#my aesthetic ass: i should make a banner or smt for these

[sidhewrites]

Coriander, Chapter 2a

Previous Installment found here. Approx 2800 words. Feel free to send Asks or Messages about what’s written or anything you’re curious about

JASPER KEPT HIS HAND ON CORIANDER’S BACK, urging her forward until he found a quiet spot in a shaded alleyway. The din of market day faded as he cast a spell  of quiet around them and sat her down on a barrel. His gift must have been air, she found herself thinking amidst the self judgment and shame. With control over sound like that, and the cool breeze that seemed to cool her heated face.

“Are you alright?” Jasper knelt down, partially to see her face, but mostly to ensure that she didn’t see him as a threat. Coriander wouldn’t have him looming over her if he could help it.

She nodded pathetically.

Jasper offered up a small handkerchief from somewhere on his person. She took it and wiped her eyes. With her free hand, she gripped her skirts, willing herself to calm down. It did nothing to help.

“How long have you known Hayes?”

She shrugged. Long enough to know better than to think he didn’t give discounts on wheat bread, anyway.

“Is he close to you or your family? Do you see him often?”

She nodded. At least two times a month, Her mother asked for something sweet to settle her nerves. She couldn’t find her voice to say it.

Jasper watched her for a long moment, as she cried and sniffled like a child. It wasn’t Hayes that mistreated her like that, but someone had. All the baker was guilty of, if Jasper’s guesses were correct, was a short temper and a shorter span of attention. He’d do well in Threston, he thought wryly.

The memory of the city turned Jasper’s stomach and left a bitter taste in his mouth, but he made sure not to let it show outwardly. There was nothing but softness on his features. He placed a hand over hers, and let her calm herself down.

When she could finally breathe evenly, her first words were an apology.

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Jasper insisted. “But I forgive you anyway.” He smiled, still soft and without his catty grin. “There’s many dragons in this town, Miss Tippit. I’m shocked they haven’t realized the jewel hiding under their very noses.”

Coriander furrowed her brow, but he pressed on. “Young ladies are all jewels, whether they know it or not. Whether you’re Queen Lillian herself or a serious girl from Knittelnau— who happens to have the loveliest eyes I’ve ever seen.” Another incredulous look, though she found her tears drying up all the same. “I mean it, Miss Tippit. Do you know you have flecks of green in your eyes?”

Her doubt must have shown. They were only brown, weren’t they? Plain and boring as dirt, just like the rest of her.

He smiled and shook his head. “Well — forgive me for not carrying a mirror, or I would show you myself. You’ll just have to take my word for it for now.”

He was ridiculous. It was difficult to believe Jasper had the patience he did, and she found herself wondering when it would run out.

He lasted the whole morning, at the very least. Jasper followed her about town, asking question upon question as she went about the rest of her errands— retrieving a newly-embroidered apron, Sending a letter to her cousin in Leithe, and to trade a few cloves of garlic for beets. Coriander answered each one dutifully, convinced that one wrong step would send Jasper away in ire, but he never tired of their conversation.

“What are the New Moon Feasts like here?”

“They’re very lovely. Music plays from every corner, and we have lights strung up everywhere. The first feast of every season, we wear masks and dance to old Sanctuary songs.”

“Do you have that one game where someone dresses up like the Sylph and puts flower crowns on the person she secretly wants to marry?”

“We do.”

“Were you ever the Sylph?”

“Err, Yes. Only once. I just sat down and cried because everyone was watching me.” She shrugged, and shook her head at the memory. And besides, she didn’t know anyone her age well enough to want to marry them, and had never fancied anyone even from afar. More than that, she thought, surely nobody liked her enough to even consider being her friend.

Were she a braver soul, Jasper would have teased her for being a cry baby. Instead he just smiled, and shook his head. “I never got to play – always had chores to do.” Well…chores was a kind word for it, but he wouldn’t tell her that.

“Oh, that’s terrible.” Coriander’s distress was genuine enough to break his heart. “Everyone should get a chance to play.”

“Not me. Besides, the rules where I grew up say I’d have to give it to a girl, I think. I’ve never fancied girls the way they fancied me. And they did fancy me.”

Coriander shook her head at his nonsense and the smugness in his grin.

Though Jasper never mentioned where he was from, nor did he allow the subject to remain on himself for very long, Coriander grew comfortable around him. She answered his questions about Knittelnau, it’s denizens, and its traditions, and he asked and asked and asked. When they entered each shop, Jasper referred to Coriander by name more than necessary, and she wondered if he doubted the people in Knittelnau knew who Miss Tippit was.

Then again, she doubted it herself every now and then.

