[Balance Remaining: $657,772,411 78¢]
Philadelphia - Market Street
The streets of Philadelphia were alive with the hum of commerce, a symphony of wheel-rattle, boot-steps, and the polyglot chatter of a city bursting at the seams. It was a place where the Old World met the New, and everyone was trying to sell a piece of it.
Kassandra walked through the crowd, a figure of quiet grace amidst them.
She was alone for the moment. Eleanor had practically wrestled little Hunter away for "Grandma time," and Alaric had retreated to his office to stare at ledgers with the intensity of a general planning a siege.
She wore a dress that was practical yet refined. It was a blue-and-white ensemble… a white linen underdress with long sleeves that breathed in the autumn air, overlaid by a blue dress laced tightly at the front to accentuate her waist. The skirt fell neatly to her ankles, modest enough to blend in with the Quaker sensibilities of the town, yet cut with an elegance that hinted at status without screaming for attention.
She moved with the fluid, dangerous grace of a predator pretending to be a civilian, her amber eyes scanning the stalls not for threats, but for curiosities.
Fine silks from the Chinese Empire draped over tables like liquid gems. Dutch merchants shouted about the richness of their Mocha Blend coffee. Spanish traders haggled over spices.
Despite being a misthios who had lived for thousands of years, who had seen the rise and fall of civilizations, Kassandra couldn't help but look around to shop. There was something grounding about it… the simple, human act of choosing.
"Take a look, take a look!"
A high-pitched voice cut through the noise.
A French merchant was frantically waving his arms, trying to attract the flow of pedestrians. His stall was a riot of lace, velvet, and patterns that made the eyes water. He wiped a bead of sweat from his temple, his desperation was palpable, until his eyes landed on Kassandra.
He paused. He saw the carriage of her head, the quality of her dress, the way the crowd seemed to unconsciously part around her. Money. Taste.
"Madame! Madame!" He waved both hands, beckoning her. "I see that you have a unique sense of fashion! Come, come!"
"Hm?" Kassandra turned her head, her attention snagged. "Yes? Are you French?"
The merchant beamed, nodding his head vigorously. "Oui! Madame, come closer! See my robes, these are top qualité! Straight from Paris!"
Kassandra walked closer, her curiosity piqued. The merchant practically vibrated with excitement. He reached out and snatched a hanger from the rack, thrusting a garment toward her.
"That one is called Robe Volante... the flying dress!" The merchant announced proudly, spreading his arms as if unveiling a masterpiece. He straightened the fabric with reverent care. "Pure silk from Lyon, madame, stitched by the finest hands in France. See how it flows, oui? Très élégant, très rare. Only the best for a lady of distinction such as yourself."
Kassandra leaned in. Her fingers brushed the edge of the dress.
The material was soft, undeniably expensive silk. But the cut... it was billowing, unstructured, designed to hide the figure rather than flatter it. And the colors… a jarring mix of chartreuse and violent pink… clashed so loudly she almost expected to hear them arguing.
She tilted her head, studying it for a moment longer than necessary, trying to find the beauty he saw. She failed.
"It's… certainly something," she said gently, a polite smile curving her lips. "But I don't think it's for me. It is a bit... spirited. I'm sorry."
The merchant froze.
Then, quite suddenly, his face crumpled. It was a transformation so theatrical it would have made a tragedian blush.
"Ah... mon Dieu!"
He clutched his chest dramatically, his eyes glistening with instant, summoned tears. "Madame, please! If you do not at least try it on... my poor sister... she... she will perish!"
He grabbed the hem of the dress, holding it up like a holy relic.
"Sickly! So very sick! This dress... this is her only hope! Without a sale, she will surely die by nightfall! The medicine is expensive, madame! Have mercy!"
Kassandra could only blink.
She watched him for a long moment. She saw the exaggerated heaving of his chest, the carefully angled tear tracking down his cheek, the way one eye peeked through his splayed fingers to gauge her reaction.
She saw right through him. The story was thin as wet paper. There was no sick sister. There was only a bad dress and a slow day.
But beneath the bad acting, the desperation was real enough. He was trying. Trying far too hard to survive in a city of sharks. Philadelphia's food was dramatically cheap, but everything else was a tad bit expensive.
Her smile softened, touched with pity but firm in resolve.
"I'm sorry," she said, her voice kind. She shook her head slowly. "I'll pass on this one. I wish you great luck with your... sister."
She offered him a small, courteous nod before turning away, leaving the merchant mid-wail, clutching his chartreuse nightmare.
As she finished her turn, she raised her brows in surprise.
"Agápi mou?"
It was Alaric.
He stood a few feet away, exhaling a plume of smoke from his cigar, a grin playing on his lips. His figure was so tall that he was an outlier from the rest of the civilians… a mountain in a field of hills. He wasn't wearing his crimson cloak today. He was dressed simply in a white long-sleeved shirt rolled up to the forearms, exposing powerful arms, black trousers, and polished black boots.
"Having trouble?" Alaric asked, stepping closer.
"No," Kassandra immediately shook her head with a chuckle. "The merchant just tried to sell me his dress, but it looked so... bad. Loud."
Alaric raised a brow. He looked past Kassandra to the merchant, who was currently trying to sell the same 'life-saving' dress to a confused Quaker woman.
