A Sweltering Day at the Market

[Guest]

It was only eleven o’clock in the morning, and already the weather was a sweltering upper-ninety-something degrees, with highs looking to be in the triple-digits by mid-afternoon. It was perfect weather for a holiday spent at South City’s very own tourist trap, the Schlitterbahn on Crater Lake. Notably the world’s largest waterpark, it was host to not only an amusement park, but also a slew over delightfully overpriced restaurants, shops, and hotels for out-of-towners to enjoy. For the locals who purchased seasonal passes, it served as a reprise from days when the weather was just too hot. It was while walking amongst the open-air stalls of the Bazaar, that Irma starting to regret not purchasing one such pass.

She had gone for wearing some of her more airy clothing today—a loose-fitting tunic, jean-styled leggings, and sandals. Designed with asymmetrical draping, a cream-colored front, and purple floral patterned back, her tunic was a more contemporary rendition of the traditional the Ishavallan cut. Long and flowing, it breathed well. However, in this heat, it only provided a mild relief. Still sticky from sweat, the fringe of her hair was starting to make her forehead itchy and grimy. She hated that feeling—it made her eyes feel stingy and what little makeup she wore heavy. With weather like this, she would probably have to take at least three showers before the end of the day. Running her fingers through her fringe and pushing it back in an effort to alleviate the sweaty, icky-ness that she felt, Irma sighed and looked forlornly toward the lake with all its watery comfort—all the while not noticing that, when she did so, the styling wax she used that morning caused her hair to stand on end in a horrendous cross between spikey emo-hair and a pompadour.

Perhaps if she could arrange some free time off, she would wrangle up the funds to go in on a family pass with some friends. After all, group passes were always cheaper, when divided up, than that individual pass. That would need to be something to look into later, though. Today, there were errands to run—namely, dropping the deposit off at the bank, before picking up lunch for herself and her father on her way back to their shop. The bank run had been completed, already. Next, she needed to secure some grub.

Aside from being known for its water park, South City was also a major source for the growing and exportation of agricultural goods—most of which were produced at the Hydroponic Gardens, or the Alchemical Fields. As a result, most of the foodstuff available in the area was the product of agricultural alchemy.

As if over-processing and hormone-grown is not questionable enough, she remembered Hyder, an old friend she first met in high school who later studied to become a homeopathic doctor after graduation, always argued, Now they are using that heretic alchemy of theirs to grow food? This, I’m sure, is the reason why cancer has become so endemic. Consuming all that processed food can’t be good for the body. It is not as it was intended.

Irma smiled thinly at the memory. Although she generally held no qualms against alchemy, especially when conducted in one of its more reputable forms (as a metallurgical science), even she had to admit that the notion of applying alchemy toward horticulture left a bad taste in her mouth. While she was not sure if there was any conclusive scientific studies to collaborate Hyder’s theory about alchemically processed food being detrimental toward heath, the rise of severe health conditions alongside the rise of alchemical horticulture made her wonder if there was, indeed, a correlation. Or, it could all be just a coincidence. At any rate, there was enough of legitimate concern going around about processed food in general that give Irma cause to decide that it would be better to save than sorry—and go the organic route when it came to certain items. This brought her to her next stop: The Ishvallan Market. If one wanted to have alchemy- and hormone-free organic good, the Ishvallen Food Market was one of the few places to find a good variety.

“Salam wa aleikum (Peace be upon you),” greeted the familiar market’s Baker-- Baker was a heavier set, older man with deeply tanned skin and sand-colored hair--as Irma stepped up to his counter, lured by the smell of fresh-baked bread. The Baker had been working at the Ishvallan Market’s bakery & deli section for what seemed like forever, or at least for as long as Irma could remember. Whenever Irma stopped by, he would always welcome her with those words.

"Wa aleikum ah salam (And also peace be upon you),” Irma replied politely in return, before adding in Amestrian, ”How’s business been?“

”Could be better, could be worse,” the Baker shrugged, though not without a note of humor to his voice and a smile in his ruddy eyes. “I take what I get. Now come, sadeakaty, what can I get for you, today?”

