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Description
It was a fairly warm afternoon for an early spring day in the great city of Alexandre. The streets in all parts of the city were crisscrossed by horses, carts, many many people, and the occasional coach. The markets were bustling, the gardens were blooming, and even in the lower ends of the city things were lively...
One man, however, was concerned very little with the exuberance of the day, having slept, or attempted to do so, in a noisome farm wagon in order to get back into the city and now planning only on returning to his garret room in the Briar and the Rose Inn. He trudged up its front steps with a sigh of anticipation. On the balcony of the Inn, streetside, a slim, graceful figured young woman is doing laundry. Her hair is a dark brunette, half caught up in a loose bun to keep it out of the laundry water. She has smiling dark hazel eyes, almost black, but not quite and notices the man coming from a bit off and half wrinkles her nose. Bending down, she hefts the bucket of clean water at her side and held it until he was at just the right spot... and dumps it right over his head.
He stops dead in his tracks, looks up with a ‘Why Me’ expression and then wipes the water from his eyes and proceeds to enter the inn. The people inside give him a lot of funny looks as he enters the common room and turns to go up the stairs. Employees and low renters live upstairs; it’s also where the access to the balcony is. She giggles to herself and turns around, waiting.
He's already standing inside the balcony doorway, arms folded, dripping puddles on the floor, soaked to the skin. "......Madam. I demand an explanation."
"You need bath." She speaks with a very thick Italian accent, smiling almost smugly... but in an innocent kind of way. She leans back against the railing, one hip thrust a bit to the side, the offending bucket at her feet.
"...Well, usually I don't accept baths from strangers. Whatever gave you the idea that I would enjoy being doused with cold water??"
"You were taking too long getting your own. I gave you a... a boost." She paused, trying to find the right word. "Besides, I enjoyed it." She grins impishly at him.
Thomas sighs, giving her a withering and infinitely world-weary look. "Madam, I have just spent the last three days riding a borrowed horse out of the city, staying at the home of a dear friend fallen ill—bless him and may this recovery of his last—then riding all night and the better part of the day in a farmer's jolting market cart full of hay and hens trying to get back to the shabby little room where there is a frame with a straw bolster and blankets on it waiting for my immediate attention. I do hope you enjoyed it, but if you'll excuse me..." He turns on his heel to leave.
She actually starts laughing. "You take life too seriously, signore. And I wouldn't go to bed all wet. Make you smell worse. Finish what I started first, feel better afterwards." Apparently the faster she talks, the worse her grammar gets. Thomas arches an eyebrow at her, somewhat put off by this woman. "Oh, really, and what would you suggest I do?"
"Take bucket and soap, go behind the inn and take a real bath, signore. Not so difficult. In apology, I wash wet clothes." She bends picks up the bucket and holds it out to him.
He eyes her, considering this. She's offering to do his laundry here, any labor is good labor, and she does owe him. "Fine, but I'm not bathing behind this inn. I'll wash in my room, unless you have any objections?"
She makes a face. "I not peek!" The bucket is pushed into his hands. "Said go behind the inn because water is back there."
"I know, I live here. ....Wait, don't you?"
"Si, signore. Upstairs and at end of the hall." She responds mildly, going back to the laundry. This information puts her door directly across the hall from his room.
"Ah. Right, well, the pump is behind the inn, but I still don't plan on bathing out there. I'll bring you the wet clothes in a bit." He leaves with the bucket, then returns upstairs and spends about a half-hour in his room, then emerges clad in wrinkly pants and a shirt, holding his wet clothes and goes to knock on her door.
But, she's still out on the balcony doing laundry for the inn and herself as well, singing softly in her native tongue, soft enough to hear his knocking. "Down here, signore!"
Thomas comes down to the balcony. "Oh. Here." He holds out the wet clothes to her while she's hanging some things on the lines she'd had strung across the outer rafters.
"Put it in the water, signore." Lucia nods her head at the large basin full of soapy water behind her. "I do not remember your name, signore....?"
Doing as she says. "Oh, call me Thomas."
"Tomas..." Repeating the name in her in her accent, she tries to pronounce it correctly, but the vowels are coming out a bit wrong. It's still recognizable as his name, though.

A snippet from the Renaissance RP, set in the fictional ciy of Alexandre. This is my second drawing of Lucia, and she's not exactly how I picture her here. I wanna say she looks too young and innocent and not Italian enough. But yeah.

