Logs:Discoveries
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| RL Date: 27 March, 2015 |
| Who: Edyis, Alida |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: A visit to a rum brewer turns up a link to Alida's past. |
| Where: Minor Hold, South of Monaco Hold |
| When: 27D 5M 37T I10, Spring Afternoon |
| OOC Notes: Feel free to edit, correct, and alter away! This is linked to a personal plot involving Alida's family. |
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| It's more than a seven before Edyis shows up on Ilicaeth's ledge. She's dressed in her trader garb today, the twirly patchwork skirt of bright colors and the deep green tunic that sets off the rusty tones in her complexion. Her hair is bound back by a scarf of similar color. Perhaps it is telling that she suggests cargo netting or straps this trip, but soon they leave the cool spring of Reaches for the southern heat, coming out above Monaco Hold. Edyis indicates the course simply indicating the edges of the field where the ingredients for Terren's brewing are grown, but the craggy outcropping of rock that juts out from the swaths of verdant jungle marks the minor hold proper. A sevenday gives Alida time to prepare, and when Edyis arrives, both women find each other dressed for the 'part'. The bluerider has donned fresh clothing that tends to mark independent traders, the stuff already (and purposefully) marked with signs of the road, such as some dust, some mud upon boots, and even a faint smudge of grit upon skin and *mousey* blonde hair...which is mostly concealed beneath a broad-brimmed, light straw hat with a chin-tie. As the two women ascend upon Ilicaeth's neck, Alida allows her voice to carry back upon the wind to Edyis, "I'm just a good acquaintance uv' yers: Lidia. Independent trader... I sometimes deal with trades between north 'n south." The 'rider is caught between somber seriousness and electrified purpose, her green eyes glinting with unreadable intentions behind their goggles. "Ilicaeth'll land a mile beyond easy view an' drop us off ta walk the rest. Pyrite's gonna be zippin' in and out at times on the periphery uv' wherever we are. Don't give 'er away...she's covered in mud." And so rendered a huge brown to the casual eye. It's when the craggy blue's finally landed and both women are on the ground that Alida slips fully into 'character,' the woman adopting an accent that's a mix of many places, plus a more laid-back way of speaking with her lighter-voiced, "Hope all's...a little better between you and your brother." Edyis laughs when they land, dark eyes dancing, falling into her native Nabolese lilt blended with a richer Monacoan influence. "Perfect; that should give me some stronger ground to stand on. Don't worry too much about Cron. He is apt to be in the fields or checking the irrigation. " She smooths her skirts taking a deep breath, checking the marks pouch on her belt and feeling for the hilt of her knife. Satisfied she leads Alida up a mostly well-worn path, marked with hooves and claws to where the jungle opens to reveal the fields. A lean well-tanned man works over by one of the irrigation ditches, sharp features reminiscent of Edyis's own. However, she angles toward a stout barrel of a man, only a little taller than Edyis herself his face brown and lined with age; pockmarked long ago by some childhood illness. Once dark hair now streaked with silver. "This doesn't look like the bronze rider you promised when you sweet talked me out of that crate of rum Edyis." Terren's gravely voice echoes when dark eyes light on the pair's approach. a kerchief wiped across his brow. "No, but I wouldn't worry too much, old man. I hooked him hard for it; he'll show up. 'He is nothing if not predictable when it comes to fine liquors." She smiles wickedly with that, something of personal pride and affection shining through. "He isn't the only northern contact I have, though; I'd like to take another two crates. One to the Beowin traders, and, as you can see, I've brought someone who can also increase your renown. May I introduce the lovely Lidia, one of the most reliable traders to cross the northern, and southern routes." Lidia. "I'll tell you the same thing I told the squirt, over there. You try to screw me over, and it'll be the whers that gnaw on yer bones." He releases the hand seeming satisfied with the strength of the grip and the calluses. "May not look like much, this small plot, but I promise you, finest Rum you'll ever taste. Now that I got me another hand, we can hopefully beat back that nest of jungle and expand the fields another acre or three before the winter comes." He jerks his chin at the middle aged man working the irrigation ditch. Edyis smiles, sweetly. "You say that every time, and I've not disappointed you once now have I?" Untying the pouch from her belt and tossing it at the man. "The price we agreed on last time is still valid I trust." "I'll make certain I don't, then..." 