As I left the shop, I headed to another one, just next door. This one seemed specialized in outerwear, suited for the harsh conditions of the demonic continent.
I crossed the threshold, and a woman welcomed me with a smile. Her gaze was piercing, but there was warmth in her welcome that contrasted with the harshness of the outside world.
She greeted me politely, and I replied in kind, before letting Lysara take the lead. She needed to find a new outfit to replace her damaged kimono, which was a bit too worn out to withstand the rigors of travel.
I sat on a bench near the entrance, patiently waiting for her to find what she needed. The shelves were full of durable clothing, tailored for the trials of the desert and barren lands.
She said nothing, but her fingers brushed the fabrics more slowly than usual. A timid, almost intimate touch. As if she were looking not for clothing, but for a second skin in which she could feel less… foreign.
