It was a pretty typical morning in the Quick Sand, to those accustomed to it. The morning crowd was vastly different from that which would stop by later in the day. A handful of advenuterers were always present, but the tables filled with workmen and traders looking for a bright start to their morning routines. The heady fragrance of richly roasted coffee always hangs in the air, while the clatter of plates and silverware being collected from the morning breakfast mingled with the subtle, plaintive plucks of a sitar; a journeyman bard just warming up his instrument. Â
At the bar sat one of the Quick Sand's most common, and memorable sights. Momodi's prize Ishgardian barmaid, the towering blonde with the bright smile, and the sweet, cheerful voice. Not exactly a morning person, the height of summer nonetheless drew her out early before the high morning sun could burn the sandstone brick of her south-facing room into a scorching oven. Â
She stabbed distractedly at the plate before her, fork mixing the soft yolk of an egg that joined a piece of abandoned, half-eaten toast, while the apron-donning man across the bar from her kept her attention with chit-chat. Jericho the cook, one of Aya's co-workers stealing a momentary break from the bleak duties of the morning shift.
"I'd bettah be gettin' back ta the back 'fore Momodi notices I've gone, huh?" he complained with the grudging brogue of a native Highlander.
"I think its already too late..." came the half-startled reply of Aya's in her notably Ishgardian-accented voice, her wide-eyes suddenly fixed upon the image of a glaring Lalafellan proprietress. Â
"Oh, aye Ma'am, I'm on mae way!" He turned, tossing the hand cloth over his shoulder as he trudged back into the kitchen. The proprietress' stern gaze moved to the off-shift barmaid, her slightly twisted-up lips expressing her displeasure; Aya always seemed to be causing trouble!
Aya let out the softest sigh, accompanied with a slight shrug of her shoulders as she shook her head slowly. A motion interrupted as her eyes caught the Lalafel approaching the stool next to her.
At the bar sat one of the Quick Sand's most common, and memorable sights. Momodi's prize Ishgardian barmaid, the towering blonde with the bright smile, and the sweet, cheerful voice. Not exactly a morning person, the height of summer nonetheless drew her out early before the high morning sun could burn the sandstone brick of her south-facing room into a scorching oven. Â
She stabbed distractedly at the plate before her, fork mixing the soft yolk of an egg that joined a piece of abandoned, half-eaten toast, while the apron-donning man across the bar from her kept her attention with chit-chat. Jericho the cook, one of Aya's co-workers stealing a momentary break from the bleak duties of the morning shift.
"I'd bettah be gettin' back ta the back 'fore Momodi notices I've gone, huh?" he complained with the grudging brogue of a native Highlander.
"I think its already too late..." came the half-startled reply of Aya's in her notably Ishgardian-accented voice, her wide-eyes suddenly fixed upon the image of a glaring Lalafellan proprietress. Â
"Oh, aye Ma'am, I'm on mae way!" He turned, tossing the hand cloth over his shoulder as he trudged back into the kitchen. The proprietress' stern gaze moved to the off-shift barmaid, her slightly twisted-up lips expressing her displeasure; Aya always seemed to be causing trouble!
Aya let out the softest sigh, accompanied with a slight shrug of her shoulders as she shook her head slowly. A motion interrupted as her eyes caught the Lalafel approaching the stool next to her.
![[Image: 21282370099_a814a08664_o.png]](https://farm1.staticflickr.com/590/21282370099_a814a08664_o.png)
