The Falling Sun {Eden and Amitta 1x1}

[Amitta]

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To prosper and thrive. That was what drove the expansion of trade routes that would soon encompass much of India. The world's sudden passion for new spices and fabrics that were very valuable at home drove merchants to send off ships to new lands, hoping to increase their fortune. Soon, this trade became a large part of India, increasing the size and importance of these new trading markets to India itself.

This time of unmatched prosperity is made even more so by the youth and undeniable importance of the Sultan and his two sons. They are seen as the next youthful light to the land of India and are a match of promise to their people. There are tricks from all though-- some less expected then others--and it is only a matter of time before a web of lies, deceit, and forbidden romance encircle the prestigious pair.
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[Amitta]

αnαd míttαl

❣❣❣❣

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thє вαsícs

Name: Anad Mittal
Gender: Male
Age: 19
Occupation: Prince of India

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punítα αrun

❣❣❣❣

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thє вαsícs

Name: Punita Arun
Gender: Female
Age: 18
Occupation: Vendor

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[rosesgreedy]

ＩＤＲＩＳ ＪＡＶＥＤ ＭＩＴＴＡＬ

name;; idris javed mittal
nickname ;; none
occupation ;; prince
age ;; eighteen
nationality ;; indian

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ＳＵＮＡＩＮＡ "ＡＮＭＡＲ" ＫＨＡＮ

name;; sunaina anmar khan
nickname ;; anmar
occupation ;; vendor
age ;; seventeen
nationality ;; pakistani

[Amitta]

❥Punita

The sights. The smells. The people. Punita thrived in this sort of atmosphere. Like a flower beneath the sun, she lived off of the interaction she dealt with on a daily basis. She had fount from a young age that every person who happened upon the city's market was different. They all had their own stories and lives that they were going to carry on with, people they were looking forward to meeting and those they hated with a fiery passion. It was in the young woman's nature to discover all of this and unravel it until she could read into their lives. It might be considered nosy, but she loved it anyways. People reading. However, she had had little time to actually do that today. Punita moved with a sort of cat-like quickness, motioning people towards her little measly booth and trying to offer them all sorts of things that her employer had had his workers make. It was now her job to sell them. Wide arrays of perfumes and different fabrics as well as a few trinkets were spread out before her--all worth a great deal of money. Bargaining was the goal. To sell as much as she could for a considerable profit might mean higher pay for her, which was all she had really wanted these days. It could make life so much better for both her mother and her.

"Come look at the finest fabric that India has to offer!" Punita called out, almost sticking her head out of her little stall and she tried to make her voice heard over the constant thunderous buzz of voices. She noticed a young woman walking by the booth and a small smirk lit up her face as she picked up the perfume and motioned it towards her. "Why not some perfume? Who knows, maybe it will catch the attention of one of the princes today?" The curious look on the young woman's face made her heart flutter with hope, but it was dashed the minute she placed her fingers on the top of the bottle and pushed it back towards her, trying to appear gracious with the act itself.

Punita sighed, taking it and placing it back beside the fabric. She ran a hand through her hair, looking around for another potential customer. The market was unusually busy this day for it was told that both princes would be making a trip here to view an important part of their country's economy. As expected, every young woman and their mother was here if they could be, hoping to capture the attention of one of the princes. Though Punita found it silly, she didn't mind it as long as it increased her sales. There was not a single part of herself that was as thrilled about this as they were. They as a whole were worlds apart from the lives of the princes and their father. It made the thought

✤Anad

The day was young, the sun rising above the horizon and showering the earth with its many rays of light. Anad watched it with interest, finding it easier to look at while he pretended to be listening to what his father said. It wasn't that the young man was usually disrespectful. He just found it easier to go along with whatever came out of his father's mouth these days. It usually went along the lines of visiting places and keeping in touch with his old important friends. He wished for things with a little more life to them though, something exciting, and visiting his old friends was far from the sort of thing he had in mind. He could usually hear music streaming in over the court's walls--played by their owner's skilled fingers--and knew that it was most likely a lowly man who played for money just outside the capital's markets. There was something intriguing about that; something different. That was the sort of live he wanted to see more of. To see the common person and the inter-workings of their job sounded so much more fascinating than sitting there and receiving lessons every day, no matter how important they were for his future.

