Cut Scene: 10th of Mirtul, 1491 The Girls Shopping Trip, Riverport
Her eyes crinkled up with silent laughter, Atalaya leaned into Vaz and whispered, “On with you now. We girls have some things to do in order to be ready for your party tonight.” Vaz looked back at her, clearly not happy with the thought of letting her go off without him so soon after her return from Harpshield. He tightened his hold around her waist and responded with a low growl. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
“Yes you are,” she replied, giving him the briefest of kisses on his check. “I’ve things to do to get Cirilli and myself ready for tonight. How can we surprise you, if you are tagging along?” Looking into his face she added, “Truly, we will be fine. It’s just a couple of hours and I think that you will like the final result. If we can find the right store, that is.”
Vaz looks at her, clearly frustrated. “But you just got back.”
“Actually, it’s been hours,” Atalaya responded with a smile, “and most of that spent at your side.” Removing his arm from around her waist and bringing his hand to her cheek, then kissing his palm she said again, “Off with you now. I’ll see you at the ship or the Green Goblin in a few hours.” Then pulling away, she reached for Cirilli’s shoulder and gave her a gentle nudge forward.
Vaz stared after her, hearing her tell Cirilli that the time for gawking was over, there was shopping to be done. He jumped slightly as Seraphina prodded him on his backside. “Give her some space, lad. You will see her soon enough. A lass likes a few secrets. There’s naught here to harm her on a shopping trip.” Seraphina reached up and took his arm, “and you can just take a few minutes and escort me to The Lady Luck Tavern before you head back to your vardo, or wherever else you choose to go. I’m sure Kelson can use some help with the refugees’ fighter practice.” As Atalaya, Cirilli and Joan reached the corner and vanished from his sight, Vaz snapped his eyes onto his longtime friend and smiled down at her.
“I’m sure you’re right. There is plenty to do in the refugee camp. But…” he shook his head slowly. “Alright, let’s get you to the Lucky Lady.”
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“I knew you liked him,” Cirilli said smiling. But why are we going shopping? I thought you would want to be with Boz, right?”
Atalaya smiled down at her young friend. “First of all, we need some dresses for tonight, and we don’t need Vaz along while we pick out something to wear.”
“Dresses???” Cirilli scowled at Atalaya. “What do we need dresses for? We are adventurers. Dresses are for townsfolk,” she added, thinking about her time before coming to live with Atalaya and her friends. “I don’t wear dresses anymore.”
“Dresses, skirts, whatever,” laughed Atalaya as they walked towards the northern part of town, looking for the town shops. “We are celebrating tonight, and who wants to celebrate in worn, dirty travel clothes. I know we haven’t had much of a chance to just have fun since you came to live with us, but, a change of pace is good for the soul.” Looking over at Joan she added, “Just ask Joan. We may be rangers, but that doesn’t mean we never dress up.”
Cirilli’s head turned to gaze up at Joan. “Really? You are going to wear a dress too?”
Joan laughed. “Did you think that all I ever wore were britches and tunics, girl? Of course there is more to life than goblins and monsters. One must make the time for fun or life becomes too serious.”
“Yes,” added Atalaya, “life should be joyous too. Tonight is a time to laugh and sing and celebrate life. And a time to surprise Vaz. We don’t want him thinking that I’m just ‘one of the boys’ do we?” She winked at Joan. “I believe that he hasn’t seen me dress up before. I’m hoping that he will like the change.”
Joan began chuckling. “Oh, I’m sure he will like it. Yes, he’s definitely going to like it. If he survives the hours until we get you back within his sight. I’m not sure you really appreciate what a wreck he has been since we parted ways a week ago. He was really worried about all of you. But most of all about you. He’s been muttering for the past week about never letting you go off like that again.”
“I can’t say that I was happy about it either, but we both survived it. And we both seem to have kept our promises not to get killed during the separation. So… look, that looks like a tailor shop. Let’s try in there.” Atalaya said, breaking off her thoughts about Vaz.
