All my flowers
grew back as thorns

---

The late afternoon sun glared down at Solterra’s main City, intent upon burning the very earth the Day Court’s inhabitants walked upon. Thankfully as afternoon drifted ever closer to evening its gaze was not as scorching as it had been earlier that day, and mercifully the winter’s chill abated the unbearable heat of summer.

Now that temperature was cooler the Market was loud and bustling. An orchestra of voices permeated the air, cleaving any hope of quiet in two. The chitter-chatter of denizens wandering the streets was punctuated periodically by the call of stores owners. Shouts of; “two apples for one signos,”; and “the finest silk in all of Novus, 50 signos, the finest silk,” could be heard upon the slight breeze, bellowed by grinning merchants intent upon reeling buyers in.

It was not unusual for Na’eemah to find her afternoons spent in Solterra’s market, even amid the busy crowds and dizzying heat. Whilst usually the femme was in town to meet with a contact or, beneath the cover of darkness, fulfil and contract, today the dun mare was there simply to enjoy what the market had to offer.

Where usually she found pushing through the meandering crowds frustrating and loathed the assault of sounds and smells upon her senses, it was for more enjoyable to join in. Naya was content to wander with the crowds, dragged by the tide of moving horses, and though she had no one with whom to converse she enjoyed eaves dropping on the loud conversations between others.

The air was thick with the pungent aroma of spices and herbs, a feast for the nares that reminded the beauty that she had yet to eat that day as her stomach rumbled quietly. But it was to the silk stands that she was drawn, by the myriad of beautiful, brilliant colours and the intricate designs that made her own scarf appear dull by comparison.  Spying his chance, the vendor launched into his spiel about how it was the highest quality silk in all of Novus, a fine blend of colours and threads that were unique to his stall. Smiling and nodding along with only half of her attention, Naya admires a particularly beautiful blue silk with faint silver embroidery, rather tempted to purchase it if only it didn’t bare resemblance to the night court’s namesake. Instead she smiles once again at the salesman, complimenting his wares before slipping once more into the crowd, allowing her hooves to carry her forth.