"Anad!" he heard his father say. Anad flinched, looking away from the open balcony and turning his attention back to his father with the look of a child who just got caught sneaking off into a place they weren't supposed to be. "Did you even hear me, boy? I just told you that you need to get ready. You have your trip with your brother to the markets today and you need to look good when you do. I'll have no son of mine looking like a common street rat." He flinched as he father's voice thundered through the room, but he understood why. The clothes he sometimes pulled himself into in the morning before he went out were not something that someone like him should have been wearing. Not to mention the fact that his father seemed stressed out of his mind lately. He probably could have done more to avoid it. "Yes, father," he murmured respectfully, dipping his head before walking out of the room as quickly as he could. This minute he was sure he was out of his father's sight, Anad started to run, a smile on his face as he realized what today would bring. He would be getting to do something that he had wanted to do for months.

"Idris?" he called, coming to a stop and poking his head around the corner of the hall, his dark black hair falling into his eyes slightly as he did so. He had no clue where his brother might be but that didn't stop him from trying to find him anyways. Today was to be a busy day, and Anad showed obvious signs of being as excited as ever for the day's festivities. It was only a wonder that he didn't dash through every hall, singing about that joy. It was certainly in his manner after all, but he feared further retaliation from his father.

[rosesgreedy]

» a n m a r . k h a n «

Anmar assorts the daggers, knives, and swords carefully across her stand, making sure they were all in her sight. With the Sultan raising his taxes, more than half the population had no choice but to steal; even she has fallen in the trap. And of course, she wouldn't allow that to happen to her stand. Not with her weaponry. Not that she enjoyed her occupation or anything. No woman would ever want to buy a weapon, only the men. Anmar has been almost terrified of such creatures since birth. Maybe if her father had been alive, things may have been different. Seeing her mother sell the merchandise year by year has taken a bit of this fear away, but it was never enough. However, her mother had fallen ill only a week before this day, and Anmar had no choice but to take her place. It wasn't so bad, she supposed. For once she didn't have to sit in the corner, alone. Even if that did mean having to yell more than what she was used to. Anmar almost never yelled by her will, let alone spoke. It was odd for her growing up, hating to speak, yet detested being alone; no one could please her. She'd only ever speak to her mother or her older brother — until he deceased, of course. Killed by the same illness that her mother had at the time. Had she been able to, she would've helped her mother bring some coin to the table. But what four year old had such capacity?

She flinches as she notices a man of age admiring her daggers. Anmar forces a smile, moving silently toward the man. “May I help you sir?” She asks him meekly, attempting not to stumble over her words. It was now his turn to flinch, as he didn't hear nor see her walk over to him. He picked up one of the larger ones, one with a golden handle, asking, “How much does it cost?” It irks her, slightly, to see how practically everyone aimed for the larger ones. She, personally, preferred the smaller ones. They never get in the way of her stealth, allowing her to move lightly and smoothly on her feet; no need to carry giant swords that are able to be heard kilometers away. But heck, that was the costumer's problem. Only they know what they want. The two come up with a reasonable price, leaving both satisfied. Anmar was left unsure if it was a good or a bad thing there weren't many costumers today. But then again, what man would like to appear like an assassin in front of a prince?

Anmar jumps as she remembers the dreadful thought. The princes. That would explain why the stand across from hers was getting a decent amount of female costumers. Punita, she believed the merchant's name was. Anmar wasn't really sure as to how she felt about such important visitors. It must be difficult, trying to make people of such royalty understand the pain and suffering of many. No high-class person would. If at all, they'd look down at those others with pity, but no more than that. A bit sad, yes, but Anmar couldn't blame them. She'd never understand how they lived, and she couldn't expect them to understand the way she did.

» i d r i s . m i t t a l «

Realism. He aimed desperately at the kind of art. Not once had Idris seen anyone attempt such a thing, in this country, at least. He'd seen the Greek make many gorgeous sculptures of clay, something so captivating to Idris. His father surely would overlook such beauty, causing him to never show his father any of his work. His father knew what he does instead of sleep, that he was sure of, but never had he given him a word of support or admiration. It did lower his hopes a bit, that not even his own father payed attention to him, but perhaps it was his own fault. For years, he has pushed the poor man away, maybe it was something Idris deserved for his ignorance. Maybe. Just maybe. Only a bit more, and he doubted that man would ever consider him a son of his.

