[CLOSED] someone needs to be rescued

[wheretheferngrows]

WHO: Fern Doirnáin + Nell Voss
WHAT: Summary of content
WHEN: A few days after the island crew return from their misadventure.
WHERE: Kirkwall
NOTES: Some anti-elf racism from a shem NPC.

At some point between the docks and the Chantry forest, Fern takes a wrong turn.

It's not a premeditated decision to veer from her normal route, but she doesn't often see the Lowtown markets so full to bursting with hats and scarves and other trinkets, things that look so nice, that remind her of her mother, and Aunt Lorna, and her brothers. She's derailed from her destination entirely in her effort to pick up a few presents to send home; surely gifts will be enough to offset her family's anger at her for leaving home without a word.

The street vendor she approaches with her small collection of parcels is eyeing her with undisguised disdain, his eyes fixed on her ears more than her face (though there is an occasional scowl sent towards her staff, too). "You'd better have the coin for all that."

"'Course I've got the coin," Fern shoots back at him defensively and reaches for her pocketbook--only to encounter a loose clasp where the little bit of leather normally hangs. "Wait--"

No, it's definitely not there. "No--" she blurts out and drops to the ground to pat around in the dirt in search of her coin purse, but no, if she'd dropped it, she hadn't done so here. "No, no, no--"

"Oi!" The vendor comes around the other side of his stall, red-faced and furious, "What you think you're doing dropping my wares in the dirt like that, you little knife-eared wretch!"

The slur hits Fern like a slap in the face, and she stays crouched on the ground, paralyzed from sudden anxiety. The vendor is a big man, muscled and hard-faced; he could hurt her. She shakes her head quickly, already gathering the parcels up into her arms from where she'd dropped them. "I'm--I'm sorry, I think--"

"You think what?" The fellow wears an ugly sneer on his face. The crowd of market-goers has parted around them swiftly, and even the few city elves in the crowd seem keener to turn away than step in; they know well what happens to elves who intervene in shem business outside the alienage, here. The vendor remains unperturbed by the look of wide-eyed fear on Fern's face. "You think you can just get away with nicking my goods and not face some consequences for it? Your kind--you never bloody learn--" He makes to grab for her until Fern, crying out in fright, snatches up her staff, and he stops short.

"S-stay back!" she blurts out.

This is escalating quickly.

Comments

[wheretheferngrows]

Sitting thoughtfully across the table from Nell, Fern isn't sure she believes everything she says... however:

"I'll do it--I want to learn." She doesn't hesitate, and why should she? A competent, confident mage has just offered to teach her everything about magic that she has longed to learn, but never could in the past because her aunt had neither the skills nor the willingness to try. Opportunities like this normally happen to other people in adventure stories--never before to her. Leaning forward earnestly, she says, "Please, teach me, I promise I won't be lazy or a bore, I'll show up to all my lessons on time--"

She hasn't quite sorted out how she'll deal with the studying in the library part yet, considering she can barely read, but, well. Cross (or burn) that bridge when she gets to it.