In another location on the island, the Torsad-Laur District, the late morning crowds are filling its narrow medieval streets between the mud-brick buildings of a prior age. Some of the buildings have ivies and other climbing vines and small birds dart and in and out through their leaves.
As one passes through the winding streets, greetings and small talk can be heard between groups of neighbors, vendors, customers, and even slaves and visitors as they encounter each other in the tight spaces and stalls. All sorts of goods from across the Empire - and elsewhere - can be found here. Plumes of smoke rise from the stalls and chimneys. A thousand smells wrapped around each other in the thick air from the myriad restaurants with cuisines from all the diverse and assorted peoples of the Empire.
Periodically, the alleys dip and pass through some of the buildings, the upper floors serving as bridges for the tunnels of the alleys below. The alleys then divide and twist in almost random fashion thereafter. Some of the buildings’ windows have planters and the blossoms lean to catch what snatches of sunlight make their way into the alleys. Banners or pinwheels on other buildings flutter or spin in the breeze. Itinerant musicians can be heard somewhere in the distance.
Lunarisse Aspenstar Daphiti is clad in a red cloak, her long blonde hair peeking out from underneath. Her boots can be heard as she quickly walks over the cobblestones. She is thoughtful as she has just left morning services at one of the many chapels in the district. She has a sizeable purse held tightly to her slight lithe body under one arm, containing all that she needs for a day planetside, including a personal protective spray.
As she passes the Salvation Church Clinic, she gives a quick, pitying glance at the line of bedraggled beggars and former slaves queing up outside the mission and she tosses something into a kettle held by a supplicant for the mission outside its doors. The supplicant says in a bored monotone and without any meaning infused in it “thank you. by his light and his will.” Then the supplicant’s eyes bulge as she sees the ISK credit left in the kettle by Lunarisse and blurts out “Empress!” Overhearing, Lunarisse gives herself a small smile of satisfaction.
Further down the winding street, after smiling at a group of children chasing after a ball bouncing between cracked statues, Lunarisse enters into the garment district and her eyes light up with possibilities as she sees their wares displayed in windows lining the ways. Entering into one, she slips her hood back and is warmly greeted with two air kisses and a hug by the proprietor and such greetings are returned in kind. The store is filled with fabrics and weaves and ornate and elegant dresses. The proprietor seems pleased to see Lunarisse, perhaps the visit of a wealthy commoner and capsuleer with almost limitless coffers are warming her heart with thoughts of coins filling her registers.
Greetings exchanged, Lunarisse browses for a while running the fabrics through her hands with a content smile. Then the time for haggling begins!