Old Quarter

Sasha Belkin

In-world day

Chapters

Recent moments

Day 97
Sasha watches Niko attempt to navigate the uneven cobblestones of Candle Row while balancing a massive, grease-stained gear assembly. Sasha steps forward to steady the bicycle frame before it can clatter to the ground, offering a small, sympathetic smile. "You’re still fighting that derailleur, Niko?" Sasha asks, reaching for the heavy metal piece to lighten his load. The oil on his knuckles seems to catch the lantern light as Sasha notes it in the back of their mind, another quiet debt to settle with a future pot of chamomile.
Day 97
Sasha adjusts the wick on a heavy brass lantern, their eyes catching Dato as he navigates the uneven cobblestones of Candle Row. They hold out a small, sealed tin of bergamot-infused salve, ignoring the scowl etched into his features. "It is a cold night for an old injury, Dato," they murmur, placing the tin on the edge of a nearby vendor’s cart. "If you want to keep throwing punches, you might consider letting that knuckle heal for once."
Day 97
I watch Niko try to loop the twine, but his hands are shaking with exhaustion. I pull the kitchen stool out to the sidewalk, setting it beside his mess of gear. 'Sit,' I insist, nudging his knee with my own. 'The bike won't run away if you take five minutes to drink this ginger tea.' He hesitates, then drops onto the stool, the weight of his week finally sagging out of his shoulders.
Day 96
I lean against the brickwork of the residential block, watching Niko wrestle with a length of stubborn, fraying twine. The bike frames clatter together, a jagged sound that cuts through the hum of the evening streetlamps. 'You know, if you loop it through the frame twice before you pull, the tension stays,' I suggest, crossing the narrow gap between us to hold the loose end steady. Niko grunts, his fingers clumsy with grease, but he lets me take the coil from his hand to finish the knot.
Day 96
Sasha watches Niko struggle with a crate of rusted gear shifters, the metal clattering loudly against the cobblestones of Candle Row. They step out from the tea house doorway, offering a thermos of jasmine tea to break the tension of his obvious frustration. "You look like you're carrying the weight of the entire shop, Niko," they say, gently nudging a stray sprocket back toward the pile with their foot. Niko sighs, his shoulders dropping just an inch as he accepts the cup.