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(From here.)

The door he gallantly opened for her opened out into gently lapping waters, lit from overhead by a multitude of stars uncountable. So many together, they give off a glow stronger than the light of the full moon, singing softly of promised rest for those below. The insubstantial spirits of the dead rise from the waters, some quickly, eager for their eternal rest, and some slowly, fighting the pull even as they rise, foot by foot.

The two of them step down slightly into the water that only rises to their ankles, and Yrael closes the door behind them.

"As you can see," Yrael smiles. "I have been practicing even when not at the Milliways lake."

Despite the fact that the waters of Death aren't exactly the same as other water.

Current Mood: amused

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"Not at heart, no," Yrael says, cheerfully. Some time as they walked, his style of dress changed. Still all-white, but now of a finer, more archaic cut. He looks like he could be a foreign prince or noble, escorting a lady through the street of craftsmen and artificers.

The voices of the sellers mingle in proud declaration of the superiority of their wares, others mix with those of the buyers, deciding a price. A young boy runs past, grinning, to hide behind his mother's skirts and eat its stolen handful of figs.

"Lady! Pretty lady!" comes the voice of a merchant from Yrael and Rachel's right. A brave merchant, perhaps, willing to call to the rather odd pair. He holds up a length of fine cloth, smooth in its pattern of purples and blues with golden thread woven into a delicate swirls at the corners, a shawl or wrap to be fastened with a simple golden brooch. "Lady, would you honor a humble weaver and let him delight to see his work upon your shoulders? It is the finest of my works, and would do me proud to see it upon someone of your beauty."

Yrael's smile holds a trace of his smirk that could only been seen by those who know him. The merchant's wares, from the look of them, are out of the price range for most of the common villagers.

Rachel's attire did not shift and change, but her bearing did. The eye and mind tended to gloss over clothing when the woman wearing them could simply be regal, dancer like upon Yrael's arm.

And there were little things to handle, such as a few coins making it into the cash box of the fig seller after a child ran off, a thief or two stumbling and finding their targets out of reach, a particularly wealthy looking snot of a boy losing the expensive threading in his pants and money belt...

But the merchant, ah, the merchant managed to get her attention, though he paled slightly as Rachel's full gaze fell upon him, an emerald and depth to put any jewel to shame "Shall we?" she asked Yrael graciously.

His smile broadens as he inclines his white head in amused assent. "I do not see why not," Yrael says as they wander over.

The merchant may have gotten more than he had bargained for by calling himself to their attention, but he seems determined to do his best. "Ah, Lady, my poor establishment has never before been graced with such a divine presence as yours," he says, pale but smiling as he wonders where this obviously high-born pair hails from. His hands shake slightly as he spreads the beautiful cloth wrap between them. It falls in almost liquid folds of blue and purple, its edges shining. "This is my finest, see the tiny stitches of gold upon its edges, almost as beautiful as the Lady's eyes."

The merchant pauses, worried he might have overstepped his bounds and offended the Lady. One never knew with some nobles, after all. Some of them were downright weird.

Yrael just smiles quietly, listening. Secretly, he thinks the merchant is holding up admirably, poor fellow.

There was a chuckle, low and burning merrily as he commented on her eyes. Strange from a man who had yet to dare her gaze...but amusing. She freed a hand from Yrael's arm, gently stroking the finely woven fabric "Your wife does fine work" Rachel complimented.

Ah...had the poor merchant claimed it as his work? Well...no doubt they had their business reasons...

"It would make a fine gift" she continued, the words almost purred to Yrael. Yes, she was enjoying herself too.

The merchant splutters a bit, surprised and embarrassed at once. "Er, yes. My wife does all of our best works," he admits to perhaps cover up the previous error.

Yrael smiles, "Indeed, a fine gift for when we travel back to our homeland."

Ahah, the merchant thinks. Foreign nobles.

"Would you like to purchase it, my dear? I am sure this gentleman's prices are within reason."

"She is a worthy craftsman" Rachel admitted, the scarf now twining about her wrists sinuous as any snake "It is a shame that she may not sell her goods herself. Do tell the laws in this kingdom are kinder than the ones she fled when she married you yes?"

Then Rachel turned her head, taking that weighty gaze off the merchant to wink at Yrael "Oh I believe he will offer us an honest bargain" she agreed.

"She c-comes from Estwael, Lady. B-but uh-unfortunately, sh-she is out in the market, today. She w-w-will be fair d-disappointed to know she m-missed you," the merchant manages, sweat breaking out on his brow. He was not the young traveller he once had been.

Yrael's smile is more smirk for a moment. "How much for such a fine piece, good merchant?"

"Just be certain to tell her" Rachel replied lazily, turning back to the merchant, though the look this time was kinder. It would be pointless to give the man a heart attack after all...

She'd argue him out of such a steep discount as he was thinking though. It was fine craftsmanship after all.