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- Joined
- Sep 7, 2019
- Location
- Jurassic Park
Thursday, August 11th, 1892
As usual, Caroline Frederikke Nilssen was early to arrive this morning, even for the other retailers at Buttress by the Bricks, one of several Buttress semi-enclosed marketplaces in the Bardor (formerly Hollow Bend) district of Radiant City, the Empire of Caledoria’s densely packed, steam-choked capital city. This one, naturally, supporting the weight of The Bricks, an old brick factory converted into one of the largest tenement complexes in the city.
It was quite bright out thanks to an early rise by the dwarf sun Daughter Luminas creating what was known as a blue light day, but also raining as tended to happen all across Caledoria at around 6 AM.
Caroline didn’t mind, though, as she liked running this early to wake herself up; perhaps getting breakfast at Condemned Coffee, named after the Condemned Quarter of desert near Sudavadir whose oases grew high quality coca beans, although she wasn’t feeling hungry or in need of caffeine yet; and being able to freely use a small warding spell to shield herself from the rain, one of the few times she could reveal even a hint of her elvish heritage.
Plus, she got to have extra time to get all the delicate potions, poultices, home remedies and other medicines lining the shelves of Caroline’s CareStation ready, and more importantly be the person to greet Serra whenever she arrived before the complex’s opening time of 8 AM to open her neighboring habadashery. That tended to vary, but Caroline never asked why. In any event, the nurse liked talking to all the other retailers (and it helped that none competed with her), but even just a single minute of small talk passed back and forth between her and the dark elf (which was usually what they shared for the whole day) was more than enough to brighten her day. The only exception was the rare instance Serra injured herself on the job and needed patching up, which were usually banner days for Caroline.
The dark elf was stunning, of course, but that was why Caroline didn’t talk to her much. Apart from the woman that Caroline would be called a dirty clamdigger for even breathing on too hard, a few regular customers, and the occasional courtesan, however, she didn’t have acquaintances in this city, much less friends. Although she liked the rare moments of quiet in such a loud city, there were random mornings, like this one, that she missed her parents.
They had, after all, emigrated over here on Foundation Day of 1891 (January 1st, so more than a year and a half ago, she now realized with some dismay!) to support her crazy dream of benefitting a wider public with their family’s medical knowledge and ancient recipes. Her elvish mother had contracted and died of black fever on the long, rough airship trip over from Raeybek, while her human father had been killed on March 26th, 1891 by a gang of elves who’d assumed he was her lecherous human defiler rather than her father. To even think of their names now would make her conjure the day her mother was dropped over the side like so much trash, or her father had to be buried in an unmarked grave in the Radiant Public Graveyard west of town because she couldn’t afford a private plot, and then she would cry her eyes out, even now.
Her patients didn’t need that. They had enough troubles of their own, and she was here to smile with her eyes over her licensed nurse’s crow mask as she healed them, not burden anyone further. That was what the flirtatious barmaids at the Terminal 1 Pub down the street and the more than flirtatious ladies of the night were for.
In any event, once her father left her all alone, she’d gone to an underworld hacksaw to get painful ear shaving that would file down the distinctive elvish points at the top of her ears. Sometimes she’d rub them when they still stung, months later, baffling all the free clinic physicians she’d seen. More often, she’d make sure her long blonde hair covered them from sight, and then stare blankly into the gloomy streets.
As she did now while waiting for Serra to show.
As usual, Caroline Frederikke Nilssen was early to arrive this morning, even for the other retailers at Buttress by the Bricks, one of several Buttress semi-enclosed marketplaces in the Bardor (formerly Hollow Bend) district of Radiant City, the Empire of Caledoria’s densely packed, steam-choked capital city. This one, naturally, supporting the weight of The Bricks, an old brick factory converted into one of the largest tenement complexes in the city.
It was quite bright out thanks to an early rise by the dwarf sun Daughter Luminas creating what was known as a blue light day, but also raining as tended to happen all across Caledoria at around 6 AM.
Caroline didn’t mind, though, as she liked running this early to wake herself up; perhaps getting breakfast at Condemned Coffee, named after the Condemned Quarter of desert near Sudavadir whose oases grew high quality coca beans, although she wasn’t feeling hungry or in need of caffeine yet; and being able to freely use a small warding spell to shield herself from the rain, one of the few times she could reveal even a hint of her elvish heritage.
Plus, she got to have extra time to get all the delicate potions, poultices, home remedies and other medicines lining the shelves of Caroline’s CareStation ready, and more importantly be the person to greet Serra whenever she arrived before the complex’s opening time of 8 AM to open her neighboring habadashery. That tended to vary, but Caroline never asked why. In any event, the nurse liked talking to all the other retailers (and it helped that none competed with her), but even just a single minute of small talk passed back and forth between her and the dark elf (which was usually what they shared for the whole day) was more than enough to brighten her day. The only exception was the rare instance Serra injured herself on the job and needed patching up, which were usually banner days for Caroline.
The dark elf was stunning, of course, but that was why Caroline didn’t talk to her much. Apart from the woman that Caroline would be called a dirty clamdigger for even breathing on too hard, a few regular customers, and the occasional courtesan, however, she didn’t have acquaintances in this city, much less friends. Although she liked the rare moments of quiet in such a loud city, there were random mornings, like this one, that she missed her parents.
They had, after all, emigrated over here on Foundation Day of 1891 (January 1st, so more than a year and a half ago, she now realized with some dismay!) to support her crazy dream of benefitting a wider public with their family’s medical knowledge and ancient recipes. Her elvish mother had contracted and died of black fever on the long, rough airship trip over from Raeybek, while her human father had been killed on March 26th, 1891 by a gang of elves who’d assumed he was her lecherous human defiler rather than her father. To even think of their names now would make her conjure the day her mother was dropped over the side like so much trash, or her father had to be buried in an unmarked grave in the Radiant Public Graveyard west of town because she couldn’t afford a private plot, and then she would cry her eyes out, even now.
Her patients didn’t need that. They had enough troubles of their own, and she was here to smile with her eyes over her licensed nurse’s crow mask as she healed them, not burden anyone further. That was what the flirtatious barmaids at the Terminal 1 Pub down the street and the more than flirtatious ladies of the night were for.
In any event, once her father left her all alone, she’d gone to an underworld hacksaw to get painful ear shaving that would file down the distinctive elvish points at the top of her ears. Sometimes she’d rub them when they still stung, months later, baffling all the free clinic physicians she’d seen. More often, she’d make sure her long blonde hair covered them from sight, and then stare blankly into the gloomy streets.
As she did now while waiting for Serra to show.