'Lidia' notes around an affable little grin to Terren after their handshake, the 'trader' casting her green gaze all around in honest appraisal of the Brewer's new plot of land. Rather honestly she states, "I'm looking forward to sampling some of that rum, once you think it's ready." Wink. As for staking out more land from what was once jungle, "Holder must be pleased to have you adding to their prosperity." The pouch of whatever Edyis tosses to Terren is cause for Alida to watch the exchange and murmur, "If your boast is good, we'll both be seein' more of those pouches crossing continents." Traders are in it for the money, after all. Age has not made the man any less agile, were one to judge from the way he catches the pouch in the air hefting it as though judging its weight. "Aye, you are robbing me blind at that though girl." Terren grouses, though his irritation seems mostly feigned. "Yer information pans out wel,l though." His eyes shift then to the lean man, "Better than yer word in that much, at least." His attention shifts back to the blonde with a deep belly laugh. "Aye, It's no small boast but this one can attest, ain't like that weak bilgewater you get outta Ista. Nor like the stuff that will strip paint that comes outta Southern." Pride evident in every word as he draws himself to his full height. "It's the son you'll be wantin' though if it's business to talk. The holder doesn't know good liquor from runner piss, these days, and is happy enough to knock back whatever doesn't make the grade." Edyis just offers her most charming smile and the faintest of eyelash flutters at the praise. Mostly though she seems to let the trader and the brewer talk shop, pretending to pay attention to the plants. Amidst those plants, a dull-brown hided firelizard mostly-hides, 'his' hide looking rather dry and cracking, though his eyes are mostly blue. Mostly, because they hold small blotches of yellow-orange irritation in the occasional facet, the little beast wanting to scratch and rub its coating off, but restrained by a certain blue dragon. Satisfied that nothing bad is happening, the flit soon enough slithers off into deeper plant cover, taking wing only once beyond easy eyeball view. Terren's words of being robbed by Edyis are reason for trader Lidia to grin at her companion, the dusty woman then quieting as she pretends to look beyond them once the older man and candidate have a slightly more personal exchange. Hmm...Cron. Hmm...fields placed here, jungle there, Hold likely over th... "Bilgewater? Now, my good man, the stuff outta' Ista may not be comparable to Benden's red, but I find it palatable enough..." the 'Trader' notes with humored firmness to Terren. The Crafter's words of the family Holding this out-of-the-way place are reason for the mousey-blonde to pay more direct attention, her hatted head bobbing a couple of times at word of the Holder and his son as she cogitates quickly, comes up with, "If I'm not pushin' boundaries too much, might I inquire as to how things stand, in general, with your new home? You know us Traders...careful, but open." Grin. "Nice ta' know if folk like me'll get an ugly look and the boot, 'r an open hand and a meal." Terren eyes the trader, and then looks pointedly at Edyis. "You mean you lured her here without so much as a taste of my craftsmanship?" A beat, "I might have underestimated yer abilities a bit." He sniffs then, tying the pouch to his own belt with a stern look for the trader. "Yer as nosy as the kid over there ain't you." He frowns, then at the dusty trader. "Wouldn't push my luck too much with the holder, the son ain't so bad though. He's pretty friendly with folk, so long as they are business folk and ain't spreadin' any troublesome gossip." For some reason, the brewer eyes Edyis with that statement. "Suppose we'll have to go up that way to get those crates." "I never said a word." The once-scribe almost chirps reflexively, but her attention is elsewhere. Like on the little crawly brown. "I got a tiny taste, but t'was hardly enough..." Lidia notes to Terren before casting an