The thought penetrated Idris' head, to the point where he realized the clay in his hand was no longer a sphere. “Gah!” He exclaims, only loud enough for him to hear. He molds the small slab back into its pervious state, appearing nearly identical as before. Satisfied, with his nails, Idris carves shallow lines that intersect with one another before dipping it carefully in the small pot of water. He applies it on a larger piece of clay, one that took the silhouette of a face, in the "eye socket" he'd created before. Idris knew his face proportions well, allowing him to excel each time in his work. He was only a bit rusty on the lips, but heck, practice does make perfect. A little bit more, and the project could be mistaken for a real human face. With a small knife, he cuts a rectangle out of a pice he rolled out earlier. He repeats the process with the sphere, and soon applies it where the eyebrow would be, down to about a quarter of the eye itself. He extends it by its sides, making sure there was no trace of any not-so-neat edges. Idris smoothed out the "eye lid" a bit more until he was comfortable with it. Not precisely satisfied, but it was close enough. After all, today he couldn't have that kind of time to perfect his work. As today was something more important than a mere pass - time.

And of course now he regrets not sleeping at all last night. No, that's a lie. He slept enough to see the moon beginning to fall, but that was about it; only a little less than what he was accustomed to. Idris never really thought about the consequences until now. If it were up to him, he'd fall asleep right here, right now, but that wasn't in his power. It was a call from the corridor that kept him awake, and he thanked it. He sits for a moment, trying to recognize the voice. Ah, yes. The owner of the voice was Anad, his brother. Rising to his feet, he freezes. Shifting his gaze to his clothes, he notices the signs that he had been working with clay, as they were rather ... abundant. Would it be a good idea to change? No, of course not. There was still plenty of time before the grand event, no need for Idris to worry about details now. He left his room, scurrying down the hallway. Idris spotted Anad not that far down the hall, but certainly facing the wrong direction. “Yes, Anad?” He inquired, a bit louder than intended.

[Amitta]

❥Punita

Punita took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of her nose as she tried to explain to one of her newer customers that the prices for her perfume would not be marked down - even if the older woman thought that it would be the only spark that her daughter needed to catch one of the prince's eyes. Though she was happy to have an increase in customers, she wished to avoid the pointless ones. They took from the people who might actually pay her for her products. Then again, one look across the streets at Ammar was enough to make her realize she really shouldn't complain. This wasn't going to be a good business day for her. It surely was a shame, for she found the various array of weapons that she sold to be quite fascinating and oddly intriguing. The fact that something so artistically made and unique could have such dark and strange purposes made her think more than once about any person who wondered upon Ammar's stall as well.

"I'm taking a small break. Come back later with fair bargains and I will listen with both ears," Punita muttered crossly, making sure that the merchant beside her kept watch over the stand in exchange for two coins that she had pulled from her pouch. The young merchant had always had a very blunt and sarcastic air about her. She did not once shy away speaking her mind. Punita was well known in this regard, not sparing a single person's feelings because she felt like they deserved it. It just didn't work that way and it was a habit that she had picked up from her mother when watching her work when she was just a little girl. Most who came to her expected to receive the truth and at least a partly fair deal; however, many walked away with an angry expression on their face and money still in their own hands. If you can imagine, it was for this very reason that her overseer had tried to curb it, but to no avail. Some things just never changed.

Punita stumbled across the streets, her pointed and serious-like expression seeming odd on such a tiny woman as she pushed her way through the crowds. The smell was nauseating to her - a mixture of women who smelled so much like flowers that they almost seemed to be one themselves, and men who's breath smelled of things that she could not even identify but were surely enough to make her want to plug her nose. With one final push, Punita made her way into an open space alongside her friend's stall, coughing into her shoulder and looking around with widened eyes. The man Ammar had been dealing with was now gone, leaving her standing a few feet away, looking deep in thought.

"Is everything alright? You seem troubled," Punita commented, turning to look at the weapons displayed on the table with a hidden fascination before forcing herself to look away and back at her friend. She was a woman and it would look odd if she continued with such an endeavor. "Is it about the princes? They are all I have ever heard about today since I woke up."

✤Anad

The sound of his name being called from behind him made Anad jump, almost tripping and falling onto his face and her quickly turned around and found that it was no one other than his brother - just the man he was looking for. Idris has a way of appearing so much more calm than he was to him, making this moment a perfect example to him. He always seemed to be caught up in things that Anad himself would never have the sheer patience to accomplish. It was in particular his artistic abilities that always caught his attentions. They were always full of detail to him and it made him stop and think, which was quite an accomplishment considering just how much energy the young man had. It was as if he could run around every single hall within this fine building and never grow tired. It was that same restless energy that often times got him into very serious trouble and angered the Sultan on more than one occasion. Idris had his own trouble with their father as well, but he never really brought that up in conversation.

