More writing stuff
Sep. 17th, 2022 04:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lissalysikanThis is one I really like a beginning, but it's hard a keep doing. I'd like to do a whole story in the style of the first few paragraphs - but each retry ends up going the way this one does. Not sure how to fix it. Maybe it's a thinking style I slips into and just have to work around by going slow and redoing paragraphs when I see is going this way. (is not erotica)
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Orgneer looked down at the little city from his perch on the rock that stood out from his mountain like a balcony. He’d watched over the city for longer than any of its residents, or their parents and grandparents, had been alive. It had been a few generations of the little people since he’d let himself be seen. There had been a time when he’d let them worship him, but that time was gone. Their worship came with a price he wasn’t willing to exact from them any more. Fear. Fear was not a nice thing to see in the little people. The ones that didn’t react by offering him gold, which he had no use for, and cows that he did, responded by trying to show their bravery by throwing sharpened sticks at him. The sticks didn’t do anything other than make him sad that they wanted to hurt him. Puffing a little smoke from his grumbling stomach, he burped a tiny belch of flames. It wasn’t his fault he always had indigestion, but the little people feared it. He crawled back from the rock into his cave, pushing the mounds of gold and jewels around in a tiny bit of temper. He wished, once again, that there were more dragons in the world. Dragons that would understand him, not fear him. It had been too many generations of little people since he’d last seen another giant with wings that could black out the sky over an entire village.
Nara looked into the mirror and sighed. A bit past twenty and she still looked ten. The only men who looked at her with desire were perverts. She’d let a few woo her, but could never let it go past a little kissing and touching. Knowing they only wanted her for her childish looks got in the way of going further. She liked being spoiled, being given gifts in exchange for showing them a little skin, letting them touch her, but she wanted more. A man that wanted her for who she was, not what she looked like. That kind of man never looked at her twice, though. She respected the men that passed her by. They were looking for more than she let them see - adult women that could handle themselves and possibly a house full of children. The thought of having children lessened her regrets a little. Screaming little babies made her cringe. Cute children were okay - she could handle being around them. Most of the people she knew were children and she enjoyed playing with them - and they liked watching her make fires and snowflakes dance. Adults just looked at what she did and smiled, then walked away. She’d been tempted to show them the power of the elements but always held back. She’d seen how they reacted to shows of power from the few mages that passed through town. People being afraid of her would be worse than them seeing her as a child. Putting away the dress she’d been thinking of wearing, she pulled on a pair of boy’s trousers. Being a kid wasn’t all bad - little girls could get away with walking around in just short trousers, women needed to be covered from head to toe.
Horan tossed his spear at the pile of straw he’d shaped into a dragon’s head. He’d rather shoot his bow at it, but true warriors didn’t use bows - those were a hunter’s weapons. At least hunters had a place - there wasn’t much need for warriors. The little city he’d grown up in was too small to interest the kingdoms in war, and dragons were a myth. Even his great grandfather had admitted he’d never seen a dragon, and he’d been born nearly a hundred years ago. Looking down at his bare feet, Horan smirked. It wasn’t like he could be a warrior anyway - his parents couldn’t afford to buy him shoes, never mind armor. Lacking a shirt, he wiped his sweaty hands on his leather trousers, then went to retrieve his makeshift spear. The little metal point he’d fashioned for it had outlasted several shafts he’d cut from the small trees his father let him use. The big trees were needed for firewood they could sell to the people that feared to leave the city. Using the spear to smack the mound of straw around the yard, he trudged back to the little hovel he called home.
Scowling at the trousers and shirt her mother had put out for her to wear instead of the dress a proper woman would wear, Iris kicked the shoes that had been placed with them. They weren’t any better than going barefoot, in her opinion. Soft leather that seemed impervious to the amount of wear she’d put them through, she admitted they were better than the fancy boots with hard soles that she had to save for going into the keep - not that she did that often enough to justify the cost of the boots. Bare feet were more comfortable than any kind of shoes. Stretching in front of her mirror, a polished piece of metal, not the shiny glass that she saw in shops, she watched her small breasts jiggle. They were too small for a girl her age. Her friends had started to wear bands around their chests to keep theirs from bouncing, painfully, by the time they were in their mid-teens. The idea of having large breasts for boys to leer at appealed to her - having them hurt when she ran, which she loved to do, didn’t so much. Dressing in front of the mirror, she pulled her long hair loose to let it flow around her. It was the one thing that made her look like a girl and she loved it. Taking a look at the long-haired almost-pretty boy in the mirror, she stuck her tongue out at it then sighed and left her room.