assessing look at Edyis for a moment. Smirk. "Give 'er a little more time, my good man. She'll mellow into her prime like a good wine." For word of the trader being nosy, Lidia gives a fractional bow then a glib, "I usually know when to poke and when to walk away. Usually." Wink. "It's kept me safer instead of sorrier, over the Turns." Word of the Holders and gossip - and that odd look at Edyis - have Lidia quirking her head at the not-Scribe, then letting the comment slide until later. "Well then; since you two have some things to do, and *I* need to meet and greet the Family... Where should I head?" Time to carefully observe and feel things out for the 'trader...' such things best done on her own. The brewer grunts, "My son should be up there. He'll know where the crates are and help ya carry them back." The brewer replies. "Just head directly for the outcropping; the path is roped off. Mind you don't stray far from the path though, The whers don't take kindly to strange folk mucking about." Before turning his attention to the scribe at which point they fall deeply into discussion about trade routes, percentages, and the latest northern gossip. Lidia listens intently to the brewer, giving him the occasional nod as feedback, the woman soon adjusting the hat upon her head, then noting to Edyis, "Unless you've a need to go sooner, I'll meet you back out here. I shouldn't be much more than an hour or so." Given this is a first forray, and that she always prefers to be sparing and safe under such circumstances...or so Edyis should know about her sensei. A moment for the not-Scribe to reply is followed by a little bow for both of them, and then the bluerider is making at a barely-restrained walk towards that roped-off path and the Hold-proper. The path at least is clear of debris though the ropes provide a point of interest, knotted between trees. Occasionally strips of colored fabric mark the rope. Tied on vertically. Green, blue, brown, red, and yellow; they alternate, Marked with symbols. A square for hide and meat, a circle for guards, A triangle for breeding stock, there's even a number of small x's beneath 5 indicating good quality to 1 indicating poor quality and the probability of culling for fertilizer or being sent to the mines. They continue along the path and occasionally one might glimpse dense huts with glowing eyes peering out of the opening. The hold entrance itself is a wide courtyard of volcanic stone, large enough for even a bronze or gold to land, though not lounge. 'Lidia' notes everything she comes across with the eye of a spy - or perhaps a predator - all filtered through the perceptions of Ilicaeth's own consciousness, given that dragons have a superior short term memory, compared to most humans. All the fabrics and their colors, symbols are noted for later perusal. And though the guard has understood - like most other Pernese - that whers are used in ways no dragon of firelizard would ever be, something inside her rebels at the fate of those distant dragon kin...makes Alida scowl darkly for some moments at the reflections of those various wher eyes beyond before she coaches her features and eyes back into neutrality. Might they think of her as Blood, if she is indeed related to those that Hold, here? Unknown. There's noticing of all things about her - means of entrance and exit, thinning of foliage, other details - that might come in handy later, the courtyard's size and mostly-clear pavement gaining both a nod and a faint lip-purse. Dragonriders scowl upon greenery too close to habitation for a good reason. People she passes along the way receive a Trader's affable bob of hatted head and an easy smile...soon quieting as she slowly passes further within. An old bronze with gnarled features and milk-white eyes, lifts his head sniffing at the air to mark her passing; perhaps sensing the touch of his kindred on her, or perhaps a sympathetic spirit given the x marked through his triangle nearby. His head falls back, eyes lidding shut though they no longer see. The people in the courtyard are busy about their work; one man works skinning a green hung from a gallows like device anchored in the stone, deft and skilled as the knife carves away valuable hide. A group of men with ropes and leather collars slung over shoulder, converse about the latest batch of hatchlings; debating whether or not they should cull early since most seem too weak to survive on their own. To the left of them another path, wider and stripped of vegetation leads to a series of