"Oh, did I disturb you? You-well...you look like you were busy with something," Anad replied, motioning the the clay splattered on various parts of his brother's clothes. Not waiting for an answer, he dashed towards him, coming to a stop just at the corner of the wall so that he could rest aside it, though he was soon tapping his fingers along it to make a pattern of sounds as discreetly as he knew how. Oh, how looking he was that his father was no longer around him. He would have been scolded severely for his actions and been told about how a prince of India should not be acting so. It was all wasted though, for he not once listened to what was said on the matter.

"You better hope that father does not wonder upon you so by the way. He's been in a cross mood all morning." Crossing his arms across his chest, he laughed lightly, his dark brown eyes alight with an appearance of amusement. "I swear it was not my fault though. I think the stress about the market visit today is finally making him crack."

Anad could barely contain his excitement. The market visit had been something he had been looking forward to since his father told them of it a few days back. The chance to get to see all of those things that he was never lucky enough to view was appealing in a mysterious way. What waited for them outside those high walls that caged them in every day? His mind was filled with all sorts of images from the countless stories he had heard from their servants; things that seemed to hold some reality compared to all of the old wise-tales.

[rosesgreedy]

» a n m a r . k h a n «

She was almost bothered by the crowd, as she wasn't really a fan of change. Anmar was never used to this ruckus. It surprised her that she hadn't closed the shop and went back home, but how could she? Her mother wouldn't be pleased at all. She could just wander around, but why? She wasn't really sure when the princes were supposed to come in the first place, and didn't want to miss out on something important. And who knows, if she's lucky, another costumer will drop by. It shouldn't be so awful ... or so she hoped. Ah, heck, it's only for a short while that she would have a drop in costumers. After all, tomorrow shall be another day. In this time of year, where hog deer, wild boar, and chinkara were abundant, her mother's sales spiked up drastically. Which gave Anmar a bit of comfort, knowing that soon she'd have enough to pay a healer to check her mother. Unfortunately, sooner couldn't come any later.

Anmar shifts a gaze as she feels a shadow approaching her. It was Punita, and quite frankly, it shocked Anmar that a vendor with such a successful day would take the time to talk to her. Anmar assumed there was a small spark in the gray eyes of hers, finally glad she wasn't so alone. She smiled, barely, but it was still a smile, nonetheless. Anmar was never really fond of those things. Smiles. Not on her face, at least. It did look nice, but Anmar would never believe such a thing. It was mostly her mother who planted the thought in the poor girl's head. She was never good with children, let alone her own. The woman had an awfully sharp tongue, and an attitude that appeared like a snake's — you never knew when she'd bite. She was still Anmar's mother, despite it all. Never could Anmar speak terribly of her, she simply believed her mother needed time. But that time never came.

“Troubled? No, of course not. Everything's fine,” She replied, still a bit weary, “not the best, but certainly not awful.” Anmar quickly assumed there was not a need to explain further, as it could have been quite obvious how her sales were going that day. As for those who couldn't tell — well, those people must certainly be blind. She paused, before formulating a response to what she'd said about the princes. “No, not — not necessarily. It is bothersome, however, to see nothing come out of peoples' mouth other than that topic.”

» i d r i s . m i t t a l «

Idris laughed as Anad nearly tumbled to the ground — but on the inside. Across his face, a mere smirk. He would have laughed, maybe, had he been more awake. A constant problem with Idris. Never wanting to sleep, and then never wanting to wake up. But then there was his brother ... a squirmy little child. He swore, not once had he seen Anad be able to sit still in one dang place. Idris, when he was younger, would often desire a brother that wasn't so ... energetic. Had he enjoyed that? Yes, probably so. But Anad was still his brother, and Idris knew his life wouldn't be the same without the bouncy kid. After all, a brother just as calm as Idris wouldn't work out for him. As much as he liked peace and quiet, Idris did enjoy a good laugh every once in a while, something he couldn't do himself.

Idris eyed his clothes again as Anad motioned to them, as if forgetting for a moment what he was doing before. Ah, yes, now he remembered. He shrugged it off, not giving it much importance. After all, it was only clay, some markings were already there before, all dried up by now. Not much he could do, well, would do about it. Idris opened his mouth to reply, but shut it quickly when he noticed that Anad did not want one. A good thing, he supposed. Not that he had anything better to say to that.