“So, what are you up to today, Iris?” Iris’s mother, Fiora, looked her daughter over. “Going out to meet the woodcutter’s son again?” The distaste she had for poor people, in spite of being one of them, was noticeable.
“Horan can’t help being born poor.” Iris tried to bite her tongue and failed, “any more than I can.” She saw the hurt in her mother’s face but let it pass. The confrontation had happened too many times for her to feel bad about it. “Yes, I’m going to see him. His house is right by the city gate, you know.” She rolled her eyes. “Or would you rather I sit here being bitter about not being rich enough to live in the city, like you do?”
“You’re not too old for a spanking!” Fiora snapped.
“That’s not what you said to Da the last time he tried.” Iris smirked. “You need to stop, Ma. We’re poor and I don’t look like the kind of girl that the rich boys want, so just stop. Dressing me in shirts and trousers instead of dresses doesn’t help. I make friends with the people that want to be friends with me. If they’re poor, well, so are we. There’s no kid story with a handsome prince saving me from my life gonna happen.” She stomped, pretending it didn’t hurt, to the door of their shack and punched it open, wincing as one of the planks cracked. Da was not going to like that. If she was lucky he’d blame Ma for making her mad enough to do it. She stomped, a little softer, up the road toward the city.
“You’re stomping.” Horan took Iris’s hand, then looked at it. “What did you hit this time?” He caressed her knuckles softly. “With all the punching you do I’m surprised your hands aren’t huge. Or hard, at least.”
Smirking, Iris looked at Horan’s soft hands as he caressed hers. “The door. I broke a piece, so Da’s gonna be mad.” She grimaced. “Maybe you should punch something once in a while if it’s supposed to make hands big.” Seeing the hurt in his eyes, she caressed his face with her free hand. “I’m sorry, that was mean. I’m mad at Ma, not you.” She smiled as he kissed her palm. “One of these days you’re going to start growing a beard and I won’t be able to do this any more. I don’t like scratchy faces.”
“Psh. I doubt I’ll grow any more beard than I do muscles.” Putting the hand he was caressing to his lips again, he kissed the reddened knuckles. “You’re a girl and stronger than me. I practice all the time and still,” he shrugged. “I’m a skinny runt and always will be.”
“You’re not a runt, just skinny. And you’re strong, you just think bigger muscles mean stronger. That’s not how it works.” Iris smiled at him, then kissed his cheek. They’d tried kissing each other’s lips but it hadn’t gone far, since they’d been about seven at the time. Iris was tempted to try it again. “You just need to punch things more. Or maybe not - I’m too close to you and don’t want to be punched.”
Punching Iris lightly on the shoulder, Horan grinned. “Like you? You punch anything that moves - and some things that don’t - and you’re skinny as a rail.” He looked down at her legs, then her feet. “I can’t believe you stomped all the way here with those shoes. Your feet must hurt!”
“Maybe a little.” Iris sat on the road and pulled her shoes off, handing them to Horan. “Here, you wear them. They’re comfortable, if you like shoes.” She started rubbing the soles of her feet. “Don’t stomp on stone roads with them, though.”
Sitting cross-legged on the side of the road, Horan grabbed her ankles and dragged her off the road. Pulling her feet into his lap, he massaged them carefully. “Your feet are too soft for stomping, anyway. Comes from being a girl and wearing shoes all the time.” He smiled at her soft sighs. “You like this.”
“Mmhmm. Feels so good it’s almost naughty.” Iris giggled, her cheeks pink, and wiggled her feet in his hands. “Okay, I’ll wear the shoes. But only because going into the city barefoot would cause more aggravation than it’s worth, not because you made me feel better.” As he reached for the shoes, Iris reached out and ran a hand over one of his feet. “You’re not a girl and never wear shoes, so how is it your feet are as soft as mine and prettier?”
“The same reason I don’t have hair on my chest, can’t grow a beard, and have muscles that make kids giggle,” Horan snapped, then smirked at her and sighed as she continued to caress the bottom of his foot. “And you’re right, it does feel sort of naughty.” He curled his toes. “Sorry I snapped at you, it’s not your fault I’m a girl everywhere but, um, down there. Mom thinks it’s my fault - she keeps asking when I’m going to decide to be a man.”
