Shopping Galore [morningtide Fryday, 30th of Yulember]

Market Square forms the centre, with main street stretching out on either side, from the Harbour to the City Gates area. On the Northside the middle class housing, with the poorest near the harbour, while to the south the rich residents have found more space and fresh air, though not to close to where the cattle is herded. Latern poles decorated with green wreaths provide a bit of cheer in the early hours of eveningtide.

The central focus of the square is the fountain, waterworks engineering being a particular mark of the Duke Von zu Dort-Billigh. Due to the frost it is now boarded up with wooden panelling, and merrily decorated evergreen wreaths. A nearby statue of the old Baron of Shorewich, standing proudly in his kilt, is covered with snow, with icicles hanging from his overlarge nose.

The permanent market is always busy during the day, even during Yuletide. The wooden stalls sell spices, soaps, dried herbs, mulled wine, roast nuts and all the fresh produce one could hope for in a location somewhat of the beaten track. The regular presence of merchants from World's Mouth have led to the presence of coffee.

The weather was so cold that breath caused an exhale of mist. It did not seem to bother the good citizens of Port Town. The merry season was nearly upon them, already announced by the ever green wreaths visible everywhere. Every matron tried to get into the last minute shopping that was going on, and there was a big press around the butcher and the baker to get the most fresh produce. Others simply relaxed with mulled wine and roast nuts, laughing and enjoying watching others moving about in the crowd.

Tristam always felt at home in any market square. Though small by most standards there were still little delights and wonders to be found. His new winter coat was a welcome find as protection against the biting wind. The little stand with the bone and ivory carvings were already on his list of things to obtain for his trade in curiosities.

Right now he was enjoying his latest find, a hot mug of spiced coffee and a honey pastry fresh from a baker's oven. He found himself a spot against a shop wall somewhat sheltered from the wind and watched the people of Port Town go about their business.

Morning Tide

It was not World's Mouth with its sophistication. Even in winter, the markets would have been overspilling with fresh produce, exotic spice and other spoils of war back home. Instead the market of Port Town was simple country fare, and it that lay its charm. The honey spilled over his tongue, and the coffee, liberally enhanced by alcohol warmed his blood, even this early in the day. It seemed fitting to the season, so close to Yuletide.

The local populace seemed to enjoy visiting the market as an outing, laughing merrily and greeting their neighbours. Tristam noticed some Condotierrie moving amoung the peasants, as well as general Citadelian folks and many, many locals. If anything Port Town was lively, a new thriving trading place, which it had not been even a yahren ago.

OOC: Welcome home, my old friend

ooc: I hope this is open?

The Market Square was busy and bustling, just how Ellaine had left it.  A smile formed on her face as she circled around the outside, making her way to the pastry stalls.  Her father allowed her the luxury of a few days for her own leisure.

It was not too common that Ellaine would be presented with any ample time of her own.  Most of her time was consumed by projects or commitments.  The girl understood completing her work to fulfill filial duties but she was not without her own stress to relieve.

A sweet smile transformed into a toothy grin as she received her cinnamon pastry from the baker.  One bite shot her mood up and into the sky.  For yahren she had been a fan of this specific pastry and it was still the exact same.  The texture, the warmth, it was all completely satisfying.

OOC: Happy to be back o Dragoness. As for you Ellaine, its a free market. Welcome aboard.

From his vantage point, Tristam watched Ellaine's face light up as she bit into her pastry and he could not help himself from chuckling. Not wishing for her to take offense, Tristam took a few steps forward and doffed his hat. "Pardone, miss, but I don't see many looks of pure joy these days. I do hope my laughter did not offend you. I assure you it was well meant."

OOC: open to all. Feel free to post a bit amongst yourself without waiting for me. I will monitor and make some observations along the way.

The charming well clad Condotierri were making outragous compliments to the local girls, showing magnificent leg as they swept off their hats with the big fluffy fathers and whispering "Bella" over their knuckles as they airkissed their hands. They stood out as big exotic birds in the middle of the more grounded, practical market, a holiday spectacle.

"Roasted chestnuts," called a merchant, "Get them while they are hot."

Several young lads warmed their hands around an iron pot with a fire built within it, watching the visitors, and sometimes elbowing each other.

Ellaine snapped to her senses when she heard a gentleman let out a hearty chuckle. The sweet taste of the pastry subsided in her mind as she turned towards Tristam and formed the corner of her lips in a weak smile filled with embarrassment. Her plans in the Market had no guidelines of what she would say if she encountered any strangers. Quickly she cleared her throat.