Lucia (c) Me. Thomas (c)

Description
It was a fairly warm afternoon for an early spring day in the great city of Alexandre. The streets in all parts of the city were crisscrossed by horses, carts, many many people, and the occasional coach. The markets were bustling, the gardens were blooming, and even in the lower ends of the city things were lively...
One man, however, was concerned very little with the exuberance of the day, having slept, or attempted to do so, in a noisome farm wagon in order to get back into the city and now planning only on returning to his garret room in the Briar and the Rose Inn. He trudged up its front steps with a sigh of anticipation. On the balcony of the Inn, streetside, a slim, graceful figured young woman is doing laundry. Her hair is a dark brunette, half caught up in a loose bun to keep it out of the laundry water. She has smiling dark hazel eyes, almost black, but not quite and notices the man coming from a bit off and half wrinkles her nose. Bending down, she hefts the bucket of clean water at her side and held it until he was at just the right spot... and dumps it right over his head.
He stops dead in his tracks, looks up with a ‘Why Me’ expression and then wipes the water from his eyes and proceeds to enter the inn. The people inside give him a lot of funny looks as he enters the common room and turns to go up the stairs. Employees and low renters live upstairs; it’s also where the access to the balcony is. She giggles to herself and turns around, waiting.
He's already standing inside the balcony doorway, arms folded, dripping puddles on the floor, soaked to the skin. "......Madam. I demand an explanation."
"You need bath." She speaks with a very thick Italian accent, smiling almost smugly... but in an innocent kind of way. She leans back against the railing, one hip thrust a bit to the side, the offending bucket at her feet.
"...Well, usually I don't accept baths from strangers. Whatever gave you the idea that I would enjoy being doused with cold water??"
"You were taking too long getting your own. I gave you a... a boost." She paused, trying to find the right word. "Besides, I enjoyed it." She grins impishly at him.
Thomas sighs, giving her a withering and infinitely world-weary look. "Madam, I have just spent the last three days riding a borrowed horse out of the city, staying at the home of a dear friend fallen ill—bless him and may this recovery of his last—then riding all night and the better part of the day in a farmer's jolting market cart full of hay and hens trying to get back to the shabby little room where there is a frame with a straw bolster and blankets on it waiting for my immediate attention. I do hope you enjoyed it, but if you'll excuse me..." He turns on his heel to leave.
She actually starts laughing. "You take life too seriously, signore. And I wouldn't go to bed all wet. Make you smell worse. Finish what I started first, feel better afterwards." Apparently the faster she talks, the worse her grammar gets. Thomas arches an eyebrow at her, somewhat put off by this woman. "Oh, really, and what would you suggest I do?"
"Take bucket and soap, go behind the inn and take a real bath, signore. Not so difficult. In apology, I wash wet clothes." She bends picks up the bucket and holds it out to him.
He eyes her, considering this. She's offering to do his laundry here, any labor is good labor, and she does owe him. "Fine, but I'm not bathing behind this inn. I'll wash in my room, unless you have any objections?"
She makes a face. "I not peek!" The bucket is pushed into his hands. "Said go behind the inn because water is back there."
"I know, I live here. ....Wait, don't you?"
"Si, signore. Upstairs and at end of the hall." She responds mildly, going back to the laundry. This information puts her door directly across the hall from his room.
"Ah. Right, well, the pump is behind the inn, but I still don't plan on bathing out there. I'll bring you the wet clothes in a bit." He leaves with the bucket, then returns upstairs and spends about a half-hour in his room, then emerges clad in wrinkly pants and a shirt, holding his wet clothes and goes to knock on her door.
But, she's still out on the balcony doing laundry for the inn and herself as well, singing softly in her native tongue, soft enough to hear his knocking. "Down here, signore!"
Thomas comes down to the balcony. "Oh. Here." He holds out the wet clothes to her while she's hanging some things on the lines she'd had strung across the outer rafters.
"Put it in the water, signore." Lucia nods her head at the large basin full of soapy water behind her. "I do not remember your name, signore....?"
Doing as she says. "Oh, call me Thomas."
"Tomas..." Repeating the name in her in her accent, she tries to pronounce it correctly, but the vowels are coming out a bit wrong. It's still recognizable as his name, though.

A snippet from the Renaissance RP, set in the fictional ciy of Alexandre. This is my second drawing of Lucia, and she's not exactly how I picture her here. I wanna say she looks too young and innocent and not Italian enough. But yeah.

Lucia (c) Me. Thomas (c)