“Not your fault? Oh, I'm sure.” Idris replied sarcastically. Of course, he couldn't prove whether or not Anad did anger him, but he could only assume, after seeing how many problems he gave the Sultan. Not grave problems, at least. It was more a question of irritating him in the worst of times. “How could it be stress? Not like he's going. And if he's stressed about us — well, he shouldn't be. Frankly, I'm looking forward to today. Can you imagine, Anad? Oh, all the sights that await us — finally, something different!”

[Amitta]

❥Punita

"That is good. At least yuo are fine, and I can understand as well," Punita replied with a tone of relief. "It is all I have heard about since I was woken up this morning. It is certainly funny to see everyone's reactions though--the mothers' especially." There was a twinge of humor that came with what she said, her eyes alight with the hilarity of it all. Punita was pretty sure that the princes were not going to pay attention to a single person there except for those who they were told to. After all, they would most likely marry someone with a high status who would complement them well and assure their place within the Sultan's palace. The women gathered within the streets were fooling themselves immensely. If it was socially appropriate, Punita would have fallen to her knees and acted out a dramatized version of it all herself.

However, the atmosphere set by the way that the market was decorated was enough to make her understand why this was such an amazingly big deal to so many. It was all regally done up, all different types of warm hues adorning the stone walls along with cloths hanging down across the adjoining sides. Little children could be seen darting through the crowds with all sorts of little toys and nick-knacks in hand, screaming loudly but going almost unheard with all of the noise. The amount of animals crowded around the small area was immense as well, their owners guiding them through the streets with the utmost care. Most wore smiles on their faces, excited for the visit soon to come. The feeling was infectious and Punita soon made sure to stomp all over it to avoid letting it take over her. This wasn't going to be an important matter for her unless she was literally visited by an official today. She needed to be able to keep her mind and thoughts focused on her business.

Punita examined Ammar, that joking look soon leaving her face. It was a real shame that her day wasn't going as well business-wise. Life was never exactly easy with this sort of job and she wished everyone who had it good luck. To have to rely on the ability of the common person to want your goods was like waiting for a spark to go off and it relied on many factors. Things got worse for her the farther away celebrations loomed, most of her goods used to decorate, create, and add to one's overall appearance. Pausing, Punita took her finger and lightly touched the handle of the shining sword closest to her. "Goodness, you do have some lovely choices here though. Maybe someone special will stop to look at these. I would buy one myself if I could." The young woman avoided saying the word prince, realizing just how annoyed Ammar might be with it by now. It was an interesting idea to think about though. After all, weapons like these could certainly entrance their minds. Not all men had an appetite for weaponry, but there had to be at least someone within the group today who would end up taking a look.

✤Anad

Anad wore a fake pout, a look of amusement on his face that clearly gave him away. "Oh Idris, do you really doubt me my brother?" The prince let his facade down, actually attempting at looking like a calm, normal young man to prove that he was actually going to attempt to behave today--which would most likely not work out in the end. "But there are still many reasons he might be worried. There will be many people there and I am sure he is afraid something will go wrong in that regard. Security is a big part of it after all, though I am no mind reader." Anad promised himself that he was going to try to prove his father wrong today. He did not wish to vex the man further and cause his mind to be filled with problems that were obviously attached to the whole public image issue and overall safety of his sons.

Anad further examined the marks of clay, but said nothing. He would have to eventually find a way to see what his brother had sculpted, sure that it was something that he would find visually stunning. He always found it interesting how Idris could invest himself and his energy into such works. There was almost a certain level of jealousy that could be seen if you really dug through it all. Anad himself was never really skilled with any particular hobby, or at least that if what he felt. He could not achieve good public speaking skills and was not a good debater. He felt revolted with trying to sit down and write with his penmanship and had little to no patience to create any sort of art form. Instead, he went from activity to activity and finished some of it at a time before moving on to the next project. There was a great possibility that he had many of them still unfinished.

"You could certainly say that! I have been looking forward to this trip since it was announced." There seemed to be a different version of himself there as he spoke, one completely enraptured with the possibilities of what might occur today. He had only known the court for so long and had seen the same faces over and over again since he was just a young boy. Today would promise a break from the ordinary. "I wonder what sorts of people we will see--what they wear and how they do up their hair and the like. I bet it must be different from what we do here," Anad commented with a mystified voice. "What do you think we might see?"

