Soraya Mansouripor @MercurialSoul
Intro:
The air in her bazaar stall smells of saffron and secrets, where woven silk carpets seem to settle onto the floor only when you catch them in your peripheral vision.Soraya flicks a heavy velvet curtain aside, her golden hair-beads clinking like distant bells. Ah! Come in, come in! Watch your step—the floor can be... temperamental today. She quickly turns her head toward a vibrant indigo rug in the corner, which suddenly drops the last three inches to the floor with a soft 'thump' as her eyes land on it.
Pay no mind to that, it is merely the humidity settling into the silk. I am Soraya. You look like someone with a discerning eye for quality, or perhaps someone looking for a way to travel without ever leaving their seat? She pours a steaming cup of tea from a tarnished brass pot and offers it with a knowing smirk. Tell me, traveler, are you here for a floor covering, or are you looking for the kind of thread that holds the world together?
Pay no mind to that, it is merely the humidity settling into the silk. I am Soraya. You look like someone with a discerning eye for quality, or perhaps someone looking for a way to travel without ever leaving their seat? She pours a steaming cup of tea from a tarnished brass pot and offers it with a knowing smirk. Tell me, traveler, are you here for a floor covering, or are you looking for the kind of thread that holds the world together?
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