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After a fun hour of looking through the ready-made clothing in The Decorated Man’s shop Joan, Atalaya and Cirilli each left carrying a bag containing a new outfit. “That was actually fun,” conceded Cirilli. “Not at all like before. Do you really think Boz will like seeing me wear a dress? He won’t think that I’m a ‘silly girl’?” she asked Joan.
Atalaya frowned as she heard Cirilli’s question. “You, dear child, are not and have never been a ‘silly girl’. And Vaz would never call you that. Not the way you just said and meant it anyway. He might tease you sometimes, but he would not ever say that to make you feel bad.”
Joan, stopping in the middle of the street, knelt down so that her eyes met Cirilli’s. “We love you child. All of us. Boz is going to love seeing you in your new finery. Make no mistake about it, the two of you are going to be a complete surprise. One that I’m sure he is going to enjoy very much.” Then she added, “Me, he’s seen dressed up before. Not very often, but when the occasion warranted it. So I’m not going to be so much of a surprise to him. But you two… I think we are going to have one very happy man tonight.”
“Before we head back to the ship, I need to make a quick stop at the temple, Joan. Is that alright? Or would you rather head back and we’ll see you at the Green Goblin?”
“The temple? What do we need to do there?” questioned Cirilli.
“I’m just dropping something off, it won’t take but a moment and then we can head back to the ship to get ready.”
“We’ve plenty of time,” added Joan, “I’ll stick with you two.” “I don’t want to have to tell Boz that I left them alone in the ‘big bad town’ all by themselves,” she added in her head. “Nope, I definitely don’t want to do that.”
As they headed towards the Harvest Home Temple, Cirilli, chewing on her lip, looked up at Atalaya and finally asked, “Why do you always call Boz “Vaz”? I think that I have only heard you call him Boz one or two times since I met all of you.”
Looking off into the distance Atalaya seemed deep in thought and Cirilli had just about decided that she was not going to answer her, but after a couple moments Atalaya began speaking. “I think it is because of my time living with the elves. I grew up with both cultures you know, human and elven. I think it is a difference in the way different cultures think about themselves. It seems to me that among the humans, the family or clan that you come from can become more important than each individual. You are always a part of the group you come from. So Boswell becomes the important part of the name, especially with the men. The wood elves are more individualistic. Children are born much less often and are cherished for who they are and the new life they bring to the village. I guess that the difference imprinted on me early in my life. I do choose to use given names or nicknames much more frequently than surnames, especially for those I’m close to. So when I shorten Vasilya’s name, I use his given name to make my nickname and it becomes Vaz rather than Boz which is based on his surname. It just happened. It’s how I’ve always named him to myself.”
As they entered the temple, Atalaya looked for the offering bowl. Then, reaching into her pouch she pulled out a smaller sack that was tied shut. The soft sound of coins rubbing against each other and of paper crinkling as she placed the sack into the offering bowl could barely be heard. Giving a silent nod to the statue of Chauntea, she turned and headed back to her friends waiting outside for her. Giving them a smile, she started the trek back to the shipyards and Hond Ebrath.
“Please Joan, come with us to the ship. You can get ready with us,” Cirilli begged. “You know you want to,” she wheedled. “Please.”
Joan laughed and grabbed her hand. “For you, I will my young friend.” Turning away from the street to the southern gate, Joan walked hand in hand with Cirilli toward the western gate. Atalaya, walking a few steps behind them, smiled as she watched them talking excitedly about how they were going to fix Cirilli’s hair once they reached the ship. “I wonder what I should do about my hair,” Atalaya thought as she followed behind the other two. “I could just wear it like I have been doing lately. That keeps it out of my eyes… it’s easy to do… but I’m going to be wearing a dress, maybe I should do something else? …” “Hey, Macterah is right, there really are a lot of dogs running around town today. I wonder why.’’ … “Mom used to braid the sides and then pull them back, letting the rest fall free. Maybe I could do that.”
