misery business // ems
Sept 27, 2013 17:24:20 GMT -5
Post by Onyx on Sept 27, 2013 17:24:20 GMT -5
There are only two occasions when I leave the theatre during my lunch break. The first is a family – that is, the Morenos, my famously high-drama adopted family – emergency, and the second is a supply run. Fortunately, today’s the latter. A family emergency in my house usually means that a child is dead or nearly dead, and the rest of us are forced by school and work to take time off to be with them. It’s not like any of us really love each other, anyway.
The route from Tanami Theatre to the market square where I buy lime for the spotlights or simple make-up kits is long and winding for people who only travel conventionally. However, I know how to tell a strong rooftop from a weak one, and the most balanced way to traverse a gutter, and so taking a shortcut (and enjoying the view of the District sprawled out below me)[/color] is never a problem. I’m wearing grippy lace-ups, an adoption gift from
It’s true that I could afford much better supplies than the ones I buy here, with the generous allowance that my new parents give me. Somehow, though, it just feels wrong. The garish gobos would be out of place in our old-fashioned theatre, and I’m not sure the generator could take bulbs any more powerful than the ones we use now. Besides, I get nostalgic.[/color] I still take my battered old briefcase with me when the troupe travel on overnight trips, and I much prefer reading by lanternlight than by the glaring bed lamps in the Moreno house. So, habit brings me back time and time again to this old row of stalls, selling their arts-and-crafts to regular customers who, like me, are in denial of the modern era.
The market works like this: customers move around in a clockwise direction, up on the left and down on the right. There are no rules, or Peacekeepers, to enforce this, but everyone has a mutual understanding that this way everyone can get what they need without being crushed. The first part of the market is generally handmade items; jewellery, cards, ornaments – things which might take the fancy of a small child out with their mother. They sell well, generally, but only with patience and skill. Next to this comes pots of herbs or spices, things that people grow in their gardens for leisure, rather than because they need the profit. Further down the strip, more factory products begin to appear, amateur offerings giving way to bulk orders and large prices. It’s not what you’d expect in a market, but it’s not extraordinary. Perhaps, in lower, less fortunate Districts, there’s a big divide between what’s sold in stores and what’s sold on the streets. However, because One is so well-off anyway, markets are just a way of buying the same items in the fresh air. Granted, it’s traditional to set up your own stall here when you don’t have the volume or money to create a business, but many of the items at the far end of the circuit are sold for similar prices to what they are in more sophisticated areas of town.
What I’m looking for – packs of coloured light gels – are sold in the middle of the market, where handmade items begin to blend into industrial ones. The man who makes them, with materials from factories composed by hand, and I are familiar, and he usually discounts me when I make large orders. Seeing me approach, art of a huge circuit of otherwise uninterested consumers, his face breaks into a smile. “Rory,” he greets me warmly, producing the parcel that I’ve been expecting. I open it eagerly, retrieving and counting the gels inside. Eight cyan, six purple and twelve as orange as my hair.[/color] Grinning my approval, I hastily hand over my money and rejoin the circulating throng of people, giving him a friendly wave as I go.
I’m still looking at the gels, watching as they cast translucent, coloured shadows onto the ground, when a sudden impact into my chest takes me by surprise. Suddenly, I’m sprawled on the floor, the gels scattered next to me, trying to regain my breath and sit back up. Jeez, whatever that was hit me hard.[/color] I’m aware that the rotation has started up again, bypassing me and what I now see is another person, the cause of my fall. I’m usually so balanced, my reflexes so quick.[/color] It could only take something totally abnormal to topple me like that.
“Watch it, idiot!” I hurl at the slumped figure in front of me as I begin to collect the gels back up, blowing the dust off them, “can’t you see there’s a direction here?” Rolling my eyes, I perform the courtesy of holding out a hand to help the stranger up. I can only hope they’re not going to waste any more of my time.[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify]
ooc: is this true? onyx made a post?!