“That’s silly.” Iris looked at him, tilting her head as she watched his hands put her shoes back on her feet. “Although you do make a beautiful girl. And that’s a compliment so don’t get mad. I like you the way you are.”
“Thanks. It helps a little. I mean, knowing that you like me the way I am, not that I look like a beautiful girl. That part is kind of the opposite of helping. But I think I like that, too, in a way.” Horan stood and took Iris’s hands, helping her to her feet. “Shall we go scandalize the cityfolk by being who we are?”
Giggling, Iris started walking with him, holding hands the way they’d done as children.
Nara sat on the edge of the fountain in the city square. She looked around at the way the market stalls had been set up, and smirked. It was called a square only because calling it the city octagon would confuse a lot of people, particularly the nobility, she believed. One requirement to be a noble was to have most of your brains knocked out, or be born without them in the first place. Not that there weren’t a few she did respect, they were just a very small minority. None of them knew her, as far as she was aware - important people didn’t pay attention to children. She relied on that a bit too much, she admitted to herself.
Seeing Iris and Horan pass through the gates, Nara jumped off the fountain and ran to them. Pushing them apart, she grabbed the freed hands and walked between them. “Hi! It’s good to see you! I was getting bored.”
“And a bored Nara is a dangerous Nara.” Iris squeezed Nara’s hand. “Managed to stay out of trouble today?” Iris liked the kid that wasn’t a kid and found it amusing that most people hadn’t noticed Nara’s perpetual childhood.
“I never get in trouble.” Nara grinned. “I might plant some once in a while, but I’m never in it when it blooms.” While Horan and Iris were quite a bit younger than her, she enjoyed their company a lot. They were a nice break from the children she usually spent time with, and they knew she was older than she appeared so that didn’t cause issues.
“We know.” Horan lifted Nara by her hand, smiling at Iris as she did the same, pulling Nara off her feet. “You leave us to deal with the results.”
“You know you like it. Adds excitement to otherwise boring lives.” Nara kicked her feet as if walking on air while they carried her. “One of these days I’ll bring a dragon here to really spice things up.”
“Not soon, I hope. I still can’t throw a spear any harder than you could, and I don’t have magic to make it fly any better.” Horan had seen her throw a spear with her magic. The first few times he’d felt bad about it, but eventually accepted that magic didn’t count when comparing what he could do with what she did.
“Use a bow, silly. For fighting a dragon you’d rather, anyway. Stay out of range of its burps of fire.” Nara squeezed his hand. “And stop worrying about it. We all got our strengths. Yours is looking so pretty that all the guys want to, well, you’re too young to know what they want to do with you.” She giggled at his blush.
“That’s enough, Nara!” Iris yanked gently at Nara’s hand. She knew she was blushing almost as much as Horan was at the mention of sex. “There aren’t any dragons to bring. We aren’t your little playmates, you know, to be scared of tales. Even magical ones.”
“Psh. There are so. They’re just hiding in the mountains, waiting for when people have forgotten them. Then they’ll come swooping in and grab all the cows and take them away. No more milk or beef. The cityfolk will scream for dragon hunters to get their milk back. A man good with a bow, and maybe a magic user to help him, could be a hero.” Nara grinned at Horan. “A really pretty man would have his choice of women. Or men.” She squeaked as Iris and Horan let go of her hands at the same time, dropping her to her feet. “A nicer pretty man.” She giggled as she took their hands again.
“I don’t think I would be any better with a bow than I am with a spear. I’m not a hunter.” Horan was pretty sure he would be. He’d played with a bow a few times and felt more comfortable with it than he did with a spear. It seemed he was always more comfortable doing things that didn’t fit with his, and his parent’s, idea of a warrior.
“You should try it, Horan.” Iris smiled at him. “I’ve heard that it takes different muscles to use.” She’d been trying to get him away from his fixation on being a warrior for years. Not that she believed Nara’s talk of dragons any more than he did. “At least it would be more interesting for you than doing the same thing you’ve been trying.”
“I’ve got enough money to buy us a round of beer.” Horan tried to change the topic. “You got some to buy a second, Iris?”
“Yes, but let’s wait a bit? I don’t have enough for more than one.” Iris hated running out of beer before it was time to go home. Having a little buzz from the beer made it easier for her to ignore her mother’s ranting.
“How about we look at the traveler’s stuff for a bit?” Nara tugged them toward the stalls used by merchants that trekked between cities offering wares that were different from what local people produced. “I have a bit of money saved, since I let other people buy my drinks.”