"Y'know those dresses are proudly worn at the French Empire, right? It's supposedly the height of fashion in Versailles," Alaric noted, amused.
Kassandra mirrored Alaric's raised brow before scoffing lightly. "I don't care. If it's not to my liking, then it's bad for me. Fashion or not."
"Fair..." Alaric shrugged. He reached out, grabbing Kassandra's hand and interlacing his fingers with hers. "So... where should we be?"
Kassandra looked down at their joined hands, then up at him. She smiled at his smooth romance… the way he took her hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world, an anchor in the chaotic street.
"Aren't you busy?" she asked.
"I was busy," Alaric nodded. He looked ahead to the crowd, then back at Kassandra, his blue eyes softening. "Now I'm not. I'm finished for the day. And… it's not everyday I get to spend time with you on the streets like this."
"True," Kassandra beamed. She turned her head, scanning the stalls. She pointed a finger toward a booth draped in colorful fabrics. "Let's go there."
-5 minutes later-
"Let's go there! That wood carving looks fascinating!"
-Another five minutes-
"Hey, look at that! Is that ivory?"
-Another few minutes-
"Agápi mou, wait a second, follow me... let me check that fashionable bag! It has pockets!"
-More time later-
[Money Withdrawal: $211 78¢]
[Balance Remaining: $657,772,200 00¢]
It was now two in the afternoon.
Alaric was a walking pack mule.
He was holding items wrapped in brown paper and string in every available nook of his arms... fabric parcels, small wooden boxes containing tea sets, bundles tied with twine, and a peculiar hat box.
He followed Kassandra, who walked a few steps ahead of him, her hands free, swinging slightly as she hummed a tune.
Kassandra had more than enough money of her own. Her Celestial Bank card… a gold-plated prototype… was always well-funded, courtesy of Alaric quietly depositing tens of thousands of dollars into her account every so often. She could have bought the entire market block without blinking.
Yet whenever they went out together, she always made him pay.
Maybe it was because, to her, it wasn't about the money at all. It was about the small, old-fashioned intimacy of it. It was about letting him trail after her with full hands, seeing his patience, his willingness to be burdened for her sake. It was a simple, wordless ritual that said I'm yours, and you don't mind carrying the weight for me.
He had the means to provide. Money was a number on a blue screen to him. That's why Alaric didn't mind buying for her. But most importantly, he got to see Kassandra smile and let loose.
She was so cute and pretty when her eyes would shine for the next item that piqued her interest. The legendary warrior, the killer of beasts, excited over a scarf. Maybe it was a girl thing. Alaric didn't know. All he knew was getting strong, getting rich, cigarettes, and sex.
Kassandra stopped. Her eyes raised in interest as she saw something across the street.
She turned her head to see Alaric behind her. Then, her gaze dropped to the mountain of packages he was holding. He looked ridiculous, but still handsome.
She became a little shy, a flush coloring her cheeks. She reluctantly pointed at a small, cozy-looking establishment with flower boxes in the windows.
"Agápi mou... let's go there...?"
Alaric raised a brow, peering over a stack of linen. He looked at where Kassandra was pointing. It was a small cafe, smelling of roasted beans and pastries.
He could only chuckle and nod his head. "Let's go, love. I could use a sit-down."
Kassandra smiled and nodded cheerfully as they walked together toward the cafe. She took a peek at Alaric and the things he was holding, then cleared her throat, guilt pricking at her.
"If you want... I can hold some for you," she offered.
"Hm?" Alaric turned his head to Kassandra. He could see her face was embarrassed. "Why? It's all very light. I'm strong, remember?."
"Well, I'm strong too," Kassandra pouted, crossing her arms over her chest. "I can lift a boulder and won't even sweat!"
The blonde didn't know what to say. It wasn't like he was mocking her strength. "...I never said you couldn't?"
Kassandra couldn't take it anymore. She huffed, turning on her heel. She walked fast toward the cafe door.
She grabbed the handle and pulled it open, holding it wide. She gestured for him to enter with a grand, gentlemanly sweep of her arm.
She saw the playful look from Alaric as he approached and just kept her face neutral.
Alaric didn't mind. He passed by the door, the packages rustling.
But after a few steps into the cafe, he couldn't help himself. He snickered silently.
Kassandra heard it. Her demigod hearing didn't miss a beat.
She bit her lip from embarrassment. She balled her fist.
THWACK.
She sucker-punched Alaric right in the butt cheek.
"Ugh!" Alaric winced, stumbling slightly, nearly dropping a box of candles.
A few seconds later, as they approached the counter, he snickered again.
He sensed the shift in the air. Kassandra was winding up for another one.
He walked a little faster toward the Barista, sliding out of range just as her fist swung through empty air.
"Good afternoon!" Alaric beamed at the counter staff.
The barista was cleaning something below the counter. He looked up.
He saw a 6'4 blonde giant holding half the market's inventory. He got shaken for a second. "W-Woah!"
He then saw the beautiful woman who arrived beside the giant. She reached out and pinched the giant right in the side of his stomach, hard.
Alaric didn't flinch. He just continued smiling at the barista, though his eye twitched slightly.
The Barista couldn't help but raise a brow, looking between the beaming giant and the pinching woman.
"What..." the barista asked slowly, "can I get you?"
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