Out Of The Sack

Writers: AL, Kaysea
Date Posted: 12th April 2008

Characters: Misara, Raistinor
Description: A newly arrived Vintner surprises Misara and almost let's the feline from the sack...
Location: Vintner Hall
Date: month 9, day 2 of Turn 4

The cold weather had kept people away from the Tavern for over a sevenday, but with the milder weather more had braved the elements to come in and have a drink and chat with friends. Misara had enjoyed the lull in trading, it was provident since Bhervehan had had to leave for a few sevendays to visit family. But now she wished he were back, he always had a way with rowdy customers, and the ease in the elements had brought them out as well.

"What can I get you?" she asked the man standing at the bar, and then felt the colour literally draining from her face when she looked him full in the face. The secret she had been nursing for so long could be revealed if the man before her recognised her face and admitted to such - her safe and secure future at the Vintner Hall for both herself and the children, rested with him.

"Wine, thank you." Raistinor took off his cloak and hung it over his arm. He didn't really look closely at Misara. His eyes focused on something else, a small frown tugging at the corners of his mouth as he seemed to be considering something. He waited patiently until Misara returned with his drink and then paid her for that and another two cups worth. He didn't sit down, but drank the wine there, emptying the cup and then setting it down before her. "Another, please."

Her relief was almost palpable, he didn't appear to recognise her, though he did seem to be a little distracted. "Another one - coming right up." she nodded, and turned to refill the glass.

"Thank you." The second one, Raistinor sipped a little more slowly. He also seemed to come back to his surroundings and his gaze finally rested upon Misara. He took another slow draw from his cup and furrowed his brow. "You look familiar. Have we met?"

"Um, I'm not sure." she couldn't very well lie to his face, but her livelihood depended on how much he remembered. "Um, you may have known my husband, Journeyman Treast?" she answered vaguely.

"Ah yes, I do know him, though we never were well acquainted."
Raistinor smiled and took another sip of his wine, before asking, "I hope he is well?"

"Unfortunately, no." Misara shook her head, her eyes didn't mist up even a little, so nervous was she about the man's recognition. "He was killed a little under a Turn ago."

"Oh...oh, I'm so sorry." Raistinor set down his glass and cleared his throat. "I apologise. I had no idea." He played at his collar and frowned, his brow furrowing as he kept his gaze upon Misara.

"No its alright," she shushed his apology, "I have begun to accept it now, and for the sake of our children, I am learning to move on." She busied herself with cleaning down the bar, and wishing someone else would come up for a refill so she could avoid any more questions, but the locals were all well settled, and the man's eyes - what _was_ his name - were fixed solely on her.

"Still, you look more familiar to me than just the wife of a man I knew in passing. I feel as if I should know you." Raistinor set down his glass and leaned forward on the bar. "What's your name?"

"Um..Mi.."she took a deep breath, and new this was it, she had no choice, she couldn't lie about her name, "Misara. I'm Misara." she said, trying to keep the strain from her voice. _Raistinor_ - _that_
was his name! It came to her in an instant, just as she confessed her own name - she remembered him now, he had been at the ... Northern Hall with her for a turn or more.

"Misara! Ah! I remember you now!" A wide grin spread across Raistinor's face. "One of the most talented women I've ever met! How did you wind up down here?"

"Shhh! Shhh!" she said heatedly, "_Please_, please keep your voice down." she reached across and grabbed at his hand. "You don't know what your words could do to me here." she shook her head, hissing the warning at him. Her eyes scoured the room, but she doubted anyone had heard him, they all seemed immersed in their own conversations.

"What?" Raistinor's brow creased in confusion, but he lowered his voice. "I don't understand."

"I don't - I'm not practising my craft. Not here." she shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's not like the North Raist, it doesn't matter what I did before or even whether I had a talent. It's just _not_ the done thing. Please," once more she glanced around the room, "No one knows, and I'd like to keep it that way." her eyes pleaded with him, if not for understanding, then at least for his silence.

Raistinor straightened up and stared down at Misara. He knew things in the South were a little more conservative, but he had no idea it was so bad that a lady of her talent would be fearful if she were discovered.
The idea was rather depressing. He nodded. "I see. Of course, I will not say anything more. I apologise."

Her relief was palpable when he dropped the subject of her crafting.
She smiled and mouthed the word _thank you_ silently, and deposited another glass of beer on the counter top for him. "Are you here at the Hall permanently, or just passing through?" she asked finally, as she busied herself polishing the drying glasses.

"For now, just passing through." Raistinor smiled, "My brother and his family moved down here last turn and I hadn't seen them since. I was overdue for a visit."

"Oh, I see. Well you'll find things a lot different down here in the South." she said, her words held special meaning as she met his eye again. "Not everything, but certain aspects aren't as they should be."

Raistinor shifted, uncomfortable with what he heard. He had only been in the South for a day and it hadn't occurred to him that of the crafters he had met, none had been women. Looking back, he felt foolish for not noticing sooner. "I see." It wasn't right. "I'm sorry."

"No matter - where needs must." she answered cryptically. "As long as I've a roof above my children's head, I'm satisfied - for now." She walked out from the end of the bar, "One of these days I will return to it, but probably not in the south." It saddened her to say that - the South was home to her children - but two of her children were female and as such couldn't craft outside of the Weyr - that was saddening in itself.

Raistinor nodded slowly. "Well, I must be on my way." The vintner rummaged through the bag that hung on his belt and took out his marks in payment. It really bothered him, the attitude the south had taken. Someone like Misara should be practicing her craft. How much talent were they wasting because of misguided prejudices? "I'll be sure to stop by before I head back North."

"Travel well Raist!" Misara said, taking his marks, and holding his hand briefly.

Last updated on the April 17th 2008

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Out Of The Sack