Irma looked over the sandwich menu before ordering: “I’d like a shawarma and a falafel and… and order of grape leaves too. To go. Please.” Then, noticing a loaf of fresh, zatar seasoned sourdough bread, she added, “Ah… And I’ll take a loaf of that as well.”

“You got it. It will be just one moment.” The Baker nodded before getting the order prepared.

Once the food was ready, Irma paid for the mail, and traded farewells with the Baker. She then set off to make her way across the bazaar and back toward toward her father’s shop: Faber Jewlery & Watches. Already, it was starting to grow busy with customers, despite the heat. It looked like the tourist season was really starting to come into full swing, now that school was out for the summer.

[Guest]

The day it was hot, and the sun shone very VERY brightly in the sky so high! The now dark haired, and dark eyed Ishvallan child stared upwards to the clouds above and marveled at it as she always did. She couldn't help it, she had been in a coma for sooooooo long! She had almost forgotten how.. well, how AMAZING everything was! And yet it wasn't the same sky, the same sun, or the same clouds. She found herself considering everything just a bit differently than she used to because one very major fact had changed. She was no longer human. Thats right, she wasn't a human anymore and that was what had saved her. That was the reason she had woken up again, why she didn't match the white haired man lagging behind her as they strode through the marketplace of South City. For a non-human, she was dressed quite cutely though in a little white sleeveless shirt with only a couple of frills about her collar bone. Khaki shorts covered her lower half with sandals to go with, her sword hidden inside its big black case strapped to her back. Her two daggers were also inside the case as well. Her papa gave them to her and she treasured them greatly. It was unlikely that she would be found separated from them now.

They had gotten to see their parents the past couple of days! It was so good to see their shining faces again and her mother was just as warm as she remembered her being when she was younger. That was such an odd term now... "when she was younger." She had only technically aged a couple of years, so why did she feel so much older? It didn't matter, she reverted back to the energetic child that she had always been when she saw her mama and papa. They didn't need to know all the details as to why she had woken up, not unless Toss said it was ok. Heehee, they still called her Shove too! They had marveled at her now black hair and dark brown/black eyes since... well.. that wasn't the daughter they remembered looking at. She was the weirdest Ishvallan ever. BUT WHO CARED! This was her day, with her big brother that she loved so very very much! It was time to have fun! To have.... *gasp* AN ADVENTURE!

"Come on big bro, don't lag behind!" She called, giggling as she tugged at his hand. She paused and turned to face him, her hands on her hips as she stuck her tongue out at him. "I know you are feeling better from before." She teased him, suddenly letting go and skipping a couple more steps ahead of him. Grinning, she twirled and darted off further into the bazaar, knowing he could find her easily amongst the crowd. She spread her arms a bit so she flew like.. like a.. uh. uh.. uhhhhh... AIRPLANE! Yes! She was an airplane! Giggling brightly, the youth sped between stalls but always at such a pace that her brother wouldn't be left behind. She curved back around and met up with him again, sliding her arm through his with another of her little laughs. "Are you having fun big bro? Are you? Are you?" She asked, suddenly a bit more serious than before. She wanted him to have fun. She didn't want him to worry about her like he must have after the event. She had taken to calling it the event since she wasn't sure what else to call it. You could just call it the crash. I could, but thats so.... bleh. I don't like it. Then call it what you wish. I will! She often had conversations like this in her mind, chatting with the voice that had kept her company while she was in her coma. Now she knew what it was, and it was a constant reminder that she wasn't like the people around them anymore.

