I thought that I heard you laughing
“... If Marisol knew we were doing this-”
’Marisol doesn’t even know we’re here, Ard. We’ll be fine, okay? Besides, what if we find Moira? Don’t you want to see her again? I know I do. I miss her so much.’
Ard frowned, feeling grumpy and pissed and in danger. Did Marisol know where they were? No. Did Theodosia, for that matter? Definitely not. Did they sneak away from their warm, safe, perfect home in Terrastella to come to the famous (or infamous, depending on who you asked) markets of Denocte? Yes. Were they going to get punished and probably suspended when they returned home? Definitely yes.
And yet… Here they were, perusing the vendor stalls of the Night Markets.
It had started when Ard had gone to open his palette of paints only to find that they were out. He had checked the storage drawers in their small home and came up empty. Out. He was all out of paints. How the hell was he out of paints? When did that happen? A quick peruse around Terrastella proper had left them empty handed; no one was selling paints.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true, but Ard wouldn’t spend a single coin on the ‘cheap stuff’, not when he had grown accustomed to using only the finest of paints and dyes upon his canvases.
And much to his chagrin and growing irritation, he had also been out of charcoal for his sketching. Who ran out of charcoal? How? Sensing his twin’s irritation, Erd had offered his uncouth suggestion;
’What about the markets in Denocte? They always have paints and charcoals. We can go now and pick some up!’ Denocte. Denocte. Ard hated it. The few times that he had actually stepped foot in the Night Court had been willing, somewhat, but he had hated it every single time. He did not like the gypsies and dancers that plagued the streets, the heady stench of incense that floated along woodsmoke and musk, the loud voices and booming songs that echoed down the streets. They were a motley bunch, those of Denocte, and he wouldn’t trust them any further than he could throw them… Which, given his stature compared to practically everyone else in Novus, that wasn’t very far.
Regardless, somehow, someway, Erd had convinced him to go to Denocte and check their stupid markets for some paint and charcoal, and there they were. Reluctantly he would admit, though not out loud, that there were a vast assortment of artistic goods and supplies that he could readily take advantage of. Already his pockets and the satchel around his shoulders were filled with purchased supplies, the leather held close to his narrow breast to keep safe from Denocte’s sticky fingers. Side by side with his twin brother, Ard and Erd strolled the streets of the market, letting the songs and instrumental pieces play around their ears as their eyes searched for supplies to take home.
