*I'm gonna marysue the hell out of this and bring in all sort of hollywood falseness*
It was festival time and so they came. The caravan's painted and decorated wooden shells creaked, but they kept out the rain and snow. Her brother was restless and snappy.
"Hush, I am tired of hearing you complain. Go bed Alyona again and work out all that grumpiness. I need you in a good mood when it is time to perform."
Andrei grinned wolflishly at Serah and disappeared, leaving her to hang the silk scarves and other goods they would sell. Serah snorted and muttered to herself.
They were distant relations to the current clan, but had not sworn the blood oath to Zhaltev. No, the Rostislav family were fierce and free, and that was the way the liked it. BUT, that did not mean, when they were summoned to Zhaltev they could afford to ignore the summons.
And, so, here they were. A stall was set-up with a variety of wares. Grandpapa, wrinkled like a prune, kept a sharp eye out for anyone who might think to steal.
"Go to the market. We need salt, vegetables, and a chicken."
Serah smiled at her Grandpapa and gave him a kiss on the top of his head, before holding out her hand. Grandpapa scowled, but his eyes twinkled as he placed Zhaltevian coins in her palm.
"Don't forget to argue. You know they'll charge you more because we aren't from the city, bah!" Grandpapa spat at the ground, though he was so old and dry nothing came out. "Ppt! Ppt!"
For now, Serah was dressed as modestly as any young woman would, though the modest design did little to hide the roundness of her hip and bust. Later, she would go out with her brother and drum up business for their performance.
"Where's that Andrei? He should accompany his sister!"
"I can handle myself, Grandpapa. Don't worry! I am Rostislav, no?" Serah bared a set of white, strong teeth whose canines bore a hint of a point.
"BAH!" Her grandfather waved her off with a scoff. "Just go and hurry back." He reached for his violin and checked it over lovingly as he watched her walk away.
"It's your fault she looks like that, Veronika!"
Veronika laughed loudly. "You didn't have a problem with the way I used to look, Viktor. If I recall, you couldn't keep your paws off me! Andrei gets that from you, you know!" The pair were old, but still loved each other deeply.
Sunlight glistened on Serah's black hair, which had been plaited in a long, thick rope that hung over her shoulder. The basket rested on her hip as she moved from stall to stall, picking up this vegetable, that fruit. Her eyes were dark, too, a dark, dark brown. Serah carried herself well. Her back was straight and her hips swayed when she walked with sure steps through the market. She let her nose do most of the selecting. Once she'd selected the vegetables, next was finding the salt and the chickens. The chickens were the easiest to find with their squawking and flutter of noise. Though tasty, she dislike dealing with them. She'd save that until last.
Now... to find the salt seller.