Logs:Of Bargains Made
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| RL Date: 9 September, 2006 |
| Who: Harley, Jendayi, R'hin |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| When: Day 26, Month 1, Turn 9 (Interval 10) |
| Your location's current time: 16:05 on day 26, month 1, Turn 59, of the Tenth Pass. It is a winter afternoon. Lower Caverns(#1090RJs) Heavenly scents of the afternoon meal wash in from the busy sounds of the Living Caverns; this large cavern is abuzz with activity as people stop work to go eat, return to work, or merely pass through on their way on any of a number of errands. The sounds of children playing rings throughout the cavern, mingled with the laughter of those who have stopped to talk, or to help out with a task. The sunlight has reached its zenith and begins the slow, gradual descent downwards as light begins to cast longer golden shadows along the cavern's floor. Passageways lead off in many directions around the cavern, forming a nexus of sorts. An archway opens up into the bowl; a wide tunnel leads out of the weyr; a well worn set of stairs rise up to the living quarters of the Weyr staff; and sounds and smells from the south indicate the presence of the Living Caverns and Kitchen. Contents: Jendayi Obvious exits: Storeroom Corridor LIving Cavern Bowl Water Cavern Kitchen Resident Quarters Tunnel out of the Weyr INFirmary It should be no surprise that R'hin's to be found in the inner caverns - he seems to have rather an aversion to the crowded noise of the living caverns. The bronzerider's found himself a seat against one wall, out of the way and easily overlooked, a hide propped up on one raised knee. A charcoal stick hovers over the hide, pale eyes flicking back and forth as he watches the passersby with a purse of lips, as if looking for something in particular. "And are there guards set on dry stores? We appreciate the space but don't want to provide additional temptation to any sticky fingers that may wander by." That would be Jendayi, accompanied by one of the storeroom workers. The trader lass is more quietly attired this day and is holding a thin scroll of hide-- a marker for the wares the Weyr has so generously provided storage space for. That she may have just offered up an insult to her hosts seems beyond the young woman; her grin for the fellow doesn't waver even when his cautious but polite stare turns glower. "Ah, and if I may ask, would you have heard of a certain cave that..." But elaboration isn't possible, as the aide gives a grunt and turns to retreat the way they came. Jen is left at a loss, head cocked and expression gone puzzled, until that look clears upon catching sight of R'hin. "There you are!" The familiar voice is enough to draw R'hin's attention, the bronzerider's lips twitching as he shamelessly eavesdrops on the aborted conversation. "Here I am," he agrees, indulgently, a hand lifting and spreading as if the words need to be accompanied by some sort of fanfare. "I see you're winning friends and influencing people, Dijilia," the observation is more amusement than accusation, hands brushing against his pants to clear the charcoal from it. Jen makes quick work of closing the distance between them, sliding into a loose crouch before the rider and letting her hands dangle down between her knees. "That would be the story of my life, rider. And you?" Irrepressable, she tilts her head in a blatant attempt at snaring a glance at whatever's been sketched out over the hide's surface. "I had been under the impression that hidework is traditionally completed at tables. Or is it custom for riders to stretch out any which where, hoping to be tripped over?" "Much the same," R'hin concedes the verbal riposte with gracious amusement, a low chuckle punctuating the statement. He doesn't make any attempt to conceal the hide, but he does slowly roll it up - not before the trader has ample opportunity to spy the rather oddly-pictured face of one of the lower caverns residents, the proportions of the depiction all off. The head is -far- too large for the body, a seemingly deliberate exaggeration. "Haven't you heard? I'm all about bucking the traditions," pale eyes flicker upwards to focus on the woman, irrepressible glint visible as he tucks the charcoal stick away into his pouch. "Perhaps," he adds, "I wish to be tripped over by a pretty woman. Then I can claim it's fate, coincidence, happy luck-- ecetera." The hint is taken, leaving Jendayi to politely cast her gaze elsewhere once the motion is made to tuck the sketch away. She settles on regarding the man himself, smile turned to grin and grin gone amused. "You still have the lines but your delivery could use some work, I think. Too many Turns without practice, perhaps, but my legs are still steady and my heart unmoved," she tells him. "So long as you aren't wrapped up in official business though, would you care to see the clothes I've set aside for you, rider? I chose carefully, I promise. Nothing garish." "I was hobbled by the unfortunate turn of Impressing," R'hin admits, a long-suffering sigh and a lift of eyes towards the roof, all exaggerated. "My skills went rather rusty, I fear. Perhaps you'd be a willing practice subject?" he suggests, eyes focusing back on the trader, one corner of his lips twitching. "I have tried my wiles on our very cool junior weyrwoman, though I'm afraid the lady of the spires tends to be unmoved by my platitudes." One hand braces against the wall as he rises, head tipped down solicitously. "Official?" he echoes, with bland tones. "Very little chance of that, lady trader. You've my sole attentions," he adds, with tip of head that is almost bow, not quite concealing the half twitch of lips. Harley strolls down the stairs from the residents' quarters. Harley has arrived. Jendayi's own eyes go round and rapt at this performance, an expression ruined only by the faint niggle of amusement that lingers around the corners of her lips. "Not bad, not bad. But I...ah. Did you say the cool junior weyrwoman? The one fond of dark colors?" She reaches up to scratch idly at her wide chin, gaze gone