Rose Quartz--Exploratory Vignette

A simple story following a slice of a traveling woman's journey.

She walked under the flawed marble arch into the courtyard. It was relatively sealed off from society, with it's overgrown terraced windows abandoned long ago and reaching high into the sky. Iron-wrought crosshatch plates managed to cover most of the top of the yard, giving the appearance of an enclosed space due to the climbing vines. The makeshift ceiling, though, did little to stop the drizzling rain; the drops only stopped momentarily to grip the luscious leaves before falling to the stone center. The yard held a grand history, rich with flowers and meetings and kind picnics. Today, it held cloudy mist, spilled drinks, and joyous chatter. The silken green dresses of old were no longer a regular sight; no, today there was an abundance of sturdy leather and scathed skin. The rugged appearance of the attenders did not fit their carefree smiles. It was intriguing to her; all the same, though, she invited it in with a smile of her own. It was familiar, and, however inelegant, comfortable. These people transcended their scars with an air that made each scrape and worn pouch filled with adventure and discovery. They were rebels, risk-takers, explorers. They were her kind, though not by blood.

She reached another set of broken arches, restored only enough to hold the overhang in place. Beneath the arches was a pocket of stone; a small surrounded haven housing a large desk, shelves, and a burly bartender. He was just as he looks hinted--brutal and animalistic. Nothing about him was sweet in the least, and it was his very stoic nature that kept him from being something to fully fear. It downplayed him into simple intimidation. Yet she was unafraid. He was a friend to her. Time had brought them together. She stepped up to the counter, intruding upon his focused polishing of a mug, and leaned casually on her elbows. The freshly cleaned countertop was warm to the touch as it met her skin. He looked up, unamused at first, but softening when recognizing her. It had been awhile, so the pleasantries were inviting and kind. They spoke awhile, and she took a seat, and after some time raised a question rather nonchalantly. He caught her motive right away, carefully shying from the conversation, but she persisted to press the matter. She was looking for something. And she knew this bartender heard enough in the area to answer her desperate inquiries. Her hunch had a habit of being very inconsistently correct, but she tended to follow her goal closely. If this meant some prodding, so be it.

He finally caved to her wishes, lowly revealing the slices of intel she so dearly craved. It wasn't much, but enough for her to patch her wonderings together. She thanked him, finishing a glass of a signature warm drink, and stood to leave, sliding the stool she was on away. It had been flattened after years of use, but it was still the same chipped chair she had befriended long ago.

It was time to leave the dimly lit piece of green paradise and continue her grand journey. There was a hidden island city to the north; that was where she intended to go. Legend had it that it shone like gold in the morning light, and like bronze in the evening. A city of riches and petite frame. Exiting the tavern, she looked north over the cliff face, the billowing trees hanging low over her vision. The mountains peeked in a maze of fjords and hidden lakes, marked about by jutting pinnacles. She sighed. Yes, that's where she would take to. Now all she had to do was find a rather trustworthy crew.

The crew she found was surprisingly good. The salty mist played with her blouse and loose hair, lightening as the day rose into being. Among the masts and sharpened harpoons, she was a gem among shining silver. The ship sailed with ease, floating just above the raging rivers, dropping some feet as the white waters calmed to blue. Years ago, she had given up silk for a greater age of discovery. Her stomach tied with leather and lace, this was her world now. The unspoken, the mysterious, the new. It refreshed her mind. Even the sickening solution in the air was sweet to her lips. She breathed a hint of mist, displacing that around her with something a little more white. It sucked up the air, twisting it to nothingness and sending it into small chaos. She pulled her hair away from her face, moving to join the crew at the ship's elevated regions. Morning was breaking, and the city was near. She wanted to see it for herself.

Touchdown was far more lovely than even the sight from afar. With permission, she did not waste time getting to shore, skipping past boxes and crates of the loading docks and onto the soil of the island. It may have been her imagination, but it did seem to reflect a crystal gold under the early sunlight. Even through her sandals the warmth soaked into feet. The city was already buzzing, a murmur of voices and swishing foliage caressing the slight breeze. The island was tiny; walkable in under an hour. It provided her with strange and exotic scents, sights, and sounds. Bright flowers exploded around her as she walked into the bustling plaza, taking in the strumming of humming chords and chorus of sweet air. A trading town. And from it, she could spot a higher village, deep in the recesses of the low-hanging clouds, up on the mountainside. It wound around the slabs and caves, build on rocks and terraces, lit by flickering golden lights and occasional sparks of color. The village of goats, as it was often called informally. Her next destination. This beautiful island was only a segway to it.

A crew member, possibly even a pirate by the looks of the weighted rock chunks laced to his neck, drew to her stopped side by the central fountain in the docking plaza. She looked to him, aware that he was a familiar face, but realizing she had not interacted with him on the ship the entire way here. The hired group had accepted her skills to assist on the way there in return for the ride, and she had not bothered to make friends, as the night wore on throughout their travels, leaving them too exhausted for pleasantries. With the freshly rising sun, though, she was energized once more, and it seemed the pirate was, too.