caverns where the heat rolls outward visible even in the southern air. The other side of the gallows has another rope path that leads into mostly dense vegetation. The main entry is wide, too. The caverns carved with higher ceilings than some of their northern counterparts, to compensate for the heat. Though whers are not the brightest glows, nor the nicest tempers on Pern, they *are* dragon kin, and do have a certain bond with those they attach themselves to. Keen green eyes take note of the old bronze wher and the 'x' on his triangle...and instantly, an outrage so keen as to make llicaeth snarl savagely a few miles beyond them nearly overcomes her. The woman's eyes glitter with anger, a few glints of moisture beading up within them quickly blinked away as If she stops to look at the creature, who's now lidded his blind gaze. The skinning of the green is met with a bulge of jaw muscles and a set look that her blue lifemate reminds her to quickly rid herself of, lest she prejudice herself to the Holders. Much is disguised beneath the shadow of her hat's brim, but - right now - Alida loathes all of the humans making their home here...loathes the entire human race. Perforce, her quiet smile is a little cracked at the edges as she pulls up before the group of men speaking of the hatchlings, and greets them with, "G'day, gentlemen. May I inquire who that bronze wher looks to?" At least her voice is even, diplomatic, instead of coursing with the fury she feels. « Do *not* lose it in there... » Ilicaeth cautions his outraged rider, applying some of his innate steadiness to Alida's inner fires, granite helping to cool her head a little. Though he doesn't think terribly much of whers, he does understand that they are much as regular animals are to his rider...and that, more importantly, SHE CARES. Very much. (Ilicaeth to Alida) It's one of the younger men, clear eyes and sandy hair who answers with a dimpled smile. He can't be much older than 15 "Which bronze, ma'am? I am responsible for Fishface, and before you make a face, my kid brother named him. Because his nose was all squished when he first hatched, but he's in the training pens at the moment." That dimple makes her want to punch him the fuck out...but instead of indulging reckless rage, 'Lidia' (for once) stifles herself, and responds with a neutral, "The scraggly-faced one with the white eyes. What's he being trained for, lad?" Trying to lose herself in her current identity, Alida searches for some kind of answer to what she thinks is going on, here. Beyond her, in a tangle of greenery, a red-eyed Pyrite chews upon a vine beside the one her muddy body clings to. The dimples fade instantly. "That's Orisk, and he looks to Orris, but I wouldn't go looking for Orris, if I were you. He's out drunk, gathering fellis fruit. Poor guy; Orisk and he have been together for longer than I've been alive; Orisk sired the best whers. He's too old though, barely moves anymore, couldn't get to his food bowl this morning." The kid frowns more deeply. "Orris didn't want to see him starve to death, so he went to pick a bunch of fellis fruit. Hate to see it happen but that's life." With an internal sigh, Alida feels the tightness of her rage partially dissolve as 'dimples' explains the lay of the land to her, a profound sadness flowing through her as she turns her head to look back at the decrepit bronze for a long moment. Back in control of herself, Lidia returns her gaze to the youth, nodding a couple of times at him. "That's a kinder way than most. He's a decent man." Sigh. "Thank you." And, without preamble, the woman resumes her walk, though, as she passes the elderly bronze wher, the softest whisper of, "Sleep well, Orisk. You did well..." is offered to him, the bluerider stepping a little more quickly into the Hold. Once in the main cavern the people grow less frequent, most outside or tending to their charges, a bubble-shaped cavern opens wide. A set of stairs carved to the left and right following the natural course of the stone before veering off to the left or right respectively. The main tunnel goes onward and down a little deeper, and there is a sense of a cool draft from that direction. Glow baskets line each of the pathways though the ones to the left stairs seem more recently replaced. She follows both logic and instinct on her way further inside, the encounter with the whers and their handlers leaving Alida a little off-balance, though she strives to quickly recover what was upset. This is too damned important to her