There are ways to make his own life easier and run the gamut between the benign and unwise to the monstrously wicked. Instead of working the sorts of jobs that pay little and demand much, just barely scraping by, Riku could probably put both his literacy and magic to good and potentially lucrative use. But he's trying to feel people out, trying to get a read on their situation and the local culture without drawing too much attention to himself as an outsider.
He still remembers, after all, that slumbering city of bells, that hateful old man with the dark heart who violently despised people who were different from his own sort. Riku wouldn't put it past anyone to try dragging him into a city square to burn him alive for getting caught casting Cure. He doesn't yet know how receptive people around here might be to magic, or the existence of other worlds for that matter.
Riku still has munny and hasn't tried spending it yet, saving it in case he needs it for something he can't just work off the way he can a meal or permission to sleep in the stable. He's got several reasons for being so thrifty. He doesn't plan to stay long. And if he's to go anywhere, he'll need a means of transportation and portable shelter, tools and, ideally, a reliable map of the area.
But his plans, such as they are, are nebulous, barely formed ideas. He hasn't decided on any concrete path but the one that sees him through another day, and perhaps slowly adds to the weight in his pocket.
The street is less bustling than it will be later, when the market will close up in time for a sunset ride back to homesteads and workshops, when laborers and wanderers will file into the taverns until they're bursting with noise. Riku has been offered a paltry sum to unload a cart of barrels reeking of hops into the nearby tavern, a task he's dubiously trusted to perform in a blindfold.
It takes time. He's sweating in his "borrowed" cloak, he hasn't been able to procure clothing that would draw fewer stares just yet, and once he's finished, he takes his pay and searches for shade. There's a good spot around here, he recalls, just around the corner...
Except there's someone there already. He can sense their presence, even if the blindfold conceals them, but there's something else, too. Something that wraps tight around his chest like an iron band, that summons his heartbeat into his throat and shortens his breath. He overdid it, he thinks.
"Hey," he says, "You're in my--"
Riku's head snaps up. No, that light... it's too familiar, too dazzling. But that's not possible, because--
no subject
He still remembers, after all, that slumbering city of bells, that hateful old man with the dark heart who violently despised people who were different from his own sort. Riku wouldn't put it past anyone to try dragging him into a city square to burn him alive for getting caught casting Cure. He doesn't yet know how receptive people around here might be to magic, or the existence of other worlds for that matter.
Riku still has munny and hasn't tried spending it yet, saving it in case he needs it for something he can't just work off the way he can a meal or permission to sleep in the stable. He's got several reasons for being so thrifty. He doesn't plan to stay long. And if he's to go anywhere, he'll need a means of transportation and portable shelter, tools and, ideally, a reliable map of the area.
But his plans, such as they are, are nebulous, barely formed ideas. He hasn't decided on any concrete path but the one that sees him through another day, and perhaps slowly adds to the weight in his pocket.
The street is less bustling than it will be later, when the market will close up in time for a sunset ride back to homesteads and workshops, when laborers and wanderers will file into the taverns until they're bursting with noise. Riku has been offered a paltry sum to unload a cart of barrels reeking of hops into the nearby tavern, a task he's dubiously trusted to perform in a blindfold.
It takes time. He's sweating in his "borrowed" cloak, he hasn't been able to procure clothing that would draw fewer stares just yet, and once he's finished, he takes his pay and searches for shade. There's a good spot around here, he recalls, just around the corner...
Except there's someone there already. He can sense their presence, even if the blindfold conceals them, but there's something else, too. Something that wraps tight around his chest like an iron band, that summons his heartbeat into his throat and shortens his breath. He overdid it, he thinks.
"Hey," he says, "You're in my--"
Riku's head snaps up. No, that light... it's too familiar, too dazzling. But that's not possible, because--
"S..."
Because he lost him, he lost both of them.
"Sora..?"