From atop her chair, Thrasja forks rags into holes, monkeying the cloth about to hold. ‘Tis dank like the wharf, though without violin-prowed fishing skiffs.
Just a candle in a half-bottle – the glassier’s gift – and Northman poorbread – cookie – alongside Ranilo’s fare.
Audila returns soaked, golden locks sheeting about his face, but he grins a moon, raises a bright bottle. Could be crystal, so fine it seems. The scent...
“Perfume?” she says. “For me?” Audila nods, withdrawing this morn’s money. Though unlettered, she knows it won’t buy an oxtail. But perfume… she grips her pendant prayerfully: they’ll stay housed next month.
Prompt: bottle, wharf, violin, moon, monkey, fork, hole, lock, sheet, pendant, crystal, cookie, letter, tail, money, chair, bread