Wings of Destruction and Duty

26.2 || Orion

Orion was thankful for the relentless bustle of the afternoon market. The rush of bellowing vendors, shrieking children, and haggling customers welcomed him as he wove between the patrons to keep up with Laurel. Every now and then, the woman would turn to beckon him onwards, but for the most part, she kept moving deeper into the whirl of scattered carts and colourful wares.

He swerved to avoid a particularly active child, smiling as her mother offered him an apologetic smile, and quickly found himself drawn to a pretty stall adorned with yellow and blue flowers. Orion shifted closer, eyeing the last basket of red berries. Beside it, a green, melon-like fruit swayed carefully on its perch, and he was struck by the urge to go over and examine it. Reuna had once enjoyed making jam, and even now he could vividly remember her gentle chastisement when he'd stuck his fingers in the jars to taste the sweet confections.

"You seem rather curious, child; perhaps I can help you."

Orion jumped and spun around to see a stout, grey-eyed woman standing behind him, and before he could say a word, she strode over and held the melon up before his eyes.

"Six copper coins is all I ask for, and I can assure you that my family's produce is like no other."

Orion blanched. "I'm afraid there may have been a misunderstanding; you see, I'm in no position to purchase anything right now. The fruit caught my eye, and—"

"Misunderstanding? No, you looked hungry." The woman chuckled, then paused and followed his gaze. "Ah, perhaps it's not the melon that interests you. "I can sell you the berries for four coppers."

"I really wish I could, but you see..." Orion trailed off, sheepishly scratching his head, before looking around for Laurel. Then cold gripped him when he realised he could not make out her blond head anywhere. He spun around, his breath catching in his throat as he strained to see over the heads of others. All around him, heads of brown, black, and floral headbands moved smoothly like a river, but none matched the elf he was seeking.

He blinked, focusing on the sinking thud of his stomach. Shouting might be effective, but over the rumble of voices, he would have to strain to be heard. His hands balled up, fingers digging into his palms, as he contemplated Romril's many warnings not to attract attention to himself. If worst comes to worst, Orion could return to the inn and face a bitter scolding.

Orion turned, offering the old woman a short apology, and hoped that she would accept that his so-called mother had not trusted him with the money to purchase anything. To his relief, she only chortled and patted him on the arm.

"In that case, you tell your mother that her son already has more sense than mine. I could barely trust them to leave home on their own!"

Orion offered a half-hearted laugh before waving goodbye and plunging into the depths of the crowd. Buildings loomed before him as he weaved his way back towards the edges of the town square, but before he could set foot on the street leading back to the Drunken Dragon, he froze and looked back.

It struck him. Laurel had no idea where he was, and even if he were to return to the inn, there was no telling how long she might look for him. A dull pinch crawled through his mind, and Niamh's sharp voice rushed in to fill the void.

"Time cannot be regained, and because of your actions, this man has lost the good part of his evening waiting for a selfish little boy who has no consideration for others."

Orion flushed at the memory. He had tried to tell his friend's father that he had been held up helping the miller's wife, and yet, somehow, the message had never been delivered. Thomas had refused to look him in the eye. And when he confronted the boy later on, Thomas claimed that he'd forgotten to tell his father that Orion would need help returning home an entire hour later than had been previously agreed upon. That was the last time Niamh let him out of her sight.