Life in the Traveller’s District was infuriatingly simple. The average day of a kid Bri’s age was a constant cycle of school, socialising and home time, maybe with an hour or two to watch the travellers coming in and out of the main road.
For Bri herself, life was even simpler. The majority of her day was spent in her bedroom, studying or scribbling stories in the seemingly infinite pile of notebooks she owned. It was lonely at times, but she preferred the company of her parents and her stories than the kids outside. It was no secret that the Hightown kids liked to hang around here, always staring and leering and causing trouble for anyone who was remotely different to their rich Merinian families – and that was just the minor dangers of the town. Just a month ago a ship crashed into the Docklands and almost took out the broadway there. A house fire killed three people last week. Gods only knew what happened that wasn’t reported on.
No, Bri was absolutely fine in her own little bubble, surrounded by these safe walls and her predictable parents.The occasional visit to the library or to buy groceries was more than enough.
“Brienne!” Speaking of which… Bri glanced up from her notebook as her mother poked her head around the door, brown eyes skimming the room as she always did before her dark cheeks crinkled into a warm smile. “You need to go to a walk, darling. Get some sun on you.”
“I get plenty of sun standing at the window,” Bri chuckled, pushing to her feet and offering a good morning kiss to her dark cheek as she always did.
“Standing at the window won’t get the groceries,” she insisted, and Bri rolled her eyes as a note was handed to her, with a scribbled shopping list on it, “I know you need your lady-potions too.”
“Lady–” Brienne couldn’t help but giggle at that, nodding her head and sighing, “Alright mum. Just let me get my stuff together okay?”
Okay. Outside. As soon as mum left Bri was pacing her bedroom floor, reading the shopping list over and over as if it would distract her from the anticipatory pounding in her chest. She really did wish mum would give her more notice when she wanted her to go shopping – more time to prepare herself. Dad had tried to talk to her about it but apparently nothing about her aversion to the outside world seemed to make sense to her, so the last-minute errands continued.
Dad was at work. Knowing how long his shifts at the hospital usually took, it wasn’t like she could wait for him to get back and hype her up like he usually did. She was on her own with this one. Right, deep breaths, just like dad always says. She’d done it before and she could do it again, and it wasn’t always this scary – she was just having a bad anxiety day and it would pass as soon as she pushed herself to face it.
Marketplace was the westernmost of the town’s seven districts, housing shops from all across Neria and a huge market square where travelling salespeople set up shop on their way through. It was never her favourite district to visit, always so crowded and loud with people walking into each other and shouting to be heard. It was chaos, but she had to admit it was always interesting to see what new things had come in from other countries. This month it was mostly produce harvested from the drier lands to the northeast like tomatillos and amaranth that were close to going out of season, and fur fashion from the Eastern Island to prepare for the colder months.
Weaving as quickly as she could through the midday crowds, she stocked up on as many things on her list as possible (mostly just vegetables, breads, cereals and the like) before making a beeline to one of the back roads, heading to the Alchemist to get her “lady-potion” as mum had so elegantly put it.
“Brienne, welcome in my dear!” The alchemist, Barnaby, was an eccentric old man who had worked here for as long as Bri could remember. She had fond memories of coming here with dad for her prescription medication and getting a sweet treat or three when she was younger, and in all those years his crooked posture and warm smile that crinkled his eyes had always been a source of comfort for her. “The usual today?”
“You make it sound like I’m coming for a drink,” she laughed, “But yes, this month’s estrogen supply, please.”
“You drink it, do you not?” He chuckled, peering over the counter with bright blue eyes as he bent down to retrieve her prescription, “Can’t believe it’s been almost a year since you first asked for this.”
“I can,” she laughed, taking the bottle concealed in a brown paper bag from him with a grimace, “The taste never gets better.”
“I still remember the first time you came in looking for it, all meek and secretive,” he hummed, leaning his chin on gnarled hands with a fond hum.
“And you put it in a bag covered in a deterrent potion so my parents wouldn’t rummage, and I burst into tears, and you had to hug me for twenty minutes -- you remind me every month~”
“If I can’t embarrass you, what am I here for?” Flashing that grandfatherly smile once more, he pointed to the package she carried, “Put a clove on your tongue before you take it. Dampens the taste.”
“You couldn’t have told me that a year ago?!”
“Test of character, taking a potion as it comes,” he teased, running a hand through wispy white hair before giving her a wave, “Enjoy, my dear. See you next time!”
“Thank you!” Bri grinned, feeling a little lighter in her step as she left the shop and returned home. Visits to the alchemist were always the highlight of her errand days – sometimes she’d find herself wandering there just for the company, if she felt particularly overwhelmed. Her parents knew of her transition now of course (though mum still kept ‘slipping up’), but Barnaby had been wonderful in her early days of keeping it secret: even offering to supply her with illusion potions to hide her changes if she needed it. She was eternally grateful to him, and she returned to her bedroom with a smile, storing the bottle on her bookshelf where she would remember to take it every day.
