Chapter Text
1510 DR
Prompt: Wandering through the Midwinter Bazaar
Nephiah had never been the greatest fan of open markets. Back home, in Menzoberranzan, they were a cesspool of crime and commoners, and she much preferred to send a servant out or place a private order with her artisans when she desired something. But her dear Heart wanted to go to the city's Midwinter Market, in line with the surface tradition of celebrating these vile changes in seasons, so she had no choice but to comply.
And speaking of her dear Heart, her beautiful voice interrupted her now: “Nephiah? Do you think he would like this?”
Nephiah turned from the necklace she’d been eyeing to the one her Heart was holding. The two were perusing a jeweler’s stand, searching for Midwinter gifts for their sons. Shadowheart had already found a pendant, with a teardrop-shaped opal in a wrought silver cage. “He’s always wearing that holy symbol of his,” Shadowheart continued, referring to the simple, engraved medallion Urchil kept like a timepiece. “I thought he might like something nicer to match it.”
“Hm… it is beautiful, but Riysraevir tends to prefer the gemstones,” Nephiah mused. Their true son’s eye for fine jewelry, and particularly gemstones, was something he had inherited from her. Urchil saw nice things as nothing more than something to be pawned for cash to run that funny little inn of his. Which made him notoriously difficult to shop for. “Let me see…”
She turned her gaze back to the table, away from sparkling gems and delicate finery, to the simpler armbands. After a moment of searching, she plucked one with twining features, weaves in the thick silver “core” forming eye-like, diamond shapes through its center, from the table.
“What do you think about this?” Nephiah twined the pieces through her spindly fingers. She didn’t miss the way the shopkeep watched her closely, and she smiled reassuringly back. Stealing was far more trouble than it was worth, when you had more than enough money to throw around.
Shadowheart took it, then smiled. “I think it’s perfect. You do have a good eye.”
“Three-hundred years of practice, my love.”
“Ehem, two-hundred?”
“And forty-eight, but I like to round up.” Her brother or sister surely would have thrown a fit about how that wasn’t how rounding worked, but they weren’t here, now were they?
As Shadowheart returned the original necklace, Nephiah fished out her coin pouch. Once they had paid a rather low sum for the piece and tucked it away, Shadowheart hooked her arm in her wife’s, and pulled her away from the merchant stalls and toward the other festivities: games and food. Even Nephiah had to admit the latter did smell nice. Not as nice as roasted lizard or glazed rothe-on-a-stick, but, well, foreign things had always enticed her.
She drew closer to Shadowheart, however, as a passerby in the crowd bumped into her. The druid growled softly, drawing her Heart’s eye. She smiled wryly and chuckled, “Still not a fan of crowds?”
Nephiah responded by tucking her belt purse inside her skirt pocket, still beneath her massive woollen cloak. “This is Baldur’s Gate. Twenty years here, and I still think every time we leave the city without a knife in someone’s side, it is a blessing of Lady Lolth.”
Shadowheart laughed at that, a soft and quick sound that still never failed to bring a smile to the drow’s face. “Well, don’t worry,” She said, wrapping her arm around Nephiah’s waist. “I’ll protect you from these horrible little surface dwellers, hm?”
Nephiah chuckled, leaning up and to the side so she could kiss her cheek. “Thank you for your valiant sacrifice, Love.”
“Of course. Now, how do you feel about finding some sweet rolls?”