solis | svt au

Them

The boy sits at the old counter, worn smooth by generations of shop owners. His finger trace the familiar trail of wood grains as he waits, lost in thought, for customers. The bell hanging from the door tinkles as someone walks in, and he looks up with a ready smile.

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The boy stands at the ship wheel, handling it with the familiarity of experience. His eyes glint gold as he looks out at the horizon. He is free, the wind blowing through his hair, ruffling it into a tousled mess. He laughs with the sheer joy of it all, and the purple sails billow.

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The tavern is loud, full of the sounds of raucous laughter, clinking of jugs, and drunk singing. The boy refills customer's drinks before they even think of asking for more. He carries a platter of food and drink, making easy conversation with everyone, smile brightening the room.

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The prince sits in his elaborately decorated room, his bed neatly made. He sighs wistfully, head leaning on his palm as he stares out the window, at the endless horizon of miniscule buildings and mist-covered mountains. He stares out at the world he longs to explore.

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The cat lays in the sun on a bed of coiled rope. The harbor rings with the shrieks of seagulls and the calls of fishermen and traders. He yawns, showing his teeth, eyes squinting, as he watches the bustle of activity. His ears flicks at the constant flies, and his tail lazily swings back and forth.

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The pawnshop is quiet, the day's usual customers coming and going, whispering their transactions. Gold and silver. Silver and gold. That's all his life is. Someone enters, bearing an old book with ancient carvings. He has an offer ready before they reach the counter. 

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His instruments lie, carefully wrapped and placed in their respective cases. They're of good quality, each looked after with great care. He takes the lute out, delicately playing the opening notes of a song. His voice is clear and smooth. His audiences recognize the tune, and they cheer.

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The apothecary smells of fresh herbs, drying herbs, books, and comfort. A boy sits at a table, scribbling notes from a large book by his side, tongue sticking out with concentration. Sunlight streams from a window, making the room glow, and there is warmth.

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The boy sits in his cabin, documenting the ship's supplies. He writes with careful precision, making notes and marking mistakes. An ever-present cup of coffee lets out a small spiral of steam. The ship rocks back and forth like a lullaby, and it's calm.

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The boy leans against his tree, a single flower artfully placed behind one ear. He looks at his sketchbook, filled with detailed sketches of the forest he lives in before flipping to an incomplete drawing. He hums to a bird's song, and the tree gently sways with the wind.

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The boy wipes energetically at a table, making sure to scrub every last inch. Customers coming in greet him by name and he smiles and waves back. He brings instant cheer to those around him, effortlessly making conversation. The atmosphere of the inn is a welcome one.

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The boy stares at the map, studying the familiar features that he had long memorized. His missions were simple and paid well. Letting out a content sigh, he starts to neatly put tools and weapons into a bag. He would leave soon, and it was always good to prepare beforehand.

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The apothecary is silent and has been for a long time. The boy sits at a nearby table, holding back a yawn. He looks with dull eyes at the ceiling, tired of the confinement, longing for freedom of any kind. Longing for a chance to prove himself to the world.

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Sorry for the bad quality writing - I tried my best :)