Things had gone smoothly, and Simon felt (again) rather confident in his prowess as a Maoin. He cleared his throat lightly, examining the streets of his home, Suna. The air was slightly humid, not uncomfortably so, as his lithe form took languid steps on the broken roads. He placed a hand in his pocket, dark shirt bunched at his wrist to allow the action, and breathed deeply.
My mentor would be pleased. I dare to say I've surpassed him! A smile broke onto his effeminate features, and Simon shook his head lightly. Perhaps not. Iyael, with his age, has held the eye of that upper-class woman for a while now.
His dark green eyes turned skyward. "A day without rain."
The soft honeyed voice caught a woman's attention nearby. From the corner of his eye, Simon noticed and turned his head a bit to give her a half-smile. She reddened and smiled back, continuing to purchase a head of lettuce and pineapple. He chuckled. Maybe he'll have a new client soon? That's always a pleasure.
The over-whelming urge to sing tickled his throat, but Simon merely hummed. The hums release any pressured urges, which come frequently, and helped him hold off on wasting his songs until needed. It was barely heard over the light bustle of people, and he wondered if he should consider 'advertising' his vocal abilities one day. His lips pursed, The House wouldn't approve, I'm sure. I'll have to inquire whether it would be selfish of myself. ...Ah, but business is business; I think there won't be a problem, should I ask.
