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Why Should I Worry [Open]


Does this dress make my butt look big?
DAO/DA2 Timeline
(( 2nd Firstfall, 35 Dragon – Afternoon – Hightown Market))

Hot. Far too hot. Then again, it was always hot. Much much hotter than the Korcari wilds that was for certain. Not that Torin thought much of his homeland these days – the blight had come and gone and changed him right along with the lands the hoard had marched over and destroyed. Still, as hard as Nadia tried, you couldn't take all of the wild out and Torin was hardly someone described as all work and no play.

This afternoon was no different, the chasind mage seated smack dab in the middle of the marketplace, fully occupying a bench near a gated tree. Currently, his legs were up and his long dark blue-black hair was set loose, spilling in soft waves over either shoulder. Leather patchwork pants covered his legs and today must have been a special occasion because he had actually managed to put on a shirt with his leather sleeveless duster. Mind you, he had at some point disposed of the sleeves of said top, but the color was pretty – a dark purple that paired well with his green eyes.

A slender finger ran it's way down the bar surrounding the plant life, currently ignoring (or more likely oblivious) to the scathing glances and muttered comments coming from a nearby vendor. Why they put bars around the trees here he still couldn't fully comprehend – but then again, Kirkwall seemed to like putting bars on all sorts of things. Chains too. Ropes and cages. It was enough to depress and weigh down on a lesser man, especially should he be a mage. To Torin however, he wasn't in the least bit unsettled. He had come here with Nadia about four months ago now and they had made a proper home of it despite the oppressing imagery that constantly surrounded them. Torin had come to learn you did not make frequent appearances at the gallows and that climbing the walls and hanging out on rooftops was best done in Lowtown rather than here.

So why visit Hightown? Oh spirits, the people were sometimes far more entertaining here than anywhere else. The things they would trade for their metal pieces; stinky perfumes, ornate and, in his opinion most of the time , horrible looking baubles. Meats they could probably catch just outside these walls if only the applied themselves. The only thing that really snared his immediate attention was when someone walked the streets in a proper dress. Frills and layers were fascinating and many of what he saw paraded around in these parts was far fancier than anything he had ever laid eyes upon before.

If only Nadia had managed to secure a stand in these parts, Torin could have had his fill people watching every day while he sold his own wares. Alas, his friend had only managed a general goods shop down in Lowtown. Novel Knicknacks. Nadia's Novel Knicknacks if she was feeling extra boastful that day. Truthfully Torin only really identified it by the sign hanging above the door; a dull maroon paint covering it that was already peeling and an ornate looking letter 'N' in black. The same sign hung on the shop back in Redcliffe and it was a familiar touch to this otherwise foreign place.

But that was neither here nor there, and the chasind had grown otherwise bored of just simply sitting around, wasting the entire afternoon. Rising to his feet, much to the relief of the vendor closest to him, Torin stretched out all six feet, two inches of himself, his gaze lazily moving about the small crowd of browsing pedestrians. It seemed he was out of luck today – no one milling about really grabbed at his attention. At least not anyone his age or older.

Boredom was plastered over the faces of two children while their guardian (he assumed their mother?) perused the goods at a stand selling various robes and other clothes. Little shoes scuffed at the stone squares patterning the marketplace, large eyes casting hopeful glances up toward the woman trying to shop in hopes that she might be done. The idea that she might not want her children to play with a complete stranger never even crossed Torin's mind, his hand immediately reaching down to pluck at a thick blade of grass coming in from a crack in the tile. He made quick work of pressing the weed between both thumbs, bringing it to his lips so he could then blow, creating a high pitched noise that was between a whistle and an animal dying.

As per his plan, both children – and a few adults – turned to look his way, his expression breaking into a grin and a light laugh.

“You want to try?” he offered the two wide eyed kidspawn, their own faces lighting up upon realizing they too could create the obnoxious noise. Had he noticed the horrified look on the mother's face, perhaps he would have stopped, though in his defense, she didn't usher them away from him either.

“Hold it like this,” he gestured, pulling another blade tight between his hands, showing them how it would center between the hole left by their knuckles. He lifted it to his mouth once more, an awkward honk sounding that resulted in a fit of giggles from the two kids. With a little bit of practice themselves, it wasn't long before the Hightown market was filled with the torturous symphony of grass being played by amateurs.
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