The serious air about her was immediately lost as she saw a jewelry shop come into view, immediately pausing and pointing with a finger, "Ah!" Breaking from her brother once more, she tore off the street (managing to somehow avoid bumping into anyone) to the window and leaned close, resisting the urge to plaster her face against the surface. They would have to clean it afterwards and she didn't want to create more work for them! Awww but there were so many SHINY!!!! "Toss! Toss! Come lookie! Come lookie quick!" She called, beckoning him fervently as her eyes turned to the pretty things in the window again. Her dark eyes grew wide as she stared at a particular small hair pin that was in the shape of a bird with its wings spread amongst flowers, little sparkles seeming to grow within those brown depths. She wanted it. She had to have it. "Toss..... Toss I want that. Can you buy me that please?" She asked, without even looking away from that pretty hair pin.

[Toss Ivanova]

The news said it would go on like this for weeks, and by news he meant the weather. Ugh, the weather. By no means should it ever be allowed to be this hot. He was on vacation from work for three days and in those three days they were ravaged by an intense May heat wave, searing away all logical thought and smearing it with sweat. Their parents house didn't have air conditioning. How did he miss not buying them air conditioning?! Half the time they spent there, Toss was dunking his head in the coldest water he could find and then standing in the freezer until sated, which usually took about twenty minutes. Rinse and repeat. All the while, he listened to his parents rave about Hanna's awakening, bathing her in love and all the gifts they could afford without going bankrupt. A lavish meal was cooked for dinner (for that, Toss was grateful), but he returned to straddling the freezer in woe of hot weather.

The main point of everything was that Hanna was happy. Seeing her smile--seeing her flit about their home again was more then enough to allow Toss to smile back. His father took off work for the occasion too, hanging about and busing himself with all sorts of things as if he couldn't keep still. His mother...god, she was all over the place with glee. Their daughter was okay. "Isn't that great, Toss, your sister is all better!" Because it was his fault to begin with that she ended up like that. He was the one that put her into a coma, yet he was also the one to bring her out of it. That made his answer more than simple. Yeah, it's great. They didn't need to know. There was no requirement saying that to be nonhuman one's parents must be informed. Toss never told them about himself, therefore he certainly didn't need to tell them about Hanna. God forbid they'd have a hissyfit, have heart attacks, and cause Toss and Hanna to be another set of parentless siblings. So, no, he wasn't going to tell them and he wasn't going to allow them to move to Carraig. Again, their parents had broached the idea of moving, but Toss insisted that they had an attachment to the house (in which he now despised due to lack of air conditioning). Eventually the younger pair won, almost making Toss feel guilty for the whole affair. ...Maybe he'd buy them a dog to take care of. It wasn't such a bad idea.

"Come on big bro, don't lag behind!" jarred him from his thoughts back to reality where... ugh. Brown leather boots adorned with buckles up to his knees dragged in the dust that clouded the air with so many other walking people. Swarms of human stench lingered in his nostrils as each inhaled breath plagued his mind with the odor. Choking on it, he waded on through the heat-induced haze, squinting through aviators into the bright land of Ishvallan vendors yelling out their newest sale months old. Black baggy pants flared out around the boots, giving him the look of an Arabian knight straight from Aladin. ...Except he was sweating his fucking balls off!! A black beater had been on his shoulders, but now lay discarded somewhere in one of the trashcans far behind for some lucky beggar. He was shirtless, laced with sweat, and constantly holding his white bangs up from his forehead to avoid any extra heat. Hands sticky with the perspiration soaking his hair, he wiped them on his pants. If anyone were eyeing him up other than his sister looking back at him, he didn't notice shit. Rippling abs accenting his abdomen, untouched by tattoos or any scars were absolutely eye-catching in the somewhat conservative crowd. What, he didn't care. "I know you are feeling better from before."

