Post by Stasja Iskandera on Jun 9, 2011 11:35:12 GMT -6
Stasja wandered around the town square done with her chores for the day, it was near about time she got herself a job, likely something at the tavern or the Inn serving drinks or food to the villagers or newcomers to town. She was familiar with some of the people in town as she’d grown up here though she’d mostly been quick with her duties and chores not leaving much time to converse and get to know people.
Standing about he middle of the town square she looked upon the stature there of the man on the horse. Her eyes started at the base of its legs and traveled up the front of the horse, up his neck and to his face. The carving, though worn by time, was realistic in its creation. Her eyes moved over the man on the statue, who had he been? A soldier? A commander? Perhaps a town savior? She’d never heard, and thre was no plaque saying who he was, if there ever had been it was gone now. His features too were worn so much so that he couldn't be told from Adam.
She stood there a moment pondering the cause of the stature commemoration deciding eventually that maybe it was only a gift, or a decoration. Stasja moved to sit at the base of the statue next to its side, her lightly curled auburn locks draped over her shoulders the ends of which brushed the cover of a book she’d been carrying with her. She pulled her feet close to her and opened the dark green cloth bound book. Her eyes carefully read over the old pages of the book. It was written in Russian and was a collection of folktales and legends.
She turned the page to see an illustration that went with what she was reading. A large black bird drawn with the head of a woman sitting on a briar bush. She looked over the image thoughtfully for a moment before she went back to reading.
Standing about he middle of the town square she looked upon the stature there of the man on the horse. Her eyes started at the base of its legs and traveled up the front of the horse, up his neck and to his face. The carving, though worn by time, was realistic in its creation. Her eyes moved over the man on the statue, who had he been? A soldier? A commander? Perhaps a town savior? She’d never heard, and thre was no plaque saying who he was, if there ever had been it was gone now. His features too were worn so much so that he couldn't be told from Adam.
She stood there a moment pondering the cause of the stature commemoration deciding eventually that maybe it was only a gift, or a decoration. Stasja moved to sit at the base of the statue next to its side, her lightly curled auburn locks draped over her shoulders the ends of which brushed the cover of a book she’d been carrying with her. She pulled her feet close to her and opened the dark green cloth bound book. Her eyes carefully read over the old pages of the book. It was written in Russian and was a collection of folktales and legends.
She turned the page to see an illustration that went with what she was reading. A large black bird drawn with the head of a woman sitting on a briar bush. She looked over the image thoughtfully for a moment before she went back to reading.