to risk. The 'trader' chooses the left set of stairs, keeping her shadowed eyes alert for those who can point her in the proper direction, as well as for various signs of whatever she might run across. The stairs lead upward until it veers left into a tunnel, and this too slopes upward. Rugs of woven strips of wher hide line the corridor, and tapestries, woven more thinly than one sees in the north line the hall. The glows continue to get brighter until the tunnel opens up into a larger cavern. Here beds and trunks are arranged in optimal space, and two chattering women work at replacing the glows a huge bucket of them at hand. "Again? You'd think Kelvar would learn not to sniff around blooded. women, or at least he would know better than to bother with the major holds." One screechy voiced matron whispers, in a whisper that is not whispering. "Well he has his ambitions you know, First the three new tanners from the hall who all accepted posts, and now he's got that brewer and his son. As if Varad didn't have enough temp-" The thinner woman looks then at Alida, clamping her mouth shut. It certainly helps to look innocuous and to cultivate a habit that allows one to blend in better. Alida is rewarded for her efforts to be just another face with the fruit of gossip from those 'in the know,' a certain satisfaction combining with her need to know to help the rider overcome the emotional hurdle of the whers. Once she's been seen, 'Lidia' sweeps a bow to the two women, and lips off a winning, yet casual, "My good ladies, I'd very much appreciate it if you could point this flummoxed Trader to heir Kelvar. I've introductions and possible business to attend with him." The larger woman with a pinched face just harumpfhs. "He is off at the Weyr. He's been there quite a bit, lately, since it's the easiest way to get to the northern gathers, and he's been on the prowl for a bride, as it were." As if disgusted by the thought of a northerner being shuttled south. The taller and thin faced woman waves off a hand, "He's not off womanizing; he's just trying to see if they can arrange for a watch rider now that the hold has grown so much. Broad Leaves hold Hold may be small but we've grown vastly under Kelvar's care." More grapevine 'delights' are reason for Alida to internally scribble the women's information upon her own and Ilicaeth's brains, while 'Lidia' slimply nods a couple of times, and notes crisply, "Well then; may I meet with holder Varad, instead? I'm sure that his attendance is just as weighty as his heir's." Smile. The women stare at each other a moment, frowning. They turn back to look at Alida, and glance back at each other, gawping like fish out of water for air. Finally, it is the thin-faced one who answers. "Down the main hall, probably in the storerooms testing Terren's latest batch. But..." The fat woman with the pinched face finishes for the other woman. "You didn't hear it from us." Inside the (relative) privacy of her own mind, Alida is about a surprised as possible that she's been given the proverbial keys to the car by two strangers, while 'Lidia' simply smiles at the pair and murmurs her earnest, "Thank you, ladies. I'm the soul of discretion." Beat. "Have a lovely day." And off she goes towards her goal, backtracking and then taking the main hall route. Along her way, a muddy firelizard zips inside to check things out, and then chirples at the hatted blonde before zipping back outside. Good thing firelizards are much more common, down South. The deeper down the main passage one travels, the more noticeable the coolness becomes. A welcome relief to some who seek shelter from the heat. Periodically tunnels open to the left or right but it isn't long before one to the left boasts a particularly solid Fellis wood door. Muffled voices can be heard from the other side but not clearly enough to make out the conversation. It is with a thunderous crack that something impacts that heavy door sending it to swing wide open, and another wooden object gets sent flying after in the hallway, causing the brewer to duck, but leaving a view of the storeroom. Crates are in disarray and look as though they've been rifled through. A man stands, bellowing, more mountain than man, champagne hued hair streaked with grey and pale eyes near bulging from their sockets. "If you don't tell me where the rest of my liquor went, so help me you won't wake up tomorrow boy." The brewer seems pretty used to such threats from the way he neatly sidesteps the drunk. "I already explained