"I'm trying," he whined, picking up his pace slightly while ignoring the itch of sweat growing again on his forehead. It was like hell. That's what this was; it was hell. Just straight up, plain hell on earth. Though his injures had all healed up completely and he was no longer dying from Vanity's ridiculous poison, he still felt nuances of exhaustion here and there from it. Like now. Now he was about ready to collapse in the shade or jump in the damn lake. This was too much. He hated shorts; never would wear them--upright despised them. And so...he suffered. Not like he hated the heat or anything. There were days when he really just wanted to bask in it, but walking in 102 degree weather in long pants was suicide. Nothing more nothing less: suicide. He witnessed as Hanna twirled off like an uncatchable butterfly, sailing off into the sky nevermore. He reached out a hand into the blistering air, trying to see through pinpricked pupils into the crowd. Of course, she stood out just as much as he so it was impossible to lose her, but that didn't mean he did not feel worry for her. She returned after a short time to a male Ishvallan with his tongue hanging out and looking like a dog shoved into an oven in Xing (didn't they eat dogs there?). She slid his arm around his sleeked with sweat, making his shy away instantly.

"Ugh don't touch me I feel gross. Can we go to the water park or something please?"

"Are you having fun big bro? Are you? Are you?"

"Y-yeeeah... or I would if we got something to drink/went to the water park." He wanted to have fun. Well, he was having fun, but he was also suffering while having fun. The two together somewhat canceled each other out, but there was always a remedy to yank out the suffering part. WATER. Something cold. Something to level out his body temperature...ANYTHING. Toss lowered his sunglasses and looked her in the eyes, still getting used to the fact that they were so dark. His own red blared into the distance like an out of control steam engine, and rested on the name tag of a Jewelry shop. Oh no.

"Toss! Toss! Come lookie! Come lookie quick!" Alright, alright he was coming. Sporting a half smile, he pressed his face up against the glass, leaving and instant smudge ignorantly. He only noticed after he pulled away from seeing the hair pin glinting in the sunlight of a bird's wings spread over bronze flowers. Shit. Fervently wiping at the glass with his bag, he managed to make it look presentable (in a man's eyes). Not bad, not bad. "Toss..... Toss I want that. Can you buy me that please?"

"Sure." He didn't bat an eye at the price tag, before storming inside and whipping out Crieg bills his credit card. "Go grab the one you want."

[Guest]

The trek back to the shop had not taken too long—it was just couple of blocks away from the market at most. Situated amongst a street of older commercial real estate, the two-story building held a recessed façade that contained an arched, glass entryway framed by black pains and large, white brick. Aside the doorway stood a pair of tall, ornately black lanterns. The lanterns, doorknobs, as well as the patterning upon glass of the doorway itself, were trimmed with gold leafing that lent an antiquated look to the shop. Oak leaf wall plaque was fastened against the brick, next to the entryway, which read in a brush-script font: FABER Inc. – Fine Jewelry and Watches. On either side of the doorway were large display windows through which passersby could see a glittering display of watches and jewelry. Beyond the display, one could see an overall creamy looking gallery. The interior’s carpeting was pale, a grayish beige in color. To add warmth, the walls and the polished wood framework of the glass display cases were colored in varying hues of natural and golden oak stains. Interspaced among the walls were also mirrors in which customers could view how the jewelry looked when worn.

Upon stepping through the doors, Irma was met with a blast of cold air, and she was nearly tempted to just stand there for the next few minutes—or days. Soon, though, the chill grew to be a little too much, and Irma stepped out of the doorway to head further inside. Crossing the gallery and heading toward the stairway that led to the second-floor workshop, she waved a hello to Jasmine. Jasmine was a woman in her early forties with curly black hair and brown eyes, who had been the shop’s manager and bookkeeper for the last twenty years. The woman truly had a thing for both numbers and people—it was thanks to her and her contacts that the business did as well as it did.

Once upstairs, Irma found her father to be buried under a pile of gear and cogs—working fastidiously on the repair of an old grandfather clock that had come in yesterday. It was a rare make, and he had been excited to work on it. Not wanting to disturb him from his work, Irma set his food down on his workstation before heading over to her own. She made quick work of her own lunch, before heading over to the restroom to freshen up from today’s outside excursion into the hellish heat.