“Ha. You let other people buy almost everything you need - or want. One of these days someone is going to get mad that you don’t give them what they want in exchange.” Iris looked down at Nara, “unless you do?”
“I don’t.” Nara let loose Iris's hand to point at a display of dresses. “You would look lovely in one of those, Iris! Look at all the colors!” The dresses she was pointing at were made of a very light, thin cloth colored brightly, contrasting with the clothing that the people of Oringan wore, which tended to be gray or dull tan and heavy. “You should get one.” She looked at Horan, then back at the dresses. Pulling out a deep green dress with brighter green trim, she held it toward him. “You’d look good in this one, Horan. It even has padding in the chest to make you look like you have tits.”
“You really want a smack, don’t you?” Horan looked at the dress. “Pretty colors, though. Looks sort of like a forest.” He looked at Iris, then back at the dress. “Not enough red for you, though. I think you need deep red … maroon, I think it’s called? With light pink trim.”
“Don’t tease me. You know Ma isn’t going to pay for a dress for me. She says I don’t look enough like a girl to make it worth the money.”
“So she dresses you like a boy and then complains that you look like a boy.” Nara hmphed. “I’d like that dress, but it’s too big to make it fit me.”
The shopkeeper smiled down at Nara. “Unfortunately, I can’t make things ahead of time that would fit with just a little tailoring. There aren’t enough people that would buy those sizes. But I could make one for you, if you want. I’ll just need to measure you - and hope you don’t grow between now and when it’s done.”
Nara giggled. “I can guarantee that won’t happen. I’ll come by next time you’re here and tell you if I want it? I have to think about the cost.”
“Tell you what - I’ll drop the cost to half if you promise to tell people I made it for you. Maybe some of the parents around here would buy for their children if they could see how they would look in such nice things.”
Smiling, Nara nodded. “Yeah. Some of the richer people would probably want to dress their kids up finer just to make sure ‘that strange kid’ didn’t look better. Give this town some color.”
“What, you don’t think ‘dirt’ is a decorative enough color?” The shopkeeper smiled down at Nara. “I like you, kid. You wear my clothes and I’ll give you a discount on every one. Until I get too busy, of course.”
“Of course. Just use me to get popular and then toss me away. I see how it is.” Nara giggled and tugged at Horan and Iris. “We should go before I spend money.”
______
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Orgneer looked down at the little city from his perch on the rock that stood out from his mountain like a balcony. He’d watched over the city for longer than any of its residents, or their parents and grandparents, had been alive. It had been a few generations of the little people since he’d let himself be seen. There had been a time when he’d let them worship him, but that time was gone. Their worship came with a price he wasn’t willing to exact from them any more. Fear. Fear was not a nice thing to see in the little people. The ones that didn’t react by offering him gold, which he had no use for, and cows that he did, responded by trying to show their bravery by throwing sharpened sticks at him. The sticks didn’t do anything other than make him sad that they wanted to hurt him. Puffing a little smoke from his grumbling stomach, he burped a tiny belch of flames. It wasn’t his fault he always had indigestion, but the little people feared it. He crawled back from the rock into his cave, pushing the mounds of gold and jewels around in a tiny bit of temper. He wished, once again, that there were more dragons in the world. Dragons that would understand him, not fear him. It had been too many generations of little people since he’d last seen another giant with wings that could black out the sky over an entire village.
Nara looked into the mirror and sighed. A bit past twenty and she still looked ten. The only men who looked at her with desire were perverts. She’d let a few woo her, but could never let it go past a little kissing and touching. Knowing they only wanted her for her childish looks got in the way of going further. She liked being spoiled, being given gifts in exchange for showing them a little skin, letting them touch her, but she wanted more. A man that wanted her for who she was, not what she looked like. That kind of man never looked at her twice, though. She respected the men that passed her by. They were looking for more than she let them see - adult women that could handle themselves and possibly a house full of children. The thought of having children lessened her regrets a little. Screaming little babies made her cringe. Cute children were okay - she could handle being around them. Most of the people she knew were children and she enjoyed playing with them - and they liked watching her make fires and snowflakes dance. Adults just looked at what she did and smiled, then walked away. She’d been tempted to show them the power of the elements but always held back. She’d seen how they reacted to shows of power from the few mages that passed through town. People being afraid of her would be worse than them seeing her as a child. Putting away the dress she’d been thinking of wearing, she pulled on a pair of boy’s trousers. Being a kid wasn’t all bad - little girls could get away with walking around in just short trousers, women needed to be covered from head to toe.