sir, the particular crate you are looking for was delivered to your study over three hours ago. If you would just...go look." Turning to face the splotchy faced holder, calmly. Holy shit! Ducking that incoming object as it impacts the door gives Lidia reason to exclaim a low, "Shit!" though the roaring of the Holder allows time enough for her to also observe his big-ass self to observe him and his looks. Blink, stare. And from somewhere in her revved mind, 'Lidia' manages to come up with a very firm, almost soldierly, "Your study...sir. It's in your study." Maybe he's too used to hearing the younger Crafter's voice, or perhaps the man isn't used to hearing someone be 'strict' with him. Out of the room she points, trying to make things clearer to the sot. Renae's eyes go wide at the mousy haired woman, but he can't move fast enough to get between her and the giant barreling toward her. "Who the fuck do you think you are!" The Holder bellows, 'prepared, it seems, to...get into her face if necessary. "This is my hold; you can get out." He reeks of alcohol and sweat, his breath is equally foul. Well, she had to try. Alida's dealt with enough pissed-off drunks in the past to know that some react well to authority, while others... Yeah. As the Holder seeks to get up in her grille, 'Lidia' holds her ground (though her stance shifts subtly to allow her to get out of the way quickly, if necessary), and notes just as firmly to the Holder, "I'm here as an independent Trader, Holder. There are people who'd enjoy those liquors your Hold is starting to produce. It would mean profit, and a richer supply for you." Can she get through to him? "Get out of my hold. If I see you again, you're dead." He growls in her face pushing past to storm down the hall in the direction of his study, startling a pair of laundresses on the way. Renae looks at her then after the man has left, with a low appreciative whistle. "You are some kinda crazy lady, you know that? I thought he was going to hit you, which would have been bad for Kelvar. He's going to be pissed about this." Scrubbing at the back of his neck brows furrowed. "Give him a seven or two and he won't remember. Shit I'd be surprised if he remembered tomorrow morning. Didn't anyone tell you to take any business matters to Kelvar? Edyis should have told you at least that much." 'Lidia' has the presence of mind to look properly consternated at the death threat from the Holder as he barrels his way out towards his study, the woman then puffing a 'relieved' breath out at Renae, and smiling thinly. "I've been called such, yes. I just know my way around..." A handwave in the departed man's direction. People like *him*. A firm nod for the Crafter's words of the bigger man ultimately not remembering transitions into her sigh and bob of head, though the 'trader' notes, "I heard the heir wasn't here... and I can't linger too long. So I thought I'd try him, even if..." Ahem. Renae runs a hand through dark hair, sighing. "Look, just wait for Kelvar next time, or hell if it's important enough Varan isn't completely useless. The holder though, he hasn't been right in a long time. Best to avoid him really." He exhales again, eyes shifting to the crates. "Edyis left with a crate of twenty last time; didn't think she'd be back so soon." he murmurs, shifting the crates until he locates a stack of them beneath less... palatable items. "How many crates?" "I'll remember that. Thank you," Lidia notes honestly to Renae, then noting smoothly enough, "I think she needs only four, this time." A small shrug from the trader is followed by her, "If you and your father continue to only increase the quality, I wager you'll soon enough have more rareified palates yearning to taste your product." And that's where *she* comes in...even if she's not an honest-to-Faranth businesswoman. Having a dragon and relevant contacts can go a decent ways to smoothing paths. "Four." He sounds rather surprised by that. "That's going to be a fun haul." Stacking two and setting them in one neat stack before grabbing two himself. "Some day they will invent lighter glass. Think you can manage?" He asks eyeing her skeptically for a moment. "I can get a few of the boys to help carry them back." "We do what we must..." Lidia notes with a grin, then moving over to try her hand at one of the cases. Honestly, Alida could haul both with some extra grunt work because of their encumbrance factor, but she can't allow anything of her true nature to be glimpsed. So, though it galls her enough, judiciousness