax the sun downwards. And she wasn’t sure how long she’d be able to stay within a place as Elysium.

Still, Lyndis needed to push these thoughts from the forefront of her mind. She worked stalls for what came out to be three months out of the year; a week per month, weather permitting. So here she is. With her rump settled upon that clothed tabletop. She’s mostly watching the people watch by; gaze wavering only to check the Square’s overhead clock.

You see, approximately once every ten-to-fifteen minutes, Miss Matthias took the time to, well, victimize someone. These were all busy people, who no doubt had lives to live, and places to be. Perhaps their own shop to run. Still, Lyn pulls these folk to the side so she may talk-up her own foreign produce, with her cheek pressed close to the other’s and her fingertips playing out intricate tales of the origins of this fruit, or how this carrot had been nurtured from a single, withered seed. It’d been hand-grown and cared for the way her very own mother had cared for her as a small girl.

And it was about that time again.

Lyndis is quick to bump her hips away from that stand only to saunter forth.

The young girl who’s hand she snatches up is a pretty little thing with coaxing blue eyes and mousey brown hair. Her cheekbones high, and her nose, well, it was adorable. Lyndis is almost jealous over this woman’s pretty face, and petite form. Almost. It’s only the thought that this girl probably worked a job that made her miserable which saved Lyn’s self esteem. Despite this not being her forte, this customer interaction, Lyn did love what she did. She loved the traveling, and the almost dual citizenship which it offered her. Perks that no other job aside a ship hand could offer.

“Excuse me, you’ve a moment, don’t you?” she asks of this young woman, that accent of hers, strange and foreign even in such a diverse place, clips those consonants, cutting her words short; quick. though she clearly, and deliberately leaves no time for her to respond, “Of course you do! I’ve something to show you!” It’s at this point that Miss Matthias is drawing the pretty girl closer, and towards that stall she’s been working. She’s in her space, and that hand which had been gripping upon her wrist lifted to knock the girl’s soft hair from her features, tucking it delicately behind the ear.

She’s creating a personal connection in her attempts to get a sale out of this woman. “Do you know what this is, Dear?” she questions, reaching back to pluck up some fruit; an apple, of course she’d know what it was. Assuming she was of moderate intelligence.

Lyndis awaits an answer, a smile curling to her soft lips.

[Sophia]

Sophia blinked in the sunlight.

She seldom left the confines of the crisp white lab where she worked. Only when she had checked the supplies and realized that she was running low of some if her most precious powders did she venture out. She had thrown off the lab coat and put over her heavy cream and black striped broadcloth dress, a long black leather jacket and added a pair of black gloves; her magnifying goggles still hung around her neck.

She had walked down the street, the black satin petticoats underneath adding to the weight and the confining corset making it a touch difficult to breath. She was grateful it was only a short walk, as she had sat down in on of the plush trolley seats. She had taken it all the way down do the market place; uncomfortably aware of the fact that she wasn't so used to such crowds.

She was becoming a recluse.

The sights and the sounds of the market assaulted her senses, and she had to blink a couple of times to catch her bearings. The massive crowds soon engulfed her and took her into the heart of the quarter, the stalls. The breeze touched her skin, and it was cool. A welcome respite from the heat of the bodies that pressed around her.The pungent smell of fish mingled with the tart smell of the chicken, as she moved on and passed the food stands.

She casually touched the moneybag that she had placed on the inside of her bodice, so no one could fetch it, unless the placed there hand in a compromising place. It held a good deal of money, as well as permits for some of the things that she would need to by, lest the police should harass her.

A merchant called to her to taste a sample of his wares and she obliged, she was for the most part willing to try anything at the market, figuring that the seldom lived experience was something to be enjoyed to it's fullest. She sighed happily as the honey and metallic taste of the chicken mingled with the sharp taste of the wine she'd had with lunch.As she moved away from the stall; she figured she might buy some of the chicken later in the day.

It was common knowledge as the day wore on the merchants would be more inclined to depart with their wares at a more reasonable price, now what was reasonable to a merchant and what was reasonable to the buyer was something that would be agreed upon by some haggling. That age old bartering system was something Sophia enjoyed immensely. It was fun and even though she often paid more than what she should most of the time; the experience was worth it. There were very few times Sophie came away from a shop empty handed, mostly when the keeper had left a bad taste in her mouth.