Atalaya startled back to awareness of when and where she was as Cirilli gave an exasperated tug on her arm. “Earth to Atalaya, are you going to let us fix your hair?”
Joan gave Atalaya a knowing look. “I’d say that she just lost her chance to decide that. We are going to have fun Cirilli. Lots of fun.” Joan and Cirilli exchanged smirks as they continued walking. With a start, Atalaya realized that they had reached the river. “Giving herself a mental shakedown, she corralled her thoughts and started paying appropriate attention to where she was and what was going on around her. “I’m not going to tell anyone that I was that preoccupied. I know better than to be walking around without paying attention. Both my father and my mother would have something to say about that.”
“So just what have you two planned to do to my hair? And why should I be letting you anywhere near it?” Atalaya finally asked Cirilli. “I’m not sure that I like the looks you and Joan are throwing my way.” Cirilli just smiled saucily and quipped, “No, you had your chance. It’s too late now. You just leave everything to Joan and me. We’ve got it all planned out.”
“Look Joan, what about using some of those flowers? They are pretty and would look so nice with her new dress. Do you think it’s alright to cut some?”
“I don’t see why not. No one seems to have claimed the land along the river. Give me your bag and you can go gather a few. Get enough for your hair too.” Cirilli scampered down the bank and started walking along the riverside, using her belt knife to cut a few flowers here and a couple more a little ways further up the stream. After about 10 minutes of scrambling back and forth along the riverbed she had a large handful of wildflowers and some frilly ferns that felt soft to the touch and others that contained many varied colors of green that had caught her fancy. Joan helped her back onto the path and looked over what she had chosen. “Good job, little one. These should be perfect.”
Atalaya, looking over the handfuls of flowers that Joan was carefully placing in her bag, shook her head. “You don’t really think that you are putting those into my hair, do you? Either of you,” she added glaring at both her companions. All the answer she got was laughter and a slap on her back from Joan. “Hey, we gave you a chance to say no, but you didn’t say a thing. So now we get to do whatever we want.” “Right Cirilli?” Cirilli’s eyes sparkled with anticipation as she eagerly nodded.
Grabbing Atalaya’s hand, Cirilli grinned and pulled her down so that she could reach her ear, and whispered, “You are going to look great. Just wait and see.”
“Come on, we gotta get back to the ship. We need to get ready!” she added.
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“Here, I’ll fix your dresses’ lacings for you. First the blue underdress,” Cirilli said with a mischievous smile on her face. She swiftly tied it and then knotted the bow again and again. Running her hand over the soft fabric of the overdress, she held it out to Atalaya. “This is so beautiful. I have never seen anything like it. Boz is going to love seeing you in this.” Tracing her fingers along the ribbons sewn around the neckline she added, “Just like an elven princess in the stories.” Behind Atalaya’s back she winked at Joan. “Yes, you are going to look just like an elven princess.” She quickly laced up the back of the overdress, adding multiple knots along the way. And again, knotting the laces tightly before she tied them. “Someday, I’m going to have a dress like this too.” Running her fingers along the fabric of the sleeve and then watching it fall down to reveal the sleeve of the underdress Cirilli smiled wistfully. Then rummaging through their bags she held up the woven belt that was the last part of the outfit. “Here, you can put this on yourself while I find your brushes and combs. Now it’s time to fix your hair.”
Shaking her head in amusement, Atalaya accepted the belt from her young ward and fastened it around her waist. “I’m fully capable of braiding back my hair,” she offered, not really liking the giggling and anticipation she noted in Cirilli’s face. And if you had let me buy that pretty skirt and tunic, you wouldn’t have had to help me get dressed. Now I’m going to have to wake you up to get undressed when I get back to the ship.”
Both Cirilli and Joan broke out in actual laughter then. “I’ll make you a deal,” said Joan. “I’ll spend the night on the ship. If you make it back before Cirilli is awake, I’ll get you out of the dresses.” Turning her back to Atalaya as she reached for the brush Cirilli was holding out to her she muttered to herself, “But there is no way that Vasilya is going to let you leave his vardo any time before noon when we get done with you. Happy Birthday Boz.”
