It's market day at the Agora in Athenia! Or, at least it would be if half the stalls weren't missing... Whilst the commonfolk are too outside the spheres of trade to realise it to be the cause, tax and levy arrangements have not been adjusted for future imports at the Athenian docks. As such, traders have sailed elsewhere to offer and exchange their goods. Whilst some in the Senate blame the absence of their Queen for such oversights, others are looking with a baleful eye at Lord Elias who claims to have everything in the palace under control. Meanwhile the people of Athenia are staring at the food available and a far larger ratio of mouths to consume it... Desperate times...
Market day! How wonderful! So many people to sing to, to dance to! To spread her joy around! Koko’s heart was beating at a mile a minute, even though his stomach felt like it was twisting. There were so many positives and negatives to this.. First, everyone here wanted food, they wanted to get their rations and fill their stomachs. This meant that if he bothered the wrong person, he could expect a very painful punch to the face. And she didn’t think that a bruised up face would be quite appealing to others while she sang.
Secondly, she was starving too! The sun up above was hot and his stomach was growling so much but he persisted anyway. He had his phorminx in hand, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead, his cheeks and disappearing into his skin as it hit his chest. Imagine if he had passed out in front of all of these people...his reputation would he ruined. And if not ruined, people would look forward to seeing him doing it again. She could see it now! Many citizens gathering around in amusement the market just to watch him faint after overworking himself in the heat. He’d never get noticed by his father If that happened!
That motivated him though.. His father. This would be a great opportunity to get attention, to perhaps inspire some kids or even receive an applause for his singing! Koko didn’t want to go too overboard though. He didn’t want to dance too strong nor sing too loud. Everyone had their opinion but it would be safe to keep his tone down so that he wouldn’t risk a voice crack. After all, with a lack of water, his throat wasn’t quite...prepared. He would have to find ways to bring attention to himself while not looking like a fool in the process.
For fuck's sake. Apparently this summer was going to suck on multiple levels. Lesley had gone hungry before, and he would simply tighten his belt and do it again - though for a gladiator in fighting trim, merely 'hungry' still implied more food than 'full' had as a scrawny kid. Even so, he was more concerned with buying for his mother than himself - he could depend on at least lunch from the common pot at the gladiator barracks. And why on earth was local fish so expensive today? That couldn't possibly be in short supply. "What the fuck? For this? You damned shitcunt, there's no way..."
Okay, so maybe the heat was still making him short-tempered, though luckily nothing was setting him off the way it had a couple of weeks ago. The climbing prices weren't yet an insurmountable problem for him, but for once he was distinctly not liking the idea of stepping into the arena to try to win extra cash - mostly that stubborn streak that hated being forced into anything, but a good portion of his reluctance was due to the weather. He was hardly twenty any more, and pit him against one of the African gladiators good enough to simply keep their range and drag it out, and he would lose. Still better than starving to death out here, but he'd much rather go down because someone was honestly better than him - though, he supposed, you could call it the gods stepping in to decide the matter. Fair enough.
It didn't occur to him that most people didn't distract themselves from stress by contemplating their own inevitable and brutal deaths, just moved on to arguing with the next merchant.
At least they were doing all right in terms of supplies for the shop, but listening to the gossip, Lesley suspected that he needed to buy anything imported now, dyestuffs and silk and maybe even wool was likely to become entirely unobtainable in very short order. He considered how much coin he had left, and wandered off in another direction. He managed a couple more purchases, gave up on a third, and at the next stall when someone else butted in and offered to pay the price he'd just refused - after he'd haggled the merchant down by practically a third, and they'd been just about to come to an agreement - for the last of the man's stock, the gladiator vented an entire string of profanity and decided that it would probably be better to let his mother prioritize what they needed and how much they could afford to pay, anyway. Besides, his earlier purchases would last longer the sooner he got it into the cool shade of their pantry.
He was just turning his feet back towards home, when a few quiet notes caught his attention; he recognized the musician as one he'd tossed a coin or two to before. Just the plucked strings on the phorminx, at the moment, no sweet words accompanying it. Lesley moved closer, music always improved his mood at least a bit - if you considered quiet and surly better than loud and pissy, at least. He frowned, his features settling firmly into grouch mode as he noticed the rhapsodist's pallor. Experience made him particularly good at noticing how exhausted or heat-addled someone was - usually so he could take advantage of it, but that was neither here nor there - and he walked up to the musician as the tune ended, shifting his basket with an irritated huff. "Have you had anything to eat today? You're about to fall over. Or anything to drink at least?" He strongly suspected not, and that was just dumb, and couldn't be blamed on poverty. The well-water available for free to the lower-class residents was relatively heavy with minerals, and anyone with a tongue to taste it would prefer wine, but it served well enough to wet one's throat, or stave off heat-sickness. "Here. Honestly." He reached into his basket and pulled out an apricot, slightly bruised because he'd refused to pay what had been asked for the more perfect fruit when it was going to be eaten within a day or two, and held it out.
He couldn't really afford to give it away, any more than the coin he'd just been thinking he couldn't afford to spare, and why he even cared about some street brat who's name he didn't even know... he recognized that thought as being a remnant of his time in the Marikas household, and ignored it. He cared because he'd once been there, dependent on the charity of passers-by and only able to eat once the day's gleanings were counted and someone could be found willing to sell the last scraps of their day's wares for cheap. He didn't care a lot, because Lesley was simply not a man who got upset at other people's suffering, but he apparently cared one apricot-worth, at least.
