When the two reach the stall and Rastellion leans against a low wall, smiling, while Immalaine tries on the various cloaks, one after another, examining herself in the half-mirror mounted on the outside of the stall itself. "Any favorites?" he asks, after more than a few minute pass in this fashion.
Immalaine looks between two, debating before she finally points to one with a swirling pattern, made of incredible soft but warm cloth. "That one," she says and looks at him. "I think is th' best choice."
Rastellion nods, checks the price, and winces.
The salesman, seeing this, turns to Immalaine. "Ah, but you've got a good eye miss!" He pulls it off the rack and holds it up to her. "Suits you right well it does, with your lovely hair and eyes." He nods ingratiatingly at Rastellion. "You're a lucky fellow, young man, having a pretty friend like this - and you too, miss," he says, turning back without pause, "t' have a fellow to take such good care of you, makin' sure you stay warm and all."
Shaking his head slightly, he mutters to himself, "Town full o' bandits!", but he hands over the coins to the smiling salesman, who gives him a cheery grin along with the cloak, and then scurries back to his stall to upsell the next customer.
"Then, here you go," Rastellion tells Immalaine, handing it over, and she gives him a long hug. "Thank ye, dear!" It'll be perfect t' keep the cold off while we're here." She opens the cloak up and then drapes it over her shoulders for him to see, and Rastellion smiles down as she twirls around.
"You look warmer already... though I expect Zandrianna will be having that dyed to match your dress when we get back to Bree.. .you know how she is about such things!"
Immalaine nods and grins at Rastellion's mention of Zandrianna. "Yer right, I 'magine Lady Zandrianna will send it right off t' be matched with me dress, soon as she sees it." She turns and leans up to kiss his cheek, "She means well, though. I've learnt so much bein' 'round her already."
"Daresay you could pick worse role models." Rastellion smiles and then shivers slightly. "Now, we ought to be able to find some hot stew or the like around here, don't you think?" Immalaine looks around, lifting her nose to sniff the air, though the bite of the wind leaves her unable to smell much. "There must be something, surely. I'll follow ye an' we'll go look."
Rastellion looks around the festive city center for a few moments, then spots servers with plates of moving around on the lower tier, serving patrons at the various tables scattered around the central square. "There,"he says, pointing. "That looks promising." and starts down the short flight of stairs, with Immalaine following closely behind, to a table in the corner, and sits himself down onto the bench, as she settles in beside him. "You've a good eye," she says, looking over at the people moving around. Rastellion waves one of the servers over and soon a large bowl of soup, a loaf of fresh bread, and a mug of mulled winterberry cider is put down in front of each of them.
Immalaine reaches down to take a bite of soup, before hearing the man nearby complain that he's hungry. She pauses, looking up the stairs as an expression of sadness fills her eyes as she sees some of the town's poorer citizens. "Seems there must be some way t' help folk so they're not hungry or cold," she murmurs, before taking a bite of her stew.
"I suppose it's up to the locals, to see to their own, most days," he replies. "Not much we visitors can do, 'cept maybe give a coin or two that'll be gone before we are." Immalaine nods. "Well, th' rumors I heard 'bout th' mayor here don't sound promisin'" she said with a frown, as she breaks off a piece of bread and dipped it into her stew.
Rastellion likewise uses pieces from his warm loaf to eat up his own stew before it gets cool in the frosty air. He shrugs. "Well, he's a politician. Doubt there's anything promisin' to be said about him, unless it's promisin selfishness and corruption. Same as back in Bree, though by all accounts our fellow's not as bad as some."
Immalaine shrugs and sighs, as she eats what she can of her stew and bread, before turning to pick up her mug of ale. "Still, ye'd think they'd be wantin' people t' be happy an' well-fed, else they ain't gone be no good at workin' an' makin' their towns better." She bows her head, sipping her ale, realizing she's being idealistic.
Rastellion nods. "It's a nice thought.. Just don't go expectin' a politician to solve such problems. Ask a politician to feed the hungry an' all you get is fat politicians!"
Immalaine nods, as she realizes Rastellion is right. "Well, I'm thinkin' like a farmgirl I guess. Tends t' be our job t' feed people."
Rastellion chuckles. "Well, seems they've got plenty of food here; and for what they're charging us for it, I expect they'll be able to afford feeding every townsman for the rest of the year, once the festival is done!"
Immalaine looks around and nods. "Well, they've certainly gotten plenty o' coin from us already, an' we've barely been here a couple o' hours now." She turns to brush her lips against his cheek. "Still, is worth it t' come see th' sights."
"That it is." Rastellion glances up at the clock-tower and swears quietly. "And we've got all of ten minutes to get back, now, if our landlady's threats are to be believed!" Immalaine looks over and nods, turning to Rastellion. "We'd best get goin' then, I'd not want t' be sleepin' out in this weather."
Rastellion stands and offers her a hand up. "No indeed. Even that lumpy bed will be better.... the only trick will be keeping you quiet!" He grins at her muffled squeal of indignant protest, and then the two head back to their temporary lodgings, arm in arm.
(Credits and love go to Rastellion, who provided the voice of the male characters in this story. *Blows kisses to Rastellion and grins widely*)