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Atalaya stared at herself in the hand mirror held up by Cirilli. Snatching it from her hand she looked again, trying to see what had been done to the back of her head. “Who was that looking back at her?” She didn’t recognize the face that looked back at her. Her hair had been arranged into an intricate concoction of braids and flowers. Atalaya was surprised by how skillfully Joan had weaved her hair to comply with Cirilli’s fanciful requests. Her hair now sported a braided crown with small asters, lily of the valley, bluebells, and the ferns carefully placed within the braid. Cirilli had then instructed Joan to braid a section of her hair down the back. Into this was inserted thin rope-like braids from around the edges of her face, forming gentle loops. The rest was then allowed to flow freely down her back. Into this had been added more flowers. Atalaya had tried repeatedly to rein in her friends, but they had just smiled and patted her hand and told her to “leave everything to us.” Atalaya, shook her head slightly. No falling flowers. No falling braids. It looked like she was going to have to put a smile on her face and endure their foolishness.
Grabbing up the bags off the table she said brightly, “Okay, now it’s your turn, my friends. It’s time to put on your own finery.” She handed Cirilli her own pretty deep red dress which was easily pulled on without the need of laces. “Here, put this on and then I’m going to do your hair.” Joan quickly changed also, and grabbed up a brush before Atalaya could intervene and styled her own hair.
As Cirilli dressed, Atalaya quickly braided a circlet from some of the remaining flowers. It had been many years since she had made one, but her fingers remembered the magic she had often practiced when she was much younger than Cirilli. When Cirilli had pulled the dress on she turned back to Atalaya and eagerly sat down on one of the chairs around the small table in their room. Atalaya ran her fingers through Cirilli’s hair, gently unknotting the short tresses and then brushing them smooth. “It’s not quite long enough to braid my friend, but it will still be stunning when we place these flowers upon your head.” “I’m going to have to keep my sword close beside me, to be sure all the young lads who are out tonight maintain a proper distance and respect. You look so lovely.” Surveying her, Atalaya added, “You should go find Mac and ask her for one of the gold chain necklaces from our adventures. That will perfectly finish off your outfit and you will be ready for tonight.”
“Now, what have you envisioned for Joan’s hair? She shouldn’t be allowed to do her own, should she?” Cirilli giggled and pointed. Joan’s hair was already styled and bedecked with a few of her own flowers.
“Too late. I have it well in hand,” Joan stated.
“Just you wait until next time, you are going first, and I’m doing the braiding,” Atalaya warned. Whispering into Joan’s ear, she added, “And the payback will be oh so sweet.”
Cirilli scampered off to find Mac as Atalaya picked up the stems and fallen leaves and other leftovers off the table.
As Atalaya looked back up she saw Joan placing something into her backpack. “What?” questioned Joan. “You don’t really think you will be getting back here tonight do you? Don’t worry. I’ll look after Cirilli tonight. I think that everything you should need is in here. Let’s join the others. It’s about time to leave and I want to show you off. The boys are going to love this.”
Atalaya sighed, grabbed her bag of holding and placed her sword and sword belt into it and added it to her backpack. Starting to place her bow and quiver over her shoulder, she stared in befuddlement as Joan plucked them out of her hand, reopened the pack and placed them in the bag of holding.
“Not tonight. You won’t need them. And the gods forbid, if we do actually need them, the rest of us will give you the time you need to pull them out. Tonight, you are an elven princess. Cirilli has decreed it.”
Glaring at Joan, Atalaya reached for her cloak and carefully placed it around her shoulders, making sure not to crush the flowers or mess with her hair. Visibly bracing herself, she opened the door of the room and walked out into the common area where she defiantly met the eyes of Mac, Tif and Ivar. “Not one word, not even one,” she challenged menacingly.
Solemnly, Cirilli approached her, took the backpack from her and grabbed onto her hand. “Okay. Let’s go then. Let’s get you to the Green Goblin. I’ll bet you that Boz is already waiting for you there.”
