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FIC: pheres dysseu, purchases
Jun. 28th, 2018 09:12 pm“Really? Really,” you repeat, dubious: “- you want that?”
Hinnom bounces back on zir heels and then forward again, eyes bright. “Yes,” they say.
No, that’s not accurate: they shout, and Marduk cringes, lifting her gaze to you in a silent appeal. “It’s not that expensive,” she says doubtfully. “Is it?”
“If they think we’re paying that price, they’re mad.” The toy has a core of woven reeds and mesh, fat and hard in turn. The arms are bones, made mobile through some clever stringing: the claws and the button-bright eyes are bits of horn, carefully smoothed and polished until the mottled ochre of the keratin fairly shines. The tag says that it’s a troll. It only resembles it in the faintest sense.
And it’s roughly twenty caegars too much.
“Then why’re we paying at all? We could just take it,” Hinnom says, curious, and for all that there’s a line forming between her eyebrows, just like that, Marduk is pullling out her credit-chip.
“Oh, don’t be silly. I’ll handle it. My treat!” The line lessens, just a little. But just for a moment, Marduk’s eyes flick down, taking in your outfit, the dark cherry of your symbol. “Are you sure?” she asks, her credit chip still lying between her fingers. “Twenty caegars isn’t.. too much?”
Your smile thins. You’re in Temasek, in the lowblood district: it doesn’t do to dress up over here. Your clothes are standard, cut for the heat. Your hair isn’t rolled. But just because you’re dressed down doesn’t mean there’s a need for that kind of unspoken discourtesy.
“I’m not paying twenty caegars,” you assure her, and you stalk into the store, leaving them to hustle after you.
(The story you spin is fake as the name’s you give. You think Marduk’s going to laugh, or cry, or both as you work - but when you pay fifteen and show her the five that the shopkeep gave you back, surreptitiously, she’s certainly impressed.)