Koko had to think of some positive song...but his background thoughts were beginning to overpower the good ones one by one. He was just so parched and his stomach kept growling.. Shit, what about her mother? Had she gotten her own ration? Koko didn’t remember, he honestly didn’t know about anything that happened before he arrived at the market. He had just been so focused on showing off his talent that he had forgotten about his own mother. The only close family that he had at the moment.
With food being high in demand, Koko doubted that anyone in their right mind would give him any money, regardless of how low the amount was. She could forget about food, maybe she would get leftovers if one was feeling especially kind. After all, she did look like a rugrat out on these streets. The locals knew that he came here just to sing day and night. Besides that, Koko didn’t believe that they knew anything else.
Oh, the heat...
He felt like his brain was melting and getting cooked over fire...
Did people think of her that way? That she was nothing more than a one trick pony? That the only skill about him was singing, one which wasn’t a rare thing. After all, there were plenty of other singers around, and there were plenty of singers who knew how to play instruments too! Sure, the tunes that Koko played were self-made but at the end of the day, nobody actually praised his work. Maybe this whole thing was a mistake...
Fuck...the heat!
“Stop...stop...” Koko mumbled out to himself. Tears would’ve been visible in his eyes if the Sun hadn’t been beating down on his face. The heat was making her think all of these awful things! She was loved-her work was respected! A few critics couldn’t make her give up! If he wasn’t so tired from singing for almost the entire day, Koko would spend his time just reflecting on the day all night. Really...what was she without her little phorminx? Anyone who felt annoyed from her music could simply walk up to her and smash it to bits or steal it. It was that easy...all of her life gone...just like that.
Well, it didn’t happen yet!
She wouldn’t change her favorite hobby. A stupid heatwave couldn’t change that! It may make her feel less motivated and more lazy but a simple freaking drink would put her mind at ease. Even though she wanted to bring smiles to faces, she would have to accept that for once...she probably couldn’t. Even she had to face the facts.
Would she sing badly or not sing at all?
Sing through the pain or follow everyone else’s lead to get food and water.
One thing was sure though. She wouldn’t dare end her singing career. There was always another day..a cooler day. Even so, there had to be some way to quench her thirst! Koko wouldn’t back down until the sun rose in the west and set in the east. When the seas went dry and the mountains blow in the wind like leaves. He would have to faint or be shoved out before he even considered leaving.
Koko suddenly found himself crying out, it just being a little more audible than his mumble. He stumbled forward, managing to catch himself right before he fell. Not only can he hear the rumbling in his stomach but he can feel the twisting too. The pain of hunger shot from his stomach to his groin and ended at the center of his back. Could his stomach digest itself..? It felt like it was doing exactly that.
Sing, goddammit!
Koko then gathered up his pain into a mental ball and let it all out, singing some random lyrics even if it sounded like crap. It really were just mumbles though before he went silent, closing his eyes while he strummed the phorminx. That was when Koko heard footsteps getting close to him, the musician forcing his red eyes to open. There was not a hint of liquid visible in the blonde’s eyes but you could see his pain.
Koko looked at the man with a startled expression, as if he had just seen him. He didn’t want to talk, not because he didn’t trust him but because he didn’t want to lose his voice. Koko actually recognized him..yes, he saw many faces at the market but he did know that this man had given him coins in the past. Wait...could she consider this one of her..fans?!
Koko then lowered his gaze to the basket, his dry eyes widening when the man took out a rather bruised fruit. It may have not been clear of marks and firm but it was perfect to him. If he had stayed just a little longer in the heat, he probably would’ve gotten down on his knees and started worshiping the apricot!
Koko hurriedly took the apricot, fearful that a thief might snatch it due to being desperate..like him. He sunk his teeth into the orange fruit, the juice squirting into his mouth. Right then and there, Koko declared that this was the best fruit he had ever tasted. The fuzzy skin tickled at his tongue and its sweet-tarty juice quenched his thirst. Relief came over him, and it wasn’t long before his stomach stopped rumbling, happy to welcome the pieces of fruit that slid down his throat.
He didn’t waste a single drop of juice, quickly licking up any liquid that ran down his chin and stained his fingers. Koko had to literally force himself to pull back, not wanting the man to leave just yet. He didn’t take a deep breath, knowing that the dryness of the air would just bring back his thirst. Instead, he exhaled through his mouth and breathed in through his nose which already burned from the dust particles that rested inside.
It was a better method than sacrificing his throat to the heat again.
Koko carefully tucked his phorminx under his arm, making sure that he wouldn’t risk dropping his beloved instrument. He then gave the stranger a dip of his head, not kneeling down in case he would end up not being able to get up again. He had so many words to say but so little time...
It wouldn’t be long before the dryness of his throat returned.
Lesley watched the fruit swiftly disappear, his eyes ever so slightly unfocused and his expression blank. No judgement, just thinking, though whether that was obvious to anyone who didn't know him wasn't at all certain. Thinking slowly, in fact, because when it wasn't a matter of life and death - his own life or death, to be precise - whether he was particularly sharp or not tended to depend on the day. Getting hit in the head was only one of the downsides of his career choice.
"I'm Lesley." It sounded grouchy, but he was hardly obliged to give a random street performer his name, so it was probably supposed to be friendly. This heat would make anyone grumpy. He stared at the musician a moment longer, then added, "Seriously. If you can't afford to buy a drink, then go have some water." He pointed up the street in the direction of the nearest public fountain. "This heat can kill a man, otherwise." Without waiting for an answer, he turned and headed away. He needed to get home, put things away, have a drink himself, and tell his mother about what was going on in the market. By the time he reached the end of the block, he'd all but forgotten Koko.