The streets and sidewalks of New Haven weren't paved in gold, but it wasn't too much of a stretch to imagine they might be. The cobblestones that seemed to dominate most of the pathways in the rest of the city weren't as prevalent here, as the business owners and district planners preferred to use brick when feasible. It was also far greener than the other districts, with trees planted along many of the roads and concrete planters filled with flowers placed here and there to further beautify the area. The buildings looked much newer and cleaner, too, though they utilized many of the same building materials that could be found elsewhere in RhyDin.
The people out walking also seemed to differ greatly from the typical residents of the city. Many of the men were dressed in fine suits, while the women wore dresses, skirts, and blouses that clearly marked them as members of high society. The crowds were typically sized, but seemed to move slower than those in the Marketplace or WestEnd might. They were clearly in no hurry to get back to their jobs or errands.
After a short walk into New Haven, many of those citizens carried bags from the high-end boutiques on Benson Boulevard. Among the many located on the street was Highlife Haberdashery. It was a little larger than some of the stores, but otherwise seemed a good fit for the neighborhood. There was an alley that ran beside it and another building, much cleaner than most alleys were, with an emergency exit to the store leading off into it. If one were inclined to venture further back, they'd stumble upon the loading dock for the back end of Highlife Haberdashery.
For once, the clothing Lirssa was required to wear actually helped her to blend in to the society walking the streets. Perhaps peculiarly dated, but something of retro chic might be the thought others had passing by the young lady. Adopting a straight back, head held high, and confident appearance, incongruous with how she currently felt, she walked along the avenue toward Highlife Haberdashery. This area was not usually her place to roam and wander. Not many abandoned children in need of her help along the streets here. Still, she knew of the shops, and in particular the one she walked to now, because of the people in it.
She had sworn not to speak to Locke D'Vestavio because he had connections, intimate connections, with the Smith family who were on her learn and spurn list. But, Jeb had mentioned him as a hopeful source of help for her current predicament, and if nothing else, maybe he knew how to keep a secret. She was not about to let others know she had gone seeking him out, though, and so at the opportune moment, when most of the passersby had their noses sharply in the air, she took a turn down the alleyway in search of a back entrance.
Most shops had them. They did not want customers seeing the laborers bringing in supplies. That would be ghastly. At the loading dock, the area seemed fairly empty at that time of day. She hoped that the proper use of wall angles and the leading edge of the door, she could slip by any that came out for a smoke or a break. Inside might be another matter entirely, unless she had some decidedly good luck and Locke was in view once she entered. Her luck had not been much on her side the past weeks.
None of the laborers responsible for putting Gerard Smith's clothing together were taking a break on the dock at that moment, nor were there any other watching eyes in the surrounding area. The walls were thick, but a careful ear (or one pressed against the surface) would be able to hear what sounded like a steady hum from inside.
Lirssa liked the feel of the place, or at least, it had the heavy thrumming feel of a giant hive. The door inside was locked, and that meant, she had to play a new role. Not sure how far it would get her, but she had to try. With a mighty knock on the door, she adopted a hurried, frantic look, foot was set to tapping and hands fidgeted. It may have been, she thought in retrospect, just as easy to go through the front door. But, well, she was there now and if nothing else, she'd cause enough of a ruckus to get what she needed in the end.
Slowly, and with a great deal of creaking and groaning, one of the doors opened, revealing a slightly stooped and grey-haired man. He had a very puzzled look on his face, as he muttered to himself. "There shouldn't be any more deliveries this afternoon..." He trailed off, when he saw Lirssa standing there, confusion now giving way to mild concern. "How may I help you, young lady?" With one of the doors now open, the clattering of sewing machines accompanied the hum, adding rhythm to the melody. At the machines sat seamstresses, stitching together dress shirts and trousers. Just barely visible was a familiar blue face, talking to someone beside him who wasn't immediately visible.
"Mister, you gotta let me in, I'm in killer trouble. My master told me tell the delivery boys to deliver ten boxes of mother of pearl buttons, only I think the delivery boys picked up the wrong boxes, and delivered ten boxes of horn buttons. If I don't get this straightened out, he's going to tan my biddlyrumpus. If you could just let me in to see the records so I can make sure the right buttons got delivered, I would be so grateful." Big sweet smile with her best affectation of puppy eyes presented to the old man. Lirssa had projected her voice on certain words in hopes that maybe Locke would hear her.