and caution win out, and have her saying to the crafter, "I can get one of them. Just one extra should be fine." Up she hefts the crate, allowing a grunt to issue from her lungs, as if she's working hard to do this, instead of just moderately. Renae lets out a sharp series of whistles, into the hall to echo, and wouldn't you know it? In a matter of several minutes, "Dimples" is back. "Whatcha need Renae?" The kid rubs his nose against a sleeve, "I got maybe thirty minutes before I gotta rub down Fishface, and Lady Longbottom and then we gotta go down to the hatchling pens." There's a grimace at the last. "Grab the other crate would you? We got a larger order than I expected so soon." Renae asks politely. "And make it snappy, I don't want to walk Lidia out that road after dark when they start getting testy." Ahh yes... 'Dimples' again... and his presence brings back the sorrow over Orisk, though 'Lidia' hides it inside, along with a list of others. "Thank you..." the 'trader' notes to the man-child, then inquiring of him again, "Why the sour face?" At his word of the hatching pens. Once they're on their way, Alida makes certain to not walk too easily, and thus be found out as being able to bear her load untroubled. Renae looks at the woman when she enquires of the hatchlings, but he doesn't say much, leading them down the tunnel and through the courtyard. Orisk's place is empty, the strip of fabric gone. The kid frowns, glancing back over his shoulder as they pass with a shake of his head. "Ain't natural, whers bonding like that. Does funny things to people. Makes the work harder." "Shouldn't say things like that, Pirrin. Orris wanted to be a rider all his life, but never impressed. He started working here when he got to be too old to stand at the Weyr. You'd never seen a man so happy when that ugly little bronze nosed at him." Renae chides the kid, though he does glance over knowingly between the woman and the kid. "Don't imagine he'll be back again though." Orris or Orisk, Renae doesn't clarify as the path leads through the thick jungle. Glowing eyes brighter now in the dusk. Watching. And once more, Alida must grit back the inner flow of empathetic misery felt for that barely-known bronze wher and his erstwhile human bondmate, the woman letting the whole subject slide as she tries to distract herself with the efforts of her lugging extra weight around. Try though she may, however, the implications upon the air - and her thoughts of her own bond with Ilicaeth, even Pyrite - almost forcing from the 'trader' a low, "Do only a few of them...bond? Like dragons and riders?" Those glowing eyes in the growing dark seem to inspire more brooding within Alida than fear, though she *is* careful. Few people ever survive a wher mauling. "You know why people adore dragons and dislike whers, miss?" The kid offers somewhat rhetorically before continuing. "It ain't that they are ugly though that might be part of it. Whers can impress, but they don't need people the way dragons do. They go wild, go feral and survive just fine in the jungles. They don't think like dragons 'neither. Steward got pretty severely mauled by a green last turn. He didn't make it." Those eyes seem more plentiful now, still watching, judging or perhaps waiting, for an easy meal. The clearing opens. A small bonfire has Terren, sitting with Cron, Orris, and Edyis, cups in hand and an open bottle nearby. "You know why people adore dragons and dislike whers miss?" The kid offers somewhat rhetorically before continuing. "It ain't that they are ugly though that might be part of it. Whers can impress, but they don't need people the way dragons do. They go wild, go feral and survive just fine in the jungles. They don't think like dragons 'neither. Steward got pretty severely mauled by a green last turn. He didn't make it." Those eyes seem more plentiful now, still watching, judging or perhaps waiting for an easy meal, as the clearing opens. A small bonfire has Terren, sitting with Cron, Orris, and Edyis, cups in hand and an open bottle nearby. "She's listening, and rather intently, at that, to 'Dimples,' Alida nodding once to his words of whers, then finally muttering mostly to herself, "Nothing wrong with that." As for word of that unfortunate Steward, there's a faint wince, then a click of teeth, as though she might be biting back whatever was almost said...a heavy puff given when they break through to the little group out in the clearing. Making a small face and looking like she's a bit winded, 'Lidia' huffs