Horan tossed his spear at the pile of straw he’d shaped into a dragon’s head. He’d rather shoot his bow at it, but true warriors didn’t use bows - those were a hunter’s weapons. At least hunters had a place - there wasn’t much need for warriors. The little city he’d grown up in was too small to interest the kingdoms in war, and dragons were a myth. Even his great grandfather had admitted he’d never seen a dragon, and he’d been born nearly a hundred years ago. Looking down at his bare feet, Horan smirked. It wasn’t like he could be a warrior anyway - his parents couldn’t afford to buy him shoes, never mind armor. Lacking a shirt, he wiped his sweaty hands on his leather trousers, then went to retrieve his makeshift spear. The little metal point he’d fashioned for it had outlasted several shafts he’d cut from the small trees his father let him use. The big trees were needed for firewood they could sell to the people that feared to leave the city. Using the spear to smack the mound of straw around the yard, he trudged back to the little hovel he called home.
Scowling at the trousers and shirt her mother had put out for her to wear instead of the dress a proper woman would wear, Iris kicked the shoes that had been placed with them. They weren’t any better than going barefoot, in her opinion. Soft leather that seemed impervious to the amount of wear she’d put them through, she admitted they were better than the fancy boots with hard soles that she had to save for going into the keep - not that she did that often enough to justify the cost of the boots. Bare feet were more comfortable than any kind of shoes. Stretching in front of her mirror, a polished piece of metal, not the shiny glass that she saw in shops, she watched her small breasts jiggle. They were too small for a girl her age. Her friends had started to wear bands around their chests to keep theirs from bouncing, painfully, by the time they were in their mid-teens. The idea of having large breasts for boys to leer at appealed to her - having them hurt when she ran, which she loved to do, didn’t so much. Dressing in front of the mirror, she pulled her long hair loose to let it flow around her. It was the one thing that made her look like a girl and she loved it. Taking a look at the long-haired almost-pretty boy in the mirror, she stuck her tongue out at it then sighed and left her room.
“So, what are you up to today, Iris?” Iris’s mother, Fiora, looked her daughter over. “Going out to meet the woodcutter’s son again?” The distaste she had for poor people, in spite of being one of them, was noticeable.
“Horan can’t help being born poor.” Iris tried to bite her tongue and failed, “any more than I can.” She saw the hurt in her mother’s face but let it pass. The confrontation had happened too many times for her to feel bad about it. “Yes, I’m going to see him. His house is right by the city gate, you know.” She rolled her eyes. “Or would you rather I sit here being bitter about not being rich enough to live in the city, like you do?”
“You’re not too old for a spanking!” Fiora snapped.
“That’s not what you said to Da the last time he tried.” Iris smirked. “You need to stop, Ma. We’re poor and I don’t look like the kind of girl that the rich boys want, so just stop. Dressing me in shirts and trousers instead of dresses doesn’t help. I make friends with the people that want to be friends with me. If they’re poor, well, so are we. There’s no kid story with a handsome prince saving me from my life gonna happen.” She stomped, pretending it didn’t hurt, to the door of their shack and punched it open, wincing as one of the planks cracked. Da was not going to like that. If she was lucky he’d blame Ma for making her mad enough to do it. She stomped, a little softer, up the road toward the city.
“You’re stomping.” Horan took Iris’s hand, then looked at it. “What did you hit this time?” He caressed her knuckles softly. “With all the punching you do I’m surprised your hands aren’t huge. Or hard, at least.”
Smirking, Iris looked at Horan’s soft hands as he caressed hers. “The door. I broke a piece, so Da’s gonna be mad.” She grimaced. “Maybe you should punch something once in a while if it’s supposed to make hands big.” Seeing the hurt in his eyes, she caressed his face with her free hand. “I’m sorry, that was mean. I’m mad at Ma, not you.” She smiled as he kissed her palm. “One of these days you’re going to start growing a beard and I won’t be able to do this any more. I don’t like scratchy faces.”
“Psh. I doubt I’ll grow any more beard than I do muscles.” Putting the hand he was caressing to his lips again, he kissed the reddened knuckles. “You’re a girl and stronger than me. I practice all the time and still,” he shrugged. “I’m a skinny runt and always will be.”