The people out walking also seemed to differ greatly from the typical residents of the city. Many of the men were dressed in fine suits, while the women wore dresses, skirts, and blouses that clearly marked them as members of high society. The crowds were typically sized, but seemed to move slower than those in the Marketplace or WestEnd might. They were clearly in no hurry to get back to their jobs or errands.
After a short walk into New Haven, many of those citizens carried bags from the high-end boutiques on Benson Boulevard. Among the many located on the street was Highlife Haberdashery. It was a little larger than some of the stores, but otherwise seemed a good fit for the neighborhood. There was an alley that ran beside it and another building, much cleaner than most alleys were, with an emergency exit to the store leading off into it. If one were inclined to venture further back, they'd stumble upon the loading dock for the back end of Highlife Haberdashery.
For once, the clothing Lirssa was required to wear actually helped her to blend in to the society walking the streets. Perhaps peculiarly dated, but something of retro chic might be the thought others had passing by the young lady. Adopting a straight back, head held high, and confident appearance, incongruous with how she currently felt, she walked along the avenue toward Highlife Haberdashery. This area was not usually her place to roam and wander. Not many abandoned children in need of her help along the streets here. Still, she knew of the shops, and in particular the one she walked to now, because of the people in it.
She had sworn not to speak to Locke D'Vestavio because he had connections, intimate connections, with the Smith family who were on her learn and spurn list. But, Jeb had mentioned him as a hopeful source of help for her current predicament, and if nothing else, maybe he knew how to keep a secret. She was not about to let others know she had gone seeking him out, though, and so at the opportune moment, when most of the passersby had their noses sharply in the air, she took a turn down the alleyway in search of a back entrance.
Most shops had them. They did not want customers seeing the laborers bringing in supplies. That would be ghastly. At the loading dock, the area seemed fairly empty at that time of day. She hoped that the proper use of wall angles and the leading edge of the door, she could slip by any that came out for a smoke or a break. Inside might be another matter entirely, unless she had some decidedly good luck and Locke was in view once she entered. Her luck had not been much on her side the past weeks.
None of the laborers responsible for putting Gerard Smith's clothing together were taking a break on the dock at that moment, nor were there any other watching eyes in the surrounding area. The walls were thick, but a careful ear (or one pressed against the surface) would be able to hear what sounded like a steady hum from inside.
Lirssa liked the feel of the place, or at least, it had the heavy thrumming feel of a giant hive. The door inside was locked, and that meant, she had to play a new role. Not sure how far it would get her, but she had to try. With a mighty knock on the door, she adopted a hurried, frantic look, foot was set to tapping and hands fidgeted. It may have been, she thought in retrospect, just as easy to go through the front door. But, well, she was there now and if nothing else, she'd cause enough of a ruckus to get what she needed in the end.
Slowly, and with a great deal of creaking and groaning, one of the doors opened, revealing a slightly stooped and grey-haired man. He had a very puzzled look on his face, as he muttered to himself. "There shouldn't be any more deliveries this afternoon..." He trailed off, when he saw Lirssa standing there, confusion now giving way to mild concern. "How may I help you, young lady?" With one of the doors now open, the clattering of sewing machines accompanied the hum, adding rhythm to the melody. At the machines sat seamstresses, stitching together dress shirts and trousers. Just barely visible was a familiar blue face, talking to someone beside him who wasn't immediately visible.
"Mister, you gotta let me in, I'm in killer trouble. My master told me tell the delivery boys to deliver ten boxes of mother of pearl buttons, only I think the delivery boys picked up the wrong boxes, and delivered ten boxes of horn buttons. If I don't get this straightened out, he's going to tan my biddlyrumpus. If you could just let me in to see the records so I can make sure the right buttons got delivered, I would be so grateful." Big sweet smile with her best affectation of puppy eyes presented to the old man. Lirssa had projected her voice on certain words in hopes that maybe Locke would hear her.