to Edyis and company, "We're back, as you see." Terren counts. "You only paid for the two, Edyis," the man squinting between her and the "trader" with a rap of his knuckle against the empty crate that has become his seat. Renae looks... disappointed. "Nita didn't come with you this time?" Heartbroken, clearly. A dark brow lifts skyward as Edyis counts those crates, though she still recovers smoothly. "The two I wanted were the same as I mentioned before. Can I help it if your wares are so wonderful that you've already attracted my companion's eye?" Cue the innocent look, and the higher, sweeter tone of voice. "Nita wasn't available, this time around. She sends her regards." Whether or not the greenrider knows it. As for Pirrin, he mostly scuffs his foot and avoids eye contact with Orris. Sigh. Even Ed won't cover for her old sensei. "I'm willing to forward these brews of yours on merit alone...even though it might hurt my reputation and belt pouch if they don't live up to your boast, Brewer Terren." Lidia speaks with some bit of her usual jocularity, though there's hints of firmness in her gaze as it settles upon the older man. Unspoken: is he willing to work with her and provide a bit of a discount to see more of his product out sooner on the Trader market, or will he be greedy? Nita? Whoever this might be is unknown to Alida, but all Lidia does is smile quietly and remain silent, her gaze shifting subtly to Orris, where her expression turns more pensive. Terren eyes the trader, eyes still narrowed, those knuckles rapping against the crate. He grunts, giving Edyis a look. His arms fold across his chest, and he looks to the fire. "Rightly out of any master of the hall, what's in those bottles should reasonably fetch a mark, two at most." He scratches at his chin. "Now, as the kid figured out, I don't do well with Hall politics. I barely managed to hang on to my knot after my last run in. So I'll let it go at say... ten marks." Alida doesn't have that kind of money in her slush fund anymore, and so Lidia must offer a deep sigh and a twist of lips that turns into a regretful, "I'm sorry, Brewer; even a trader has a limit to the depths of their pockets. And I'm an independent, at that." There's a pause to consider something, then a meek-sounding, "Do you sell them by the bottle?" Her hands spread up, fingers splaying wide, as if she cannot help her own monetary misfortune. Edyis coughs a little softly. "Terren, I know that's your going discount, but maybe you could make a tiny exception? Especially since Lidia over there is especially acquainted with the person who does much of the ordering for the Dice at Fort." Edyis tilts her head at Alida then, giving up her personal bargaining chip for her sensei. If that isn't devotion what is? Orris eyes the trader too, frowning. "Ah come on Terren, they'd just as likely to be drunk by that holder otherwise, least till Kelvar gets his pappy under control. Whatcha got on ya miss?" Orris is actually talking? After the death of his bond mate? Lidia's somewhat surprised expression is turned upon the man, green eyes soon shifting between the holders before she answers Orris with a quiet, "3 and a half marks. Couldn't get any potential buyer backing this first time, so I had ta' scrape together the last bits of my money not already caught up in business deals." She sounds sorry for that (honest) fact, but settled upon the 'tragedy' of it.
Terren himself shakes his head sighing at the man. "Orris." But one look from the old wher handler silences him quick enough. "Fine, but know that I object to this kind of flippant spending on your part." Edyis herself seems surprised by the turn of events but doesn't say much about it, looking at Alida oddly as though trying to glean just what the old hand is talking about. She takes the two crates from Renae, grunting with the effort, but managing if just barely.
Orris for his part studies the woman, and there's the faintest hint of his sorrow in his expression. It is a wordless thanks, but there all the same, and he accepts the bottle. "Come on kid." He says to Pirrin, "Day's work isn't done yet." The pair fading back into the jungle. Edyis gives her customary farewell, before heading in the direction opposite at Alida's urging. Ready to be back at the weyr with their spoils, on the flight back, though curious, she doesn't ask Alida what the old wher handler was talking about, figuring the woman would talk about it, if she wanted to. |
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