He insisted on carrying the larger things: a yard of fabric for a new tablecloth from the seamstress, who commented harshly on the state of her torn skirts, a sack of ground flour from the mill, and new knives from the blacksmith. Lastly, new shoes for Coriander’s mother. It wasn’t often she needed so much— usually only cheese and and things they didn’t grow themselves— but every now and then, everything would fall apart all at once.

“Isn’t that the tree you were stuck in this afternoon?”

Coriander went red. “I wasn’t stuck.”

“Of course not.”

Her blush deepened, and she looked pointedly ahead of her as they slipped past the courtyard. Jasper kept it to himself how poorly she was hiding her fear. Coriander glanced about like a prey animal, searching for That Cat, and hoping it didn’t show up. She even held her breath until they reached the other side, as if she could cast a warding spell on herself.

Soon as they were across, her shoulders slackened and her breathing returned to normal.

“I can’t understand,” Jasper said, spooking her terribly, “why a single person needs so many shoes.”

“Um,” Coriander answered.

It cleared up nothing. Jasper did not push. Instead, he grinned and went on about his own opinion of shoes. “Of course, everyone needs more than one pair in their lifetime. Feet have a tendency to grow, and leather wears out. But more than one pair at a single time seems excessive. Especially when one must carry their life on their horse’s back.”

“You have a horse?”

“Oh, did I say horse?”

“Yes?”

“Silly me.” Jasper shook his head, and puffed his chest out importantly. “I meant the most magnificent steed this world has ever seen! Tall and sleek, with a long white mane, flowing like starlight in Hyla Lea!”

He seemed...too theatrical to be believed this time. Coriander couldn’t put her finger on how, nor could she bring herself to call him out. So she nodded, and asked, “What’s her name?”

Jasper faltered. “Uh— “

Coriander narrowed her eyes.

“Iris?”

She didn’t question him further, though there was a secret pride that she had caught him in a lie.

He went on about his shoes until they reached the shop, and managed to quiet himself enough to hold the door open for her. The act earned him a polite thank you before Coriander went on to greet the cobbler, a rough woman in her late thirties who, despite barely coming up to Coriander’s waist, could no doubt lift logs with a single hand. Nevertheless, she worked at her bench with the delicacy of a trained artist and hummed as she went. She smiled warmly, and greeted Coriander the second she looked up from her work.

“Got a friend today, Miss Tippit?” she asked, waving her awl to beckon them both inside. Though she kept her excitement mostly hidden, her grin could hardly be suppressed. She was a notorious gossip, and often filled Coriander’s visits with news around town to bring back to her mother.

Jasper smiled pleasantly, remaining until Coriander realized he wasn’t going to introduce himself. “His name is Jasper, ma’am. He says he’s a pilgrim.”

“Is he a good one?”

She looked helplessly to Jasper, not sure how to answer. He grinned that smug grin and stepped forward, bowing dramatically. “The very best,” he answered, and approached the work bench. “I’m travelling north to meet with King Erian and Queen Anielle, you see, and know the fastest route there.”

“Knittelnau is nowhere near the fastest route there.”

“Never said I was taking it."

They laughed together, and Coriander eyed them both warily. The cobbler, Olive Lyman, was kinder to Coriander than most in the town. She had large, calloused hands, dark skin, and a face that appeared angry even when smiling, but her demeanor left people with the same impression as a fresh-baked loaf of bread. She was a homemaker, and returned every kindness sent her way.

She noticed Coriander reach the workbench, despite Coriander’s wishes to remain invisible, and smiled. “The green shoes with yellow embroidery – that’s the pair you’re here for, right?”

Coriander nodded, and Olive went back to questioning Jasper, even as she stood up and looked through the boxes for the right pair. How he was liking Knittelnau, when did he arrive, and when was he leaving, and had he tried the baker’s honey bread yet? Coriander’s heart skipped a beat, especially when Jasper went quiet for a long moment.

“It’s a loss I’ll have to suffer, I’m afraid,” was all he chose to say, and turned to the shoes on display. They were all half-complete or too small to fit any feet of sensible size. Pet projects and experiments, Olive called them. Practising new ideas without wasting too many resources.

“Oh dear,” Olive mused, and said nothing more, though her clever brown eyes looked over Coriander’s reddened cheeks and understood. “How is your mother, Miss Tippit? Is her cough quite gone?”

It took a moment for Coriander to drag her attention away from Jasper to realize she’d been asked a question. “Oh—Yes, sorry, she’s feeling better. But she has a headache that won’t leave again. She wants to send for a hedgewitch if it doesn’t clear up.”

“Oh? And weren’t you telling me about the lack of funds you two had just last week?”

Coriander shrank back, lowering her gaze to the floor. “We’ll figure something out, I’m sure.”