“You’re not a runt, just skinny. And you’re strong, you just think bigger muscles mean stronger. That’s not how it works.” Iris smiled at him, then kissed his cheek. They’d tried kissing each other’s lips but it hadn’t gone far, since they’d been about seven at the time. Iris was tempted to try it again. “You just need to punch things more. Or maybe not - I’m too close to you and don’t want to be punched.”
Punching Iris lightly on the shoulder, Horan grinned. “Like you? You punch anything that moves - and some things that don’t - and you’re skinny as a rail.” He looked down at her legs, then her feet. “I can’t believe you stomped all the way here with those shoes. Your feet must hurt!”
“Maybe a little.” Iris sat on the road and pulled her shoes off, handing them to Horan. “Here, you wear them. They’re comfortable, if you like shoes.” She started rubbing the soles of her feet. “Don’t stomp on stone roads with them, though.”
Sitting cross-legged on the side of the road, Horan grabbed her ankles and dragged her off the road. Pulling her feet into his lap, he massaged them carefully. “Your feet are too soft for stomping, anyway. Comes from being a girl and wearing shoes all the time.” He smiled at her soft sighs. “You like this.”
“Mmhmm. Feels so good it’s almost naughty.” Iris giggled, her cheeks pink, and wiggled her feet in his hands. “Okay, I’ll wear the shoes. But only because going into the city barefoot would cause more aggravation than it’s worth, not because you made me feel better.” As he reached for the shoes, Iris reached out and ran a hand over one of his feet. “You’re not a girl and never wear shoes, so how is it your feet are as soft as mine and prettier?”
“The same reason I don’t have hair on my chest, can’t grow a beard, and have muscles that make kids giggle,” Horan snapped, then smirked at her and sighed as she continued to caress the bottom of his foot. “And you’re right, it does feel sort of naughty.” He curled his toes. “Sorry I snapped at you, it’s not your fault I’m a girl everywhere but, um, down there. Mom thinks it’s my fault - she keeps asking when I’m going to decide to be a man.”
“That’s silly.” Iris looked at him, tilting her head as she watched his hands put her shoes back on her feet. “Although you do make a beautiful girl. And that’s a compliment so don’t get mad. I like you the way you are.”
“Thanks. It helps a little. I mean, knowing that you like me the way I am, not that I look like a beautiful girl. That part is kind of the opposite of helping. But I think I like that, too, in a way.” Horan stood and took Iris’s hands, helping her to her feet. “Shall we go scandalize the cityfolk by being who we are?”
Giggling, Iris started walking with him, holding hands the way they’d done as children.
Nara sat on the edge of the fountain in the city square. She looked around at the way the market stalls had been set up, and smirked. It was called a square only because calling it the city octagon would confuse a lot of people, particularly the nobility, she believed. One requirement to be a noble was to have most of your brains knocked out, or be born without them in the first place. Not that there weren’t a few she did respect, they were just a very small minority. None of them knew her, as far as she was aware - important people didn’t pay attention to children. She relied on that a bit too much, she admitted to herself.
Seeing Iris and Horan pass through the gates, Nara jumped off the fountain and ran to them. Pushing them apart, she grabbed the freed hands and walked between them. “Hi! It’s good to see you! I was getting bored.”
“And a bored Nara is a dangerous Nara.” Iris squeezed Nara’s hand. “Managed to stay out of trouble today?” Iris liked the kid that wasn’t a kid and found it amusing that most people hadn’t noticed Nara’s perpetual childhood.
“I never get in trouble.” Nara grinned. “I might plant some once in a while, but I’m never in it when it blooms.” While Horan and Iris were quite a bit younger than her, she enjoyed their company a lot. They were a nice break from the children she usually spent time with, and they knew she was older than she appeared so that didn’t cause issues.
“We know.” Horan lifted Nara by her hand, smiling at Iris as she did the same, pulling Nara off her feet. “You leave us to deal with the results.”
“You know you like it. Adds excitement to otherwise boring lives.” Nara kicked her feet as if walking on air while they carried her. “One of these days I’ll bring a dragon here to really spice things up.”
“Not soon, I hope. I still can’t throw a spear any harder than you could, and I don’t have magic to make it fly any better.” Horan had seen her throw a spear with her magic. The first few times he’d felt bad about it, but eventually accepted that magic didn’t count when comparing what he could do with what she did.