Two hours after she had returned to the upstairs workshop, Irma was headed back downstairs—looking for something to do. She had finished with her most recent commission earlier that morning. After checking with Jasmine to see if any new commissions or repair requests had come in since here absence (there had been none), Irma was found with a rare block of free time. She was left wondering what to do with it—lacking anything to do tended to make her feel antsy. It was that lack of stuff to do that ended up driving her to perusing the gallery’s contents, meticulously rearranging all the display items to make sure that they were all nice and even, before she promptly moved on to wiping fingerprints and smudges off of all the glass display cases and window. It was during this sudden onset of OCD that she noticed the appearance of two new customers.

The first, a dirk-haired young woman clad in a sleeveless white shirt and kahkis. She seemed to be bursting with excitement over something she had seen. Irma also noticed the large back case that she carried on her back, and wondered what could be held within. It was a little bit odd to see someone carrying something like that around. She knew a few artists that used them to transport large paper or posters; likewise, her sensei back in high school had used something similar for his practice swords. The second was a scrawny and pasty man with no shirt who seemed to find it a good idea to press his sweaty face against the display window. Irma’s eye twitched upon noticing the smudgy mess that the male left behind on the glass—the glass she had just cleaned not five minutes ago. At least the man seemed to notice what he did, as that he soon used his bag to attempt wipe the sweat off the window. Instead, though, what was left behind was a streaked mess of drying sweat.

Irma signed—she’d have to polish that window again.

She watched for a moment as the man stormed inside, while passing that looked to be a credit card to the woman. Then, after putting aside her cleaning supplies, Irma pasted a cheerfully forced smile onto her face—one that probably looked more like a pained grimace—and approached.

“Hello,” she greeted, “Is there anything that I can help you find?”

[Guest]

She had noticed that her brother had lost his shirt somewhere (should she go find it for him?), but it wasn't until she had asked her question that she realized something was wrong. "Y-yeeeah... or I would if we got something to drink/went to the water park." Oh. He wasn't having fun at all!!! Her dark eyes stared up at him for that brief moment, searching them as she lost the youthful cheer and seemed to be examining him like she were eight years older than she was now. He was lying. He had to be lying. He wasn't having fun, he was hot and miserable! And she hadn't noticed! What kind of a little sister was she huh? A bad one! Ooo shiny.....

And now here she stood before all of those pretties, her hands hovering just inches from the glass as she leaned as close as she dared to. It was a wonder she wasn't in the same state as her brother, after all her dark hair conducted the sun's light and heat more than his white hair would! She supposed it was because she wasn't thinking about it. Well, she was wearing light colored clothes too and those helped to keep one cool. Why in the world had her big bro decided to wear black? Didn't that conduct heat? It was no wonder he was hot and miserable! Finally tearing her eyes away to stare up at him, her brows furrowed to see him wiping away his sweat from the glass. She wouldn't yell at him for it because she had been very bad. She hadn't noticed the state her brother was in. She would cut him some slack, and she decided that as of this very moment. And he was buying her shiny. "Sure." The biggest grin ever began to spread across her pale features, jumping up and down in her complete and total OMGIGETSHINY excitement!!!

Bouncing after her brother as he stormed into the store, she hummed at the sensation of air conditioning, soon falling into step behind him as he pulled out his credit card. Was it ok? Was it really really? Taking the card from her brother, she jumped up and kissed his sweaty cheek without a single care in the world as to the potential grossness of that, giggling ever so merrily. "You are the bestest big bro EVER!" She stared up at him in her complete adoration before realizing she would need to find someone to talk to about getting the pin out for her. And sure enough, as her eyes began to search an Ishvallan woman strolled up to her with a forced smile on her features. Hanna was entranced for a moment as she stared up at her, blinking twice even as she was greeted. “Hello,” "Hello pretty lady..." “Is there anything that I can help you find?” OH RIGHT! HAIRPIN! Hanna quickly snapped out of her daze and shook her head with some vigor before she blushed and giggled at her foolishness, brushing a couple of stray hairs from her face.

