Errands... well that -was- the plan, anyway! (Open~!)

[Anonymous]

Humming a tune that she was making up as she went along (and doing surprisingly well at, all things considered), Ashalier strides along the side of the road with her hands in her pockets and a slight smile on her lips. It was rare for the writer to be in such a good mood, but she had managed to crank out an entire chapter's worth of material in that guide of hers without having to stop once... and if that wasn't cause for celebration in her world, then she didn't know what was. Dressed in her usual attire of faded olive green pants that she had hired a seamstress to sew a plethora of pockets onto and a simple black tank-top that hugged her torso, the gray elf's multi-tonal hair is pulled back into a ponytail that swishes behind her as she walks. Without the mass to hide behind, she's drawing more than a few lingering looks; ignoring them is far easier than acknowledging them, even moreso since it means that none of those leering folks are allowed to ruin her day.

What happens next even goes so far as to add to it, lovely day that it's been so far.

The tune she was humming dies out as the appetizing scent of roasted garlic catches her attention, the gray elf canting her head slightly to the side in thought as she stops in front of one of the many shops she usually passed on her way to the vendors she regularly patronized. Fishing around in her front left pocket, she pulls out her grocery list; the writing is impeccable and graceful, the mark of her trade. Hmm-ing softly to herself, she ponders whether or not the roasted garlic would go well with the contents of her list. The melon was right out, as was the rest of the fruit... maybe the carrots chopped fine and mixed in with some mashed potatoes? That was an idea that warranted her fishing out her quill, the writer scribbling it down in the margin after giving it a quick and precise dip in a small vial of ink that she kept on her most of the time. Having committed to the idea, she turns to go into the shop.

[Anonymous]

...and walks smack dab into a weathered man hobbling his way toward the same door. In her defense of course, it could very well have been his fault, since it wasn't like he could see her coming (she'd bumped into his left side after all). Cursing in seemingly every language but Common, Seifer stumbled forward and caught himself on the wall, barely avoiding a fall. If he'd swallow his pride and use a cane more often, he wouldn't be likely to have such a fit walking. Currently, the mahogany cane was tied to the side of his pack, situated between a well-worn hatchet and a dangling waterskin.

He took a brief moment to catch his breath before offering an apology through gritted teeth, though as far as he could tell it was just a grayish green figure that had run into him. He'd work out the details later. He had supplies to pick up. More specifically, the most important supply he could carry with him on the road. He leaned against anything he could on the way in, just trying to keep weight off his left leg for a while, and eventually caught the eye of one of the shopkeepers.

"Salt. Two pounds, please."

Not that he particularly enjoyed a high sodium intake, but with as often as he had to kill his own food, he needed to make sure the meat didn't spoil. Well, not quickly anyway, and salt helped prevent that from happening. As far as he was concerned, it was worth its weight in gold...he just hoped that wasn't what this particular shop planned on charging...

[Anonymous]

Hey, hey - she does not appreciate that comment about her mother! Nevermind that it's true... it's the principal--

Okay, so Ashalier really could care less about what (or who) he was cursing, if he had a target at all. What mattered to her is that they had collided... and, for once, she hadn't immediately felt the urge to pick up the nearest blunt, heavy object and attempt to smash him in the face. Was it because he was particularly attractive? Not really; she hadn't gotten much of a look at him, although she supposed that he smelled nice enough. Nah, it had to be how swimmingly her writing had gone. Either that or someone had lit up a particularly pleasant pipeful of something nearby. No matter - it's the end effect that matters, namely that she ends up following the considerably larger male into the spice shop, even being patient in waiting until he'd reached the coutner before stepping up beside him on the right. She wasn't trying to cut in line, of course... that's just where the roasted garlic bulbs were hung in a garland. Now that she was where Seifer could see her, maybe she'd see an upgrade in status from greyish-green blob... to actual being. As much bigger as he is, though, she at least tries to give him a couple feet of maneuvering room. How successful is she?

...he's got maybe a foot. Stupid small stores.

[Anonymous]

One short transaction later, and Seifer was once again prepared for the road. Well, mostly anyway. He still had to make up some more powder and ammunition, which would take some time. Not to mention money, at least when it came to procuring the right ingredients for the gunpowder. He was a little too far away from Connlaoth to simply buy some, and it wasn't exactly exported that often (or legally, for that matter). On his way out, Seifer was nearly run over by a servant rushing through the door, no doubt in the service of some person of nobility who couldn't be bothered to take the short trip down to the shop for themselves. While he managed to stay upright, he once again bumped into the woman from earlier, formerly known as the greenish-gray blur.

"...sorry, again. Small shop."