“Use a bow, silly. For fighting a dragon you’d rather, anyway. Stay out of range of its burps of fire.” Nara squeezed his hand. “And stop worrying about it. We all got our strengths. Yours is looking so pretty that all the guys want to, well, you’re too young to know what they want to do with you.” She giggled at his blush.
“That’s enough, Nara!” Iris yanked gently at Nara’s hand. She knew she was blushing almost as much as Horan was at the mention of sex. “There aren’t any dragons to bring. We aren’t your little playmates, you know, to be scared of tales. Even magical ones.”
“Psh. There are so. They’re just hiding in the mountains, waiting for when people have forgotten them. Then they’ll come swooping in and grab all the cows and take them away. No more milk or beef. The cityfolk will scream for dragon hunters to get their milk back. A man good with a bow, and maybe a magic user to help him, could be a hero.” Nara grinned at Horan. “A really pretty man would have his choice of women. Or men.” She squeaked as Iris and Horan let go of her hands at the same time, dropping her to her feet. “A nicer pretty man.” She giggled as she took their hands again.
“I don’t think I would be any better with a bow than I am with a spear. I’m not a hunter.” Horan was pretty sure he would be. He’d played with a bow a few times and felt more comfortable with it than he did with a spear. It seemed he was always more comfortable doing things that didn’t fit with his, and his parent’s, idea of a warrior.
“You should try it, Horan.” Iris smiled at him. “I’ve heard that it takes different muscles to use.” She’d been trying to get him away from his fixation on being a warrior for years. Not that she believed Nara’s talk of dragons any more than he did. “At least it would be more interesting for you than doing the same thing you’ve been trying.”
“I’ve got enough money to buy us a round of beer.” Horan tried to change the topic. “You got some to buy a second, Iris?”
“Yes, but let’s wait a bit? I don’t have enough for more than one.” Iris hated running out of beer before it was time to go home. Having a little buzz from the beer made it easier for her to ignore her mother’s ranting.
“How about we look at the traveler’s stuff for a bit?” Nara tugged them toward the stalls used by merchants that trekked between cities offering wares that were different from what local people produced. “I have a bit of money saved, since I let other people buy my drinks.”
“Ha. You let other people buy almost everything you need - or want. One of these days someone is going to get mad that you don’t give them what they want in exchange.” Iris looked down at Nara, “unless you do?”
“I don’t.” Nara let loose Iris's hand to point at a display of dresses. “You would look lovely in one of those, Iris! Look at all the colors!” The dresses she was pointing at were made of a very light, thin cloth colored brightly, contrasting with the clothing that the people of Oringan wore, which tended to be gray or dull tan and heavy. “You should get one.” She looked at Horan, then back at the dresses. Pulling out a deep green dress with brighter green trim, she held it toward him. “You’d look good in this one, Horan. It even has padding in the chest to make you look like you have tits.”
“You really want a smack, don’t you?” Horan looked at the dress. “Pretty colors, though. Looks sort of like a forest.” He looked at Iris, then back at the dress. “Not enough red for you, though. I think you need deep red … maroon, I think it’s called? With light pink trim.”
“Don’t tease me. You know Ma isn’t going to pay for a dress for me. She says I don’t look enough like a girl to make it worth the money.”
“So she dresses you like a boy and then complains that you look like a boy.” Nara hmphed. “I’d like that dress, but it’s too big to make it fit me.”
The shopkeeper smiled down at Nara. “Unfortunately, I can’t make things ahead of time that would fit with just a little tailoring. There aren’t enough people that would buy those sizes. But I could make one for you, if you want. I’ll just need to measure you - and hope you don’t grow between now and when it’s done.”
Nara giggled. “I can guarantee that won’t happen. I’ll come by next time you’re here and tell you if I want it? I have to think about the cost.”
“Tell you what - I’ll drop the cost to half if you promise to tell people I made it for you. Maybe some of the parents around here would buy for their children if they could see how they would look in such nice things.”
Smiling, Nara nodded. “Yeah. Some of the richer people would probably want to dress their kids up finer just to make sure ‘that strange kid’ didn’t look better. Give this town some color.”
“What, you don’t think ‘dirt’ is a decorative enough color?” The shopkeeper smiled down at Nara. “I like you, kid. You wear my clothes and I’ll give you a discount on every one. Until I get too busy, of course.”
“Of course. Just use me to get popular and then toss me away. I see how it is.” Nara giggled and tugged at Horan and Iris. “We should go before I spend money.”
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