"Umm... could I please have the bronze hairpin in the window with the bird with its wings extended over the flowers? It's so pretty!!" She asked almost shyly, side-step skipping over to look at it from the other side. Don't forget to ask something.... Oh, right. "It won't oxidize, right?" She suddenly asked, seeming all normal and genuinely interested as she stared up at the pretty lady.

[Toss Ivanova]

God, it was so easy to make her happy; it nearly surprised him. He wanted her to be happy, and sacrificing a little of his fortune to do so was like getting a shot at the doctor's. Wait. Woah, woah, back up. That didn't work. Okay, for most people it worked, but... it wasn't really possible for him? Like, if he were to go get a shot, it was more truthful to say that the needle would snap in half and the doctor would freak. Yep, that was the reality. So yeah, there you have it. He barely believed it himself, but he was fucking Greed. He knew how much he wanted things, and he knew that he always got them. That was what it meant to be him, right? Hanna was happy. That was what he wanted. It was simple. And yeeeah what else was there left to say about it, really? He caught her grin out of the corner of his eye as the door opened to his will. That grin. That was what he wanted--what he had wanted the entire time she slept. While he blamed himself--while he was bridging on self-hatred, now--now, he could finally smile back. He had managed before when she was in a coma, but never like this. He could really laugh, not drunk, not for show, but really laugh. This was him. And it was weird because it felt like he was meeting himself for the first time.

Nice to meet you. Toss froze. No, not because of the voice; he was used to that loud, whiny shit. He froze because the sweat covering his body was turning to ice beneath a giant fan of freon. The air conditioning was licking at his soul, but it felt so good he closed his eyes for half a second to enjoy the pleasure of avoiding heat stroke. "You are the bestest big bro EVER!" That's right. The card vanished from his fingers, but he barely noticed, stationed exactly where he stopped the moment he felt the air temperature drop drastically. Thank you. No really, thank you. Dear gods of air conditioning, I owe you one. Toss found a small smirk fall on his lips, following after his sister with his eyes. Sometimes he wondered about her. Touching a sweaty guy...kissing his cheek? She didn't really do those things when she was little. He shuddered. Okay maybe it was cold in here, but seriously. He sighed after her, moving like frosty the snowman further inside where the temperature evened out to a sustainable level. Alright, he could live in this. However, they had to leave...one day.

“Hello--"

"Hello pretty lady..."

"--is there anything that I can help you find?” Maybe an attention span for my little sister?

"Umm... could I please have the bronze hairpin in the window with the [blah blah blah blahhhhhhhhhhhh]!! ... It won't oxidize, right?"

Toss folded his arms across his chest, suddenly feeling uncomfortable with so little clothes. Whoops. Shouldn't have ditched the shirt. "Before you answer that..." Toss frowned slightly, eyeing the non-sibling Ishvallan with slight discomfort. That fake smile...just ugh. "You should really practice that more. I'm not convinced you're happy. Really, you shouldn't smile if you aren't happy; it's unbefitting." He paused, glancing at Hanna, hoping to confirm that he was justified with not being an asshole. Was he being nitpicky? Well, he was questioning himself so maybe he was over-stepping the typical human boundaries of non-asshole-like behavior. He shrugged, giving a sympathetic sorry-can't-really-help-it-sometimes look. "Name's Toss and this is Hanna. Mind if we chill in here for a little after we purchase that?" With eyes dead center--a red hue straight on with no falter, he desperately sought refuge via a white lie: "It hasn't been too long since the hospital." It wasn't a lie, really, which was why it made it so easy to exaggerate. It was opinion and it was vague. It hadn't been too long since Hanna woke up anddd he didn't specify if he was talking about Hanna or himself, but it was implied that he meant her. Who the hell would make that kind of request pertaining to themselves? He sure wouldn't.

"Damn, it's hot out there. By the way...do you take credit cards?"

[Shula Brighton]

{BUMP}

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