"That obvious, was it?" Ellaine said while wrapping the pastry back in the wax paper. "This particular pastry has been a favorite o' mine for as many yahren as I can remember."

It was another dreary day for Bryome in this distant land he exiled himself to. Shorewich for him, unlike Kings Court or Citadel, although busy on that certain day, was too quiet and too provincial. Nothing new ever happened, every day was the same thing as yesterday, waking up to say...

"Good day," He muttered a greeting to the people he met (never really seeing them) as he walked in the safety of the crowd, clad in his well-tailored winter attire, busy re-reading more than a dozen times the same and only literature he was able to salvage when he fled Kings Court.

"Boungiorno." He absent-mindedly muttered once again to a faceless person, taking a glance up to view his surrounding, knowing that there was nothing new.

There's the bakery again, the same ol' bread and roll it sell. He thought dejectedly, looking with resignation at the press of crowd buying from the bread shop. Every morning it's the same, since the morning that I came, to this provincial town. He turned back and took a quick look at his nameless tailor shop. Gloomy. Unadorned. Save only for one attire as its window display.

Sighing deeply, he went back to his reading and entered the safety of the crowd once again.

"Good day," He muttered his greeting, not really feeling the yuletide season, alone in the crowd in this distant land.

"Boungiorno."

As was his usual custom, Barr took his morningtide break in Market Square.  He liked to see the throng of townsfolk going about their business and paid casual attention to the fortunes of the regulars who manned and called upon the various stalls.  Oftentimes in the warmer months his break would extend comfortably long as he found a chair and enjoyed a coffee or glass of wine as the day passed by; sometimes he would even conduct business meetings here if it was sunny and mild.  The sea might be more in his past than not, but the breeze and faint smell of salt that reached the square was still enough to evoke pleasant memories in the captain.

Yuletide was not the time for outdoor meetings but the decoration and undercurrent of excitement that filled the market this time of year was still worth experiencing.  And so here he was, wrapped up in his woollen greatcoat against the chill and reluctantly relying on his cane to steady his stiff stride through the frozen streets as he made his way for some mulled wine.  With the blessedly warm cup in his hands Barr turned and surveyed the crowds for a moment, letting the heat soak in as he spied local and foreigner alike moving to and fro.  The gaudy plumes of the condotierre caught his eye, as did a number of other visitors whose faces were unknown to him.  After a comforting sip of the wine, he circled the square to find his guilty pleasure, a cranberry scone.  They made some of the best here in Port Town, and being a self-declared connoisseur of pastries Barr knew what he was talking about.

"The regular?" asked the baker with a smile, to which Barr grinned and nodded.  A creature of habit perhaps, but a delicious habit nonetheless.  A few small coins were handed over and he took a satisfying bite, closing his eyes as he enjoyed the tartness of the dried cranberry.  "Excellent as always!" he complimented, before making way for the patrons lined up behind him.  Balancing his cane, wine and scone somewhat precariously, he shuffled a few steps before temporarily losing his grip on the scone.  It and the wine very nearly tumbled from his grasp as he sought to recover but in the end good sense prevailed and both food and drink were saved, at the expense of his cursed cane.  An exchange Barr was happy to make.

It wasn't his most graceful performance though and when he realized he'd dropped his cane right beside a couple engaged in conversation his cheeks burnished crimson beneath his beard, more than the chill breeze could take blame.  With purchases secure again he bent and retrieved the walking stick and made his apologies to the pair, one of whom he recognized as a local.

"Blasted knee!  Miss McCrae, I beg your forgiveness. Too many items, not enough hands," he said contritely to the young woman, a small burr of the sea still in his tone even after four yahren ashore.  "Your pardon as well, sir," he added for Tristam's benefit, not recognizing the man but meaning no offence on any account.  "The market's a fine place to visit, not withstanding my clumsiness."

OOC: please continue and don't wait for me. I will have to add something soon but no need at this earlier stage

Plop! A startled Ellaine shifted and turned to see Mr. Villiers was out and about as he always was.

"You are quite alright, Mr. Villiers," Ellaine said. "No harm done."

Ellaine took more bites out of her pastry, and turned back to Tristam. Over his shoulder however she could not help but notice Bryome, the owner of the small tailor shop. He seemed more detached from the world as usual. Shorewich was gaining more and more people settling from different lands, Ellaine wondered if they had any troubles adapting.