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| Gold and Silver | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Mar 16 2010, 10:49 PM (224 Views) | |
| Garan | Mar 16 2010, 10:49 PM Post #1 |
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"I'm not the person you should be talking to about this." A callused hand pushes the ring back across the table. "Please. I've got nothing left. You've got to take it." A smaller, shaking hand holds it out pleadingly. "Look, lady, I know less than nothing about jewelry. I couldn't hope to give you a fair price." Garan surreptitiously rubbed his leg; the scar from his war wound had started to ache in the cold. "It's a large bazaar, I can't believe there's no one else here that could help you." "There isn't. I've checked everywhere. Besides, it's only glass," she lied, knowing it was her only way to get rid of the cursed thing. He hesitated, then took the gaudy gem from her hand. "It don't look like glass," he muttered to himself as he eyed the deep blood-red of the stone. He looked at the desperate woman's face and sighed. "All right. I'll give you twelve silver for it. And that's much more than I'd usually give for a fake stone." If she hadn't been worried about arousing suspicions, she would have kissed the merchant and ran out of town without taking the money. As it stood, she was obliged to make at least a presumptory effort at haggling. "Forty. The ring bit itself's gold, right enough." They threw a few figures back and forth, but Garan's heart wasn't in the bargaining. "Twenty and a smile from a pretty young lady. Take it or leave it." She took it. She handed him the damned (and stolen, and evil, and possibly possessed, but she really didn't care anymore) thing, and tried not to burst into song as she walked away. |
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| Garan | Mar 16 2010, 11:14 PM Post #2 |
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Garan stretched and looked around at greyness and fellow bazaar stalls. Either night was coming or a storm was coming faster. Probably both, considering the weather lately. Either way, the last of the customers were drifting away and the sellers were packing up, if they hadn't already left. The wind fought bad-temperedly with him as he struggled to take down the meager awning and wrap up his treasures. The faster he finished here, the faster he could get back to the hovel of a boarding house he called home. Well, actually, he didn't usually call it home. Hell, mostly. When he was feeling especially bitter, it became Mrs. MacGregor's Home for Screaming Families. It was kind of funny how suddenly fighting in the battle to save the town mattered so much less than having proper papers to leave the town or enter another one. Especially since these papers could only be gotten from certain officials who weren't completely honest to begin with and finished off by being pissed at Garan over a certain darts match in a certain pub after a certain amount of drinks. He stuffed the last of his earnings away, shouldered his burdens, and immediately walked into the table that served as his storefront. He swore and grabbed everything that had fallen. He noticed a glint in the mud. He realized it was the ring that he had just bought. Somehow it had fallen off the table in his hurry to leave and he had forgotten about it. He picked it up, put it in his pocket, and walked away. |
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