Post by Mala Lelik on Feb 17, 2017 0:26:14 GMT
open to Amon
Craning her head, Rumilla looked between her words, scribbled on a sheet of paper, to the decrepit store that lay ahead. Although she had been warned as much, she was still not convinced. Though, as the saying went, it was best not to judge a book by her cover— or a toy shop that is. After all, she’d been told that the place was one of the best (if not the only one) for ander toys. And well, that’s kind of what she needed, then. A toy. For the rowdy girl next to her.
Currently, Mala was playing with what seemed like trash. Actually, it was trash. A paper doll that had seen better days, but something the overgrown child had found the other day. Mala had grown found of it, and well, although Rumilla did not have the heart to tear it away from her, she was determined to get something better, and something hopefully a little more durable. Already, the paper doll was missing an arm, and part of the leg had torn.
“Mala, stop poking at the leg. It’ll survive longer.” Rumilla hummed, pulling the girl tighter to her thigh. Mala had gone back to a crouch, something the girl found solace in. For a while, she had pratcied standing upright as a “human” would do, but Rumilla told her to pay that no heed. “Do what feels right for you.” Which, it seemed, was a crouch and wearing raggedy clothes. Rumilla had let her borrow one of her old dresses, one that was scratched and dirtied, but Mala loved it as much as she loved the doll. It enabled her to play in the mud like some child, which, although others may find disturbing, did not bother Rumilla. She even had opted for the girl to remove her wig, and instead, wear a head scarf, which, from Rumilla’s perspective, looked nicer on her.
Gently, the woman bent down and planted a kiss on Mala’s cheek. “Behave, Mala.” The barmaid spoke, and tossing back a strand of her raven hair, Rumilla approached the toy stop, Mala following in tow.
Entering the establishment, the barmaid shifted her hips, running a tan hand through her hair as she whistled. Goodness, the book was not like it’s cover at all. No, instead, the inside was filled with trinkets, trinkets of all kinds of which, for one thing, was breath taking, and secondly, almost unbelievable. And almost, certainly, not a toy store. Maybe her patrons had told her wrong.
“Hello? Is anyone here? I-I heard you sell toys.” Rumilla called out, keeping Mala close to her side.
Craning her head, Rumilla looked between her words, scribbled on a sheet of paper, to the decrepit store that lay ahead. Although she had been warned as much, she was still not convinced. Though, as the saying went, it was best not to judge a book by her cover— or a toy shop that is. After all, she’d been told that the place was one of the best (if not the only one) for ander toys. And well, that’s kind of what she needed, then. A toy. For the rowdy girl next to her.
Currently, Mala was playing with what seemed like trash. Actually, it was trash. A paper doll that had seen better days, but something the overgrown child had found the other day. Mala had grown found of it, and well, although Rumilla did not have the heart to tear it away from her, she was determined to get something better, and something hopefully a little more durable. Already, the paper doll was missing an arm, and part of the leg had torn.
“Mala, stop poking at the leg. It’ll survive longer.” Rumilla hummed, pulling the girl tighter to her thigh. Mala had gone back to a crouch, something the girl found solace in. For a while, she had pratcied standing upright as a “human” would do, but Rumilla told her to pay that no heed. “Do what feels right for you.” Which, it seemed, was a crouch and wearing raggedy clothes. Rumilla had let her borrow one of her old dresses, one that was scratched and dirtied, but Mala loved it as much as she loved the doll. It enabled her to play in the mud like some child, which, although others may find disturbing, did not bother Rumilla. She even had opted for the girl to remove her wig, and instead, wear a head scarf, which, from Rumilla’s perspective, looked nicer on her.
Gently, the woman bent down and planted a kiss on Mala’s cheek. “Behave, Mala.” The barmaid spoke, and tossing back a strand of her raven hair, Rumilla approached the toy stop, Mala following in tow.
Entering the establishment, the barmaid shifted her hips, running a tan hand through her hair as she whistled. Goodness, the book was not like it’s cover at all. No, instead, the inside was filled with trinkets, trinkets of all kinds of which, for one thing, was breath taking, and secondly, almost unbelievable. And almost, certainly, not a toy store. Maybe her patrons had told her wrong.
“Hello? Is anyone here? I-I heard you sell toys.” Rumilla called out, keeping Mala close to her side.