golden_anvil (
golden_anvil) wrote in
nexus_crossings2021-09-17 02:15 pm
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saffron wind
Not everyone walks calmly into the streets of the Nexus. Not everyone is so distracted as to not see when the stones shift and the shops and buildings aren’t quite the same. She’s staring down into a sketchbook in her hands and muttering to herself for a fair distance before it even occurs to her to look up. Light brown eyes peer out from a mess of dark curls pinned up around her shoulders. She purses her lips in some amount of confusion and looks to her left, her right, and finally turns about in a small circle.
This stocky stranger traces her gaze over the various buildings as she slowly closes the sketchbook and returns it to a satchel strung across her shoulder by a long strap. After a moment of taking in her surroundings, she nods quietly and sighs. She shifts two things strapped across her back and shoulders: a satchel bag and a large pole with one end wrapped up in cloth. In less than a minute, she has the bag slung around her shoulders and over her back in the style of a backpack. The pole finds it’s way into her hands, the covered end pointing upward as she turns in a slow circle.
“This is…different.” Her voice is soft and deep, but quickly taking on a worried tone. The pole rests in the crook of one arm as she gathers up her skirt to tie off around her waist. Her leather sandals gently hug her all the way up to her knees. “All right, I’ll bite. Who did I offend this time?”
This stocky stranger traces her gaze over the various buildings as she slowly closes the sketchbook and returns it to a satchel strung across her shoulder by a long strap. After a moment of taking in her surroundings, she nods quietly and sighs. She shifts two things strapped across her back and shoulders: a satchel bag and a large pole with one end wrapped up in cloth. In less than a minute, she has the bag slung around her shoulders and over her back in the style of a backpack. The pole finds it’s way into her hands, the covered end pointing upward as she turns in a slow circle.
“This is…different.” Her voice is soft and deep, but quickly taking on a worried tone. The pole rests in the crook of one arm as she gathers up her skirt to tie off around her waist. Her leather sandals gently hug her all the way up to her knees. “All right, I’ll bite. Who did I offend this time?”
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She smiles a little.
"I'm Esther."
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Lysandra purses her lips for a couple of seconds. "That's an old name. It's actually a variation of Persian. It means 'star'. Whoever named you put a great deal of care into their choice."
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Esther motions to the bench.
"Do you want to sit? That pole looks awfully heavy."
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Lysandra quickly undoes the knot holding her skirt up, letting it tumble back down below her knees. She sets the pole down carefully and sets her feet over it.
"Then again, I'm used to holding things like this. You might find it quite a burden. A lot of my family is remarkably strong, in their own ways."
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That's not true—she just doesn't have a lot of self-confidence.
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"I'm a doer, not a watcher. But still."
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