chapter seven

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CHAPTER SEVEN

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CHAPTER SEVEN


The breeze was cashmere on her fissured skin, silky yet irritating all at once, and her hair blew in numerous directions as she pushed through the endless crowd of townfolks in the market square. Stands were scattered everywhere, covered with dyed plastic of carmine, azure, golden, and many more, protecting the locals from the scorching sun of late July.

The heat made the back of her tunic stick to her skin, and Varya pulled at the material to air herself, ignoring the odd looks the people around her were hurling. A trail of transpiration dribbled down the sides of her temples, and she felt as if the rising temperature was boiling her alive.

The roads were covered in grime and dust—it stuck to her soles that were exposed by cheap sandals, and the houses around her were made of red bricks, with white stripes framing the windows, and a few even had pots of roses hanging outside. The perfume of flowers transversed the market, and bees flew around with a resounding buzz, making young girls squeal with squeamishness.

Women dressed in garments of their time walked around on their husbands' arms, examining the trinkets exposed on white tables, and haggling with the sellers for a better price. Some were coquettes, with neatly painted nails and rich coiffeurs; others wore skirts that had loose threads hanging on the margins, and their hair was merely pulled in a bun.

Varya trailed her eyes over the scenery until she spotted locks of the sun, and she walked towards Elladora with quick steps, pushing through the vibrating crowd and trying to tune out the communal chatter. The other witch was sitting in front of a stand, arguing with the seller over the Jobberknoll feathers.

"I do not want the goddamned bird!" she screeched, throwing her arms up in frustration and earning a few glances from passing customers, "Only two feathers."

"Cannot do that, ma'am," the clerk said, his mustache moving capriciously as he spoke, "I 'ave the bird, you pay the full price, and it is yours."

"What on Earth would I do with a bloody bird?" Elladora's accent resonated with poshness, accentuating her vowels in irritation. Her red hair had been clasped behind her ears, then braided down her back until it reached the middle of her abdomen. She was dressed in a loose, violet dress, puffed around the arms and tight around the waist, only to flow downwards before it reached her knees.

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