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Meanwhile, in Vasilya’s vardo, Seraphina was pointing her finger at him with a stern expression on her face. “Just what do you think you are doing? You can’t go out looking like that tonight. What are you thinking? You left Atalaya as she was going shopping for something to wear tonight. And you think it is okay to wear that? How many arrows have gone through that particular shirt?” Perusing it carefully she answered herself. “Too many pointy things. You are NOT wearing that.”
“Okay, okay, I’m not wearing this shirt,” he said, reaching into a chest and pulling out another shirt that looked exactly like the one he was wearing. “I don’t think this one has seen any arrows yet.”
Seraphina sighed. “No, not that one either.” “You need something new. Something different.”
“Oh no way. I’m not going shopping. You can just forget that idea right now Seraphina. It’s clean, mostly unwrinkled and currently in my possession, and as per your initial concern, without holes or any mended holes. I’ll wear this.”
Shaking her head, Seraphina reached under her cloak and brought out a fabric wrapped bundle, held together with a big red bow. Smiling, she handed it over to Boz. He looked at her without any sign of understanding in his eyes. “Well open it up boy. Happy Birthday. This is from Sorrow, Joan and myself. Go on, open it up.”
“Should I be scared? You didn’t let Sorrow choose whatever is in there did you?” he asked. Untying the bow he carefully unwrapped the bundle. He whistled softly, muttering something in Gurish under his breath. “I’ll look like a peacock in this.”
“You will look just fine. Dressed up, and ready for your party. I’ll be back in 30 minutes, after I gussy up myself. I expect you to be ready.” Laughing softly to herself, she left the vardo to Vasilya’s muttered, “Yes, mother.”
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In the Green Goblin, Vasilya and Seraphina were seated at the first of the long tables, waiting for their friends to arrive, Vasilya shifting and startling each time the door opened. Taking a big swallow from his tankard, he looked up and watched as Sorrow and his new “friend” Hope entered the pub and walked towards him. Sorrow carrying his instruments and dressed up for a night of partying and performing. He had a huge smile on his face as he approached the table. “Looking good Boz. Looking good.” His eyes met Seraphina’s and he winked.
The door opened again and in walked Macterah with Grenda at her side. She seemed to be laughing and Vasilya looked at her quizzically. And then Atalaya entered behind Macterah .…..
Atalaya stood in the doorway, her head turned to the side as she said something to her young companion. Cirilli laughed and pushed her through the doorway and into the tavern. Vasilya stared at her in wonder, his heart racing so fast that he was sure the heartbeats were visible for all to see. His gaze roamed over her, taking in the flowers and intricate braiding of her hair, the new dress that Joan was exposing to his view as she removed Atalaya’s cloak. He felt paralyzed, totally unable to move as he took in the radical changes to her wardrobe and hairstyle. She met his gaze taking another step towards him, and then a sharp pinch to his arm broke through the myriads of whirling thoughts going round and round in his head. Seraphina’s not too gentle shove got him to his feet. After staring at her for another moment he was suddenly moving swiftly across the space to Atalaya. Taking her hand as she wished him a “Happy Birthday!” he escorted her to the chair that he was saving for her. As he seated her he took in the elaborate hairstyle, wondering whose hand had styled it. And then wondered what it would feel like as he plucked the flowers from it, unbraiding it to let it fall naturally down her back…and through his fingers.
After arranging the skirt of her dress, Atalaya looked into his eyes, the corners of her mouth quirking upwards as she asked, “Well, was the waiting worth it my friend? Or, would you prefer that I return to the ship and put on my regular clothes?”
Finally finding his voice, Vasilya answered as steadily as he could, “No.” His arm moved securely around her waist and after a moment he added, “No, you needn’t trouble yourself with changing a thing.” Reaching up, his finger traced one of the braids from her face to the back of her head as he whispered into her ear, “You look so very beautiful tonight. And I do not plan on letting you out of my sight.”
