Tiavara's blog

The mission was simple.  Then again, the other task was supposed to be simple too, so who could really say if it was simple or not?  They said it was to improve her; in Tiavara's opinion, it was just further punishment for messing up.  Her quiet footsteps stopped in front of a storefront at the far end of the Bazaar.  The ornate sign above the door loomed over her, its fancy gold plating a clear indicator of a place she did not belong.  Taking a deep breath in a vain attempt to settle her stomach, she stepped into Keelen's Trustworthy Tailoring.

The gut feeling she got at the door was almost immediately made an unquestionable fact as she eyed the assistant who was very clearly looking at her, or at least her threadbare, hand-me-down robes.  The slight trace of a sneer was replaced with a painted grin as she saw Tiavara's eyes on her.  The worker finished folding the fancy doily shirt on the table and called to the girl in a syrup-sweet voice, the kind used to hide something less savory, "Let me know if you need anything, sweetie."  And, without a second look, she left Tiavara to go into the back room.  Tiavara, meanwhile, stared at her shoes.  How was she supposed to do this?  On a mannequin display was the cloak she needed, the silken stitches so close, yet so out of reach.  Well, there wasn't any use standing about.  Pulling the silken curtains aside, she walked to the back of the store, following the stairs to an open, circular room.

"What do you think you're doing back here?"

Relax.

This would be easy.  Super-easy, even.  Nothing to it.  Just one vial into the other, no drips, nice and quick, like a bandage.  She checked the time.  It was still five minutes until it would be ready, about five seconds since the last time she'd checked.  Muscles clenched in her back, persistently reminding her that for the past hour, she had been sitting straight-backed in a wooden chair, huddled over a desk, watching two vials for the slightest hint of a color change.  Vial still clutched in hand, she rubbed the haze from her eyes before continuing her vigil.  Stilll blue..a little patch of sky in a bottle.  They looked almost pretty, illuminated by the lamp light.  If only the job that involved them wasn't so important.  She frowned at the little blue vials, accusingly.  So pleasant in its looks, but deep down, not nearly so good, like the sparkly city of Silvermoon or the stars who could afford houses named after seasons.  It made sense, that term, stars.  High, lofty, beautiful, sparkling, always looking down on everyone and nothing to give but their shine.  Tiavara decided then that she hated stars.

Purple!