Post by Miriel on Jan 15, 2013 12:42:09 GMT -5
I can not do this, Miriel thought stubbornly to herself. I must not leave the house. Someone will notice.
But what was she to do? Nobody could know of her intent. The young children were too little to leave the home on an errand for her. Grandfather did not see well enough to go out on his own any more either. Mother and Grandmother had left on an urgent errand. And Faeldor was not home, either. No, Faeldor would not have heeded her request anyway. Faeldor was hardly speaking to her these days. Gilwen was there, watching the children at her request, and too unwell to leave the house.
Miriel had felt ill that morning and retreated to her room to rest. After an hour or two of laying upon the bed and finding no comfort, she moved to sit in the window ledge and look out. She had not been outside on the city streets for at least three months now. The furthest she had gone from home was the garden behind her house. It was the time of year when weather was chill and rainy though, winter. So she had hardly a time under the sun anywhere.
Today though, the wind did not seem fierce. She studied the cloaks of people walking past. They were not rippling in the wind, nor was hair blowing. She had written a letter, and she needed to post it today. She knew there would be a messenger run... there always was one midweek, and there would not be another for a few more days. Her letter needed to depart now. It was a letter to her sister in Belfalas, a plea that her sister would return home, and soon. The entire family wanted it... but her brother wished not to allow it.
"I shall just go," Miriel muttered out loud to herself. Perhaps her cloak would conceal her condition. She sighed, looking in the mirror for a moment as she threw an extra shawl over herself, as well as the cloak. Her stomach still showed. There was no hiding it these days. The baby moved within her, as if in delight for it's mother to venture outside and breath fresh air.
Miriel snuck down the stairs. She heard voices in the kitchen, but decided to pay no heed as she left through the front door, making her way down the street toward the fifth tier market, where the messangers usually stopped to pick up notices before departure. It was either to drop it here, or drop the letter at the court hall on the seventh tier, though Miriel did not wish her former employers or the women she had worked amongst to see her. The fifth tier it was.
The market was brimming with people this time of day, as many were making their way after they finished their daily labor. People stood in groups talking, and others just browsed through produce or vegetables. The tavern on the far end was the drop for letters going south. Miriel sighed, pushing through the commotion and hoping not to draw attention to herself.
But what was she to do? Nobody could know of her intent. The young children were too little to leave the home on an errand for her. Grandfather did not see well enough to go out on his own any more either. Mother and Grandmother had left on an urgent errand. And Faeldor was not home, either. No, Faeldor would not have heeded her request anyway. Faeldor was hardly speaking to her these days. Gilwen was there, watching the children at her request, and too unwell to leave the house.
Miriel had felt ill that morning and retreated to her room to rest. After an hour or two of laying upon the bed and finding no comfort, she moved to sit in the window ledge and look out. She had not been outside on the city streets for at least three months now. The furthest she had gone from home was the garden behind her house. It was the time of year when weather was chill and rainy though, winter. So she had hardly a time under the sun anywhere.
Today though, the wind did not seem fierce. She studied the cloaks of people walking past. They were not rippling in the wind, nor was hair blowing. She had written a letter, and she needed to post it today. She knew there would be a messenger run... there always was one midweek, and there would not be another for a few more days. Her letter needed to depart now. It was a letter to her sister in Belfalas, a plea that her sister would return home, and soon. The entire family wanted it... but her brother wished not to allow it.
"I shall just go," Miriel muttered out loud to herself. Perhaps her cloak would conceal her condition. She sighed, looking in the mirror for a moment as she threw an extra shawl over herself, as well as the cloak. Her stomach still showed. There was no hiding it these days. The baby moved within her, as if in delight for it's mother to venture outside and breath fresh air.
Miriel snuck down the stairs. She heard voices in the kitchen, but decided to pay no heed as she left through the front door, making her way down the street toward the fifth tier market, where the messangers usually stopped to pick up notices before departure. It was either to drop it here, or drop the letter at the court hall on the seventh tier, though Miriel did not wish her former employers or the women she had worked amongst to see her. The fifth tier it was.
The market was brimming with people this time of day, as many were making their way after they finished their daily labor. People stood in groups talking, and others just browsed through produce or vegetables. The tavern on the far end was the drop for letters going south. Miriel sighed, pushing through the commotion and hoping not to draw attention to herself.