“Perhaps if she stops buying so many extra trinkets and rings, you two would have a better time finding the coin to do so.”

She pressed her lips together and said nothing. Coriander disliked arguing at the best of times, and this was far from the best. But she wouldn’t dare think ill of her poor mother. Bestina Tippit was miserable, working night and day to care for Coriander, and deserved to treat herself to bits and bobs as often as she liked because of it.

“All the same, it’s thirty-five marks.” Olive presented the open box for Coriander to inspect.

She approached the table cautiously. The shoes were indeed as lovely as her mother had requested, with painted beads that looked like gold, and green satin to match her new gown, which would be finished just in time for Beltane. “They’re beautiful.”

Jasper was at her side in an instant, peering down himself. “They look like a wright cursed a pair of frogs, don’t you think, Miss Tippit? Like they had been two perfectly happy little things, ribbiting away in their pond, and in comes an unhappy magician and – poof – shoes they became!” He grinned.

Coriander’s ears burned, and she stammered senselessly. Graces, he was insulting Olive’s work right in front of her. How was she supposed to respond? Olive, at least, seemed amused by his theatrics, rather than offended.

Jasper deflated, losing his grin. He studied Coriander closely, arms crossed, serious as a scholar. She shrunk away from his gaze, but couldn’t find it in herself to step away. After an agonizing moment, Jasper grinned. “I’ll pay for half of it if we can squeeze a smile out of Miss Tippit. How does that sound, Miss Lyman?”

“It sounds a fine deal to me. She’s such a quiet girl, and a laugh would do her well.”

Yet again, Coriander wanted to disappear. She knew she was tolerably pretty, and more pleasant to look at when she smiled, but the idea of being put on the spot like this made her all but crumble into dust. Her heart quickened, knees quivered, and she fidgeted with a loose thread on her skirt, but her eyes remained trained on the two in front of her.

Olive, mercifully, remained in her seat, and smiled as pleasantly as she could, but Jasper was unbearably close. She half wondered if he was going to try to kiss her if it meant she’d smile, and it only made her ears burn redder.

“Or perhaps,” Jasper began, looping his arm through hers, “she would prefer we let her pretend she’s invisible for a bit longer.”

Guilt rose up in her throat, mixed with shame and relief in equal measure. While she wished she could have grinned effortlessly to make him happy, Coriander knew it would only look forced and unsatisfying. At least she would not disappoint him in that regard. She did indeed like to go about unnoticed, and all this attention was new and unsettling. Exciting, admittedly, but off putting. How did normal girls her age behave at times like this? How did normal girls think?

She looked up again to see Jasper and Olive talking once more, about her mother this time. “Oh, Bess is a sickly old thing. I say old, but she’s barely a year more than I. Poor woman is never properly well. If she isn’t coughing, she’s feverish. If she’s not feverish, she has headaches or heel spurs or ulcers. It’s a miracle her girl has only gotten sick once.”

“Is that so?” Jasper nodded sagely. “Miss Tippit is a miraculous young woman, indeed.”

Coriander flushed and looked away.

In the end, Jasper failed to drag a smile out from Coriander’s seriousness and shame, but he paid his promised part for the shoes anyway. “A pilgrim has no need for money,” he explained before she could so much as protest. “Not when there’s adventure to be had instead.”

She was quite sure pilgrims and adventurers were not the same thing, but kept the thought to herself.

Olive insisted Jasper return before he left town to see if his shoes needed mending, but let them go without much ado. She would be visiting later that week anyway, no doubt.

They made their way back to the original Courtyard where Coriander hesitated once more. She had no more errands that needed running, no more plans but going home, and her mother did not enjoy unexpected guests.

“Well,” Jasper said before she could decide on how best to excuse herself. “That was quite fun, Miss Tippit, but I ought to find my way to an inn before the good rooms are all taken up by more exciting travelers. Would you point me in the right direction?”

Shame clouded her mind for a moment. Had she bored him? Was he unhappy being around her? Perhaps he had simply realized she made poor company, and wanted to seek out someone better than her. All the same, she looked down and nodded, trying to think of the right thing to say.

Before she could, of course, Jasper insisted, “But we must meet up again tomorrow, don’t you think? I still need a guide in such a lovely town, and I can think of none better than you.”

He was surely saying it out of pity, she thought, even if his smile seemed real. Still, Coriander nodded, offering directions to the tiny inn that saw less business than a calligrapher would underwater. With a sweeping bow and another smile, Jasper wished her, “A most delightful afternoon to you, Miss Tippit,” took his leave

Coriander herself adjusted her hold on her basket, overfilled with items she’d purchased for her mother that day, and made her way home.