Her parents deal in dyes and clothing, but the business was in decline for them even before she was born, caused by bad investments. She never saw hunger per se, but she is confortable with meager means. Born in the Free Trade State of Sutica, in the realm of Arcas, she didnt know what to expect when the great migration to Almaris happened, but knowing the sea would still be by her side, she didnt feel lost. Shortly after seeing her family settle in the new continent, she was old enough to start her own journey, sealing her own adulthood by getting a big tattoo of the same pattern Makerels have, a painful endeavour, considering the only available tools for such a procedure are a pointy stick and a mallet, with crude inks. Her back ached for weeks, but the wise applications of her mother's honey(antiseptic), Serpent Stalk(for the cooling effect) and Gislocinovi (just a touch, for the antibacterial, to complement the honey) ointment, the big masterpiece sealed pretty well.
Since the means of the family werent always enough to purchase the necessary materials for the everyday life, she tried to pick up some fishing and general bushcraftery, with average results, enough to help her family get to the end of the week, and now in her new life, to not depend on the generosity of strangers too much. As of trade she inheited some knowledge of tinctures and dyes from the family trade, but her interest blossomed more toward the medicinal and scientific uses of such materials, that she will like to expand, possibly by becoming the apprentice of some scholar.
This goal is in tension with her strong pull toward the sea, and her desire of sail it, the endless horizon and starry skies a call she has never stopped hearing.
Aioun freezes, not expecting to any interaction at least until the bazaar itself. She inspects the well dressed gentleman, a merchant? Those tend to accost passer-bys to entice them to their wares. She isnt sure thats the explanation, also considering more nefarious reasons. ''Uh-'' SHe stutters, unsure.'' Adventure, i guess? '' Her arms are raised up to her chest, palms forward, taken by surprise. ''Are ye the owner of such bounty?'' She asks, gesticulating faintly toward the tents and goods behind him, trying to break the tension in such unbalanced conversation.
Recommended Comments