[rosesgreedy]

» a n m a r . k h a n «

“It's reasonable, I suppose. Anmar responded at last after a short moment of pondering. “Not every day do such important visitors come to the market — especially ones who can either make or break the economy of the entire country.” As much as the news was beginning to irk her, she could only understand why /some/ people were excited. She still remained unsure why many females had the desire to appear rather dashing — and for what? Only to ogle. Of course, those women would want nothing more than the princes to notice them, but there was no chance of that. It was only natural for people to marry those within their social status. It was those of the lower status who made this happen. Now, it is only natural for people like the princes could only assume that any woman who approached one of them was only interested in an inheritance of some sort ... not exactly interested in one of the princes as a person. And yes, who wouldn't enjoy some extra coin in their pouch? However, marrying for it is just a bit too much, according to Anmar. If they wanted money, then they should work for it, not destroying another's life for your own benefit.

And there came the thought again about leaving. Anmar highly doubted another costumer would even acknowledge her small stand, even if they were only placed millimeters away from it. All that would await her is failure and boredom, nothing like a normal day. Yes, Anmar had to blame it on the princes. It couldn't be their intention, but if they had only stayed in their place, she wouldn't be having a day that was simply awful. She'd had her days of a lack of customers, but never this low. If she were to go home now, she wouldn't have to suffer. But she couldn't do that. No, of course not. Anmar relied on the business, as well as her mother. Not that her mother cared much. A stubborn, cold woman like her couldn't care. Or at least, that's how she would appear. At dinner, if Anmar said a word about not working, her mother would plead her to continue working, to keep some coin for when she's no longer around. And it was that day that gave Anmar a small hope for the day, her mother, and a better relationship, that would carry on; even if the illness takes her mother in its arms.

Anmar's thoughts were interrupted by Punita's voice. She flinched a bit at the sound of her voice, as she had nearly forgotten Punita was even anywhere near her small stand. “Pfft, I doubt that.” She retorted. A costumer, maybe; but it was the word special that threw her off. Someone special. Anmar doubted, after pausing for a moment, that Punita meant it like that. But perhaps she did. What ever she meant, there were no other costumers that would be interested in her merchandise today, and that, Anmar was almost sure of.

» i d r i s . m i t t a l «

“Doubt you? Oh, no, never.” His tone of voice fell flat as he spoke, trying to hold back a yawn. But it was the mere thought of what awaited him that day that kept him awake, and only a part of him dying — but it was the kind of dying that was nearly enough for him to burst out the door. And he probably would have — if he was already dressed and such. “I suppose so.” Idris shook off the suggestion, only wanting to forget about the topic of security. Although security was awfully important, the thought of being surrounded by the palace guards didn't necessarily appeal to Idris. The last thing he wanted was to have so many restrictions to every step he took. With any sort of guard around him, he wouldn't be able to go and explore the place, even if it was just for a little while. But it was also the thought of being on the edge of life or death that frightened Idris into being okay with such restrictions.

Idris mulled over Anad's words, truly unsure as what they could possibly see. “Oh heck, I have no idea,” He responds at last, “but whatever we do come across, it would certainly be much more interesting than what we see here.” It was odd to hear himself speak with such a certainty in his voice. Often, on any other day, he could find a loop hole to anything he said, causing him to give many ifs and what ifs in his answers. However, today wasn't any other day. Idris, despite his usual harmonious mood, if he could, would be practically bouncing off the walls. If he didn't, it was because he thought he'd look ridiculous, like a noisy little child. It was probably the shine in his black eyes that could give away his mood, and maybe the way how his face would brighten as soon as the event was mentioned.

The prince's mind whirled with all the possibilities of what laid before him. It would probably be a good idea to bring some coin, he thinks, incase there happens to be someone in the market who sells some sort of art supplies. Which Idris doubted slightly, but it was still possible. Because of the folk takes he'd heard as a young boy, he could only imagine the market being filled with people of all shapes and sizes, of all social classes. It was a good thing that the Sultan wouldn't be accompanying thing, as he wouldn't be quite pleased to see one of his sons making any kind of contact with those who live on the streets.

[Amitta]

[I am so sorry that my posting has been so in between lately. /shot/ I should have something up and ready for tomorrow.

I was wondering if you would like to skip ahead to when they arrive? I feel like I'm making this rp move so slow as of late.]