Salamiski [Main Gates]

A lone figure dressed in a beggar's rags and carrying a worn rucksack strolled through with barely a glance from the guards. Though his face was partially obscured by the kerchief he wore around his head, an act generally demanding suspicion, the gate guards kept their distance for fear of fleas. 

As such, Dmitri entered Salamiski without issue. 
He was on one of his monthly trips for supplies. The great crowds unnerved him as usual, and he kept to the sides of buildings, choosing to trudge through some snowbanks rather than bump shoulders with the shouting civilians in the streets. He hadn't kept track of the days, but today must have been the eve of a feast of some sort.

The faintest sound of melodic humming could be heard as a young girl bustled about the clinic, straightening out her various cabinets. Violet had slept wonderfully last night, having sent home a recovering toddler during the day. He had absolutely refused to sleep through an entire night with his cough, and so he had stayed with her for four days as his mother took a well-deserved rest. This was entirely Violet's suggestion, one that she regretted immediately on the first night. No wonder his mother was so willing to leave the little imp with her. But who was she to turn down a fairly new mother?

Poking through her supplies, she realized her supply of marigold had dwindled. She sighed. The clinic would have to do without her until she returned from the market. On her way out, she grabbed a basket and tucked her sprig of the day - lavender - behind her ear. The weather would make for a nice walk to the city, she thought.

As the door of the tavern creaks open, Erik can hear the gentle murmur of voices, and the sound of a fiddle being played somewhere off in the back. Squinting in the dim lighting, he sees the lanky bartender's face light up, and break into a grin. "Hey, Erik! How's it been? The tavern's been missing you a lot lately."

Smiling amiably, Erik simply nods, setting himself down at the bar and signalling for a pint of ale. The bartender smiles, and within a couple of moments a frothy mug of ale is poured and set before him. "You know, with the festival and all, it's been awful busy here lately. It's good that you've come by, some sanity is always welcome."

Chuckling, Erik takes several sips from his ale. Feeling his chest grow warm, Erik replies, still smiling. "I doubt you'll find sanity anywhere here. Did you see the commotion down by Main? That man, he came by again. The one they say is a spy of some sort. Ridiculous."

While the walk to the market was pleasant, the stalls themselves were not.

The narrow alley that supplied Violet with most of her herbs was nestled behind the rush of people in a rapid section of the main street, made even more crowded by the snowbanks on the side and the rapidly approaching midwinter festivities.

Hiking up the hem of her skirt, she decided she would take her chances in the snowbanks. If cold feet meant getting back to the clinic faster, so be it. Thankfully, she noted, someone had already gone through the snow ahead of her, leaving behind a track of footprints for her smaller feet.

Dmitri began falling to the receiving end of some seriously upsetting stares. This is what he hated about venturing into the cities. 

'Filthy beggar... spies from the South... stowaway... fleas...'
It was nearly funny how every passerby who took a look at him had their own opinion or theory as to who he was. On the other hand, he wouldn't deny that he did indeed have the shabbiest cloak from here to the market, and that his hair stuck out of his hood like the fingers of a dying fern, whether from freezing over or from unwashed grease. 

As a procession approached from ahead, Dmitri stopped in his tracks, recognizing one too many of the guards. He ducked his head, and made to walk back in the reverse direction, hoping to find someone or someplace to use as cover.

Taking a deep gulp of his ale, Erik smiles half-drunkenly as the bartender laughs raucously. Recovering, the bartender coughs, "Well, that's all the time I've got today. Got to take care of some stuff in back."

Nodding, Erik slides the bartender a couple of coins in payment for his drinks. "It's been good to see you, Evan."

Slapping the bar, the bartender brings out a bottle of cider from under the counter. "On the house, for the road, eh? Just make sure to come back soon."

Erik nods in appreciation, grabbing the bottle. Standing from the bar, he hears his name being called from one of the tavern's tables, and his expression grows solemn.

Hmph. Time to talk business.

The snowbanks were definitely a better idea, Violet thought when she saw a particular bargain for textiles go spectacularly wrong. Who knew the dressmaker had such a strong arm. Her shears certainly looked intimidating.

A crowd had gathered to watch, and Violet was forced to squeeze behind a portly man who had taken to the outskirts of the fight — the snowbanks — to get a clearer view. She took care to protect the dried long-stemmed chrysanthemums the florist was hopelessly trying to sell (until Violet stopped by, at least). They were currently nestled neatly in her basket, arranged just so under her care.

When she glanced back up, she found a body occupying the space behind the portly man.

"Excuse me," said Violet to the shabby cloak.

Dmitri was relieved that something had broken out in the street that would surely distract the guards. He could most likely slip away and get back on course unnoticed if he crouched a bit and kept the crowd between them. 

It was precisely why he was caught off guard when a soft voice came from the side, and practically jumped when he met the eyes searching for his.
Taking some time to collect himself, he fumbled out a response, mentally grimacing at how immediately out-of-use his own voice sounded.

"Yes?"

"Woah, is your throat okay?" Violet asked, sidetracked, then remembered herself. "Sorry, I shouldn't pry. I really do need to get by, I can't leave the clinic for too long."

Before she realized what she was doing, she reached into her apron and drew out a small bundle of herbs, menthol and burdock, snapping off a small chrysanthemum bulb and tucking it in as well. With the cold season around, she always prepared mixtures like these in order to exchange for the herbs she needed.

Violet shoved it into the stranger's cloak pocket. "Steep this in hot water for fifteen minutes," she commanded with a physician's authority. "The tea should help with your throat."

Not what he expected, but he accepted the gift gratefully, barely managing a few more words of sandpaper. 
"Thank you."

The crowd ahead them was breaking up, the guards having given a stern warning to both involved parties. The man ahead of them was moving on as well. 
Dmitri stood aside so that the girl could get by, and tugged his hood further down so no one else would be inclined to look at his face. 

So... a clinic huh. He wasn't in the area often enough to notice that there ever was such a place, but it would be reasonable for a city the size of Salamiski to have at least one or two. He had caught a glimpse of the herbs she put away into his cloak, and they were of surprising quality given the time of year. There was additionally good care in how the herbs were prepared and bundled. 
Dmitri made a mental note to take a look for the clinic she had mentioned.

Stepping outside into the harsh winter chill, Erik scowls. Hearing the door shut in place behind him, he turns to the street. He is tasked this week with finding a man named Erres Maglev, and is to "convince" him to pay his debts.

Supposedly he's a blacksmith by trade who owes 200 Kolbasa to a large gambling den. Such a small sum would be easy to reclaim, except they have no address, and the man is nowhere to be found. He has a decent description of the man, however, so a little bit of concentration will likely get him through this one.

Stopping by Main Street, he kneels, and he watches.