He looked back at her, and down at her--kindly and calmly. He was interesting to gaze upon, with his white hair nearly a perfect match to the rushing rivers, and his clear eyes and skin bright with health. His eyes drew hers in, their light and watery clarity chilled but inviting. He was confident in posture, decked also in white and leather, equipped with everything a traveler may need and then some. He stood with his hands on his hips, almost as if waiting for her to speak first, though it seemed he wished to say something, also. She waited. He spoke, commenting on the island and the trip there, introducing himself indirectly as an experienced rogue with a thirst for adventure. She admired him almost right away, wondering why she hadn't been this intrigued earlier on. They struck up a nice conversation, happening to draw away from the fountain and investigate some rare fruit casually at the market stands nearby. He was a strong personality; this she got right away; but he was keeping it under control in the name of politeness and courtesy. She was a dreamer herself, and the wild spirit within him kept her talking and listening. He drew her in with that piercing and icy gaze of his, complete with the warmth of summer and taste of winter. She could not escape it, and ended up asking him to join her on the trek to the village on the mountain. He happily agreed, and they arranged for a time in the early morning the next day to go. Today, they would collect supplies and continue to get to know one another.

She drew her hood around her cheeks. The morning was cold, the sun not quite awake yet. She held a bag around her shoulders, the canvas rough but strong, and she gripped the fabric with sliding fingers. Muscles strained, and she was fighting shivers, but kept stepping up the slippery rocks all the same. They were smooth stones; dark gray and settled in a forgotten sleep, kissed gently by the constant mist and rain. Her footsteps were not alone. Another pair, longer in stride and far more balanced, shadowed hers. Speaking was unfitting in such a circumstance, as the clicking of raindrops on the rock and the rustling of ferns and clouds took the speech from their lips. It was also untimely, as there was nothing for them to say at this time in the morning. The fogginess still in her mind prevented her from uttering coherent words at this point. So they trekked on, in comfortable silence, each step drawing them higher and closer to the village of goats.

It was a rigorous path, but they soon made it to more level ground--what looked like a cleared path of sorts. Following it, it grew wider and smoother, and soon, hugged the side of the gray cliffs as it wound close to the dreary rock. Spots of light entered her vision, and grew into forms, morphing into homes as they drew closer. The village of goats was an uneven and choppy etching in the mountainside, with no real plan of design. Instead, it used every nook for it's advantage, sporting oddly-shaped houses and shops, occasionally ducking onto large terraces. Dim flamelight flickered in some splotchy windows, appearing more often as they walked in awe through the small village. Finally, a hint of life appeared. A woman, elderly, exited from a creaky door. Her hair was softly white like the male of the pair, and she wore a kindly smile and round body. She beckoned them inside, inviting the two travelers in for warm tea and friendly discussion. They accepted gratefully, their feet worn and tired from the difficult hike. She served them steaming mugs of fruity flavors, interested in their visit and sitting to listen to their tale. She soaked in their every word with wonder and contentment, happy to have the young pair in her company. The discussion went on, the girl explaining her trip thus far, and the boy explaining his part in it, until the tea ran out and their feet were not throbbing anymore. The woman sent them on their way again, with fresh tea packets for a relaxed picnic later on, as she said. They waved their goodbyes, and the two moved forward until they reached a certain house.

It was perched on the mountainside, glass stained with faded colors and interesting shapes. They stopped to knock at the girl's instruction. She knew, just by it's appearance, this was the house she was seeking after. It was not the end of her journey, not by any means, but it fit the exact image from the stories her father and uncle used to tell her.

An elderly male this time opened the door. They were again ushered in warmly, and the girl gratefully sank down into the fluffy rugs near the old man's hearth. She ran her fingers across the snowy cushion, enjoying the feel and reminiscing stories. She repeated these out loud to the man, and he received them with great enthusiasm, tuning in and adding his own stories to parallel hers. Her spirits were high; this did seem to be the very place her father and uncle told her about. His stories matched hers. They sat and talked awhile, and she finally brought up the questions, similar to those she had been asking before, and unlike her brutal bartender friend, the elderly man answered them freely and with wisdom. She sponged in his words, pinning them forcefully into her memory as his flowing voice trailed over information and tales she had been longing to hear of. When he had expended his vast array of knowledge, she thanked him, offering to return later and reiterate future events to him. He was pleased with this, and she was also, though later she would find he could not be there to open the door next time she returned. For now, though, she had renewed strength and hope, and an even greater drive of excitement, and she all but scampered out the door gleefully with the pirate on her heels. They traversed away from the village, heading farther north and upward, passing several classic goats on their way; experiencing the cause of the village's name.

Their journey had been altered even further north now, and they went on with hope in their hearts and fascination in their souls.

Author's Note

Just a bit of something I never really finished. Any ideas where they should go next?