She listened with half an ear to the din of the people calling to one another, merchants calling out their wares, children calling to one another, and inevitably mother's calling out to children. She was aware that no one would be calling to her. It wasn't cause for her to be melancholy, just a simple fact she had very few friends and most of them lived in Thalasa. So it came as quite a shock to her system when she felt a had reach out and pluck at hers. She was immediately on guard, her hand going to the small dagger that she kept tucked securely in the folds of her skirts.

She turned sharply to the girl, her eyes guarded and wary. She glanced over the girl, and noted that she had bright hair and even brighter eyes. The girl seemed to be at ease in this setting, and seemed also determined. Sophia cocked her head to the side and listened to the girls little speech, wondering how many people she had given it to today, and allowed herself to be led over to the stall, although it seemed that she had little choice in the matter; a fact she accepted with a good nature. A faint amused smile curved Sophia's lips as the girl continued, her ears trying place the accent. It seemed familiar to her, yet she was unable to find where it came from.

She stiffened a bit at the unaccustomed interaction, and was thrown off momentarily at the touch. She blinked a little and try to catch the last few words the woman said, and when catching them the smile came back again over her features. She looked at the apple, noting it's bright red appearance and the juicy look it had. It had no doubt been picked in it's prime. She thought briefly of the apple tree in the back yard of her father's home, and felt a slight twinge of pain, a cramp of fleeting homesickness, which soon passed.

"Well I am going to go out on a limb and say a Hartscore Apple, presumably picked in it's prime, unless they are coloring apples now,"She said in a calm amiable tone. It appeared that she was going to get her wish of banter after all.

[l y n d i s]

She’s no slouch, that’s for sure! A warm sort of smile crosses those soft lips of hers. There’s something absolutely wondrous about someone who knows what they’re talking about. Albeit there’s a thin line to such a thing. There’s a point when the simplistic sharing of knowledge turns into what feels more like a competition for the arrogant and pretentious than it is the answering of an easy question.

This dark haired beauty is fringing on that line.

Still, as a vendor, Lyndis is obliged to simply smile and issue a slow nod of confirmation. Her fingers curl about that brilliantly ruby fruit, before an index finger offers up. It’s obvious that a point was about to be made, albeit not such a scientific one, “Brainy one, aren’t ya, sweets,” Lyndis observes, that smile settled to the soft swell of her pout widening. “But!” Oh, and here comes that selling point! Or something of the like, “This here apple was not only plucked in it’s prime, it was hand nurtured,” Lyndis knew damn well with the development of machines that this art would soon be lost on the world, “By my people, raised from one of those gorgeous little blossoms, to adult hood,”

Oh, if only the common folk knew what sort of work this entailed in such wild land. Nothing was sacred to the wild life, not orchards, nor plots of vegetable land, nor even their own small villages. Someone quite literally needed to keep an eye on these fruits at all hours. And even Lyndis, herself, could properly appreciate such a thing. After all, if Lyn was bored here within the streets of Elysium, then she could only imagine how bored those guardsmen must be simply achingly disinterested.

“Hear me out here, Love,” Lyndis coos with a knit to her brows, “I need to get the hell out of here. This place is killing me,” there was no denying such. As much as Lyn was proud of her culture, and her people’s way of being, to be quite honest she was sick of speaking on such. She’d been doing so for what was hours now, and Lyn at least needed a break. “So how about I cut you a deal,” Lyn breathes.

A small hand is slipping within the skirt to her work apron. A small blade lingers inside; it’s sticky with various juices; apples, apricots, and the like. Still, it would suffice. Lyn’s rump is settling upon the lip of her cart, that knife digging easily into the brilliant flesh of that apple. A wedge peels away easily and Lyn can only offer it up to this girl, that sliver balanced precariously upon the slick knife point, “If you’d like to sample,” Miss Matthias clarifies with a coaxing sort of smile.

She supposed it wouldn’t so much matter if this woman took her up on her offer. Lyndis was out of here, either way!