sideways as she considers this information. The trader is crouched off to the side before one seated-to-standing bronzerider, R'hin's back to the wall and Jen's back to the nearby corridor. "Now, see, that had the ring of honesty in it and was far more convincing than the business with your eyes," she adds, grinning again as she rises with him. "Speaking of, you are not afraid of the color blue, are you? That, at least, is safe?" Though he undoubtedly knows the reaction is put-upon, R'hin's nevertheless pleased, low chuckle emanating from him as he tucks away the rolled up hide. "Indeed, I speak of our Satiet," a faint hint of possessiveness in the words, but likely it's simply the possessiveness of a bronzerider for one of his Weyr's goldriders. "I do have my moments," he concedes a beat or two later, one hand outstretched as if to assist Jendayi as she rises - not that she appears to need it. The gesture seems almost absentminded, hand dropping back to his side a moment later. "Blue? I've no issues with blue, indeed not. To match my eyes, perhaps? I hear that phrase often, though I don't give it much credit. I do like to think I've an open mind, however-- you may do with me what you wish." Hands spread out, the entendre deliberate. Harley comes walking up from the storage caverns, scribbling on a piece of hide against the palm of her hand. Tucking the hide into her pocket she finally looks up at the sound of voices, catching only the last phrase of what R'hin is saying. A single eyebrow goes up but she only smiles in greeting. "Hello." a nod to Jendayi. "R'hin, what are you doing back here? Do you need something from stores?" The question is simple an honest. She hasn't seen the rider in the lower caverns in ages. Eyes return to Jendayi, "I'm Harley if we haven't met yet. Assistant to Thiana." "Some offers are better not made, R'hin." Not that Jendayi appears disinclined to take advantage of such generosity-- the use of his name indicates a familiarity that, while improper, is fueled by both amusement and an appreciation for the man's quick tongue. "I will have to consider how best to put you to use. For now though, I'll settle for seeing you out of those clothes, and into the set I've chosen for you. Have you been told to match your eyes? Rubbish. Complement, always complement. A shade of sea-blue to...ah!" Attention is stolen by Harley, first for the room she's come from and then for her identity. "Yes, I believe we met some time ago, in the bowl? You had an interest in the cobalt goblets. May I beg a favor, lady? I have wares being stored in there and a marker here..." She flourishes the scrap of hide. "And a rider to outfit with some of them. Could you lead us to textiles?" R'hin's hands drop, gaze travelling to Harley with easy, unrepentant smile - even at that eyebrow. "I believe the appropriate term is 'loitering'," he confesses. "And unless you've a stash of vintage Benden white in your stores, I've no pressing need going unattended." Jendayi's retort draws his attention swiftly back to the trader, low amusement in his voice as he counters, "And some offers simply -have- to be made. You are, after all, of trader stock. It's only fitting I help out." The wry tone makes it clear that's not the only reason, but it is at least bland, socially acceptable one. He seems, if anything, bemused by the talk of clothes, hands dropping easily into his pockets as he awaits Harley's response. A snap of the fingers. "Ah yes, that's right. I wound up distracted by something completely unrelated and they slipped my mind." Harley answers. R'hin gets a look for his answer, lips twitching slightly. "Of course." turning back to Jendayi, she adds "I can take you back to the storage cavern. It's right this way." and she turns and starts back in the direction she came from. Harley strolls into the storerooms. Harley has left. Jendayi walks into the storerooms. Jendayi has left. You stroll into the storerooms. Central Storerooms(#17755RJM) Though certain of the Weyr's supplies are stored at the places where they are used, most are kept here, in the central storage complex. A series of caverns grouped around a central corridor, the complex is cut on the grand scale necessary to hold all the items a full and active Weyr needs. You're currently in the main corridor, wide and tall enough to admit a laden wagon. The walls are lined with heavy wooden doors, their wide spacing evidence of the size of the rooms behind them. Each of the doors features a posted inventory and map of its room's contents, and there are small piles of returned items beside several, waiting until someone has the time to reshelve them properly. There is a set of hardwood shelves available on a space of wall between two of the doors where people can place items when they are not sure which storeroom they belong in. Scanning the door signs, you note cold stores, dry food stores, rooms for textiles and furnishings, the records room, and the supply closet. To the south, the corridor opens out to the lower caverns. Harley and Jendayi are here with you. (Places code and +views (see '+view information'!) are implemented here.) Contents: Jendayi Harley Obvious exits: Lower Caverns Jendayi's gaze steals back to R'hin, her breath catching on a chuckle. "Kindred spirits," she says, reply for the man's generosity. Subtle undertones color the tone of the response, amusement lurking beneath the words that have little to do with the current conversation. Then she's off, summoned to follow in Harley's footsteps. "Sun and sky, there's little dawdling around here..." It takes a trot to bring her to heel with the Steward, unrolling the marker and squinting at the smudged numbers writ thereupon. "If you've a mind to purchase them still, I have them with our other goods. Then you two will have made the day a profitable one for me, and I can retire to the hearths. I've developed a taste for the spiced cider here." "I think I fulfil our dawdling quota, thus everyone else in the Weyr must go where they intend, immediately and without delay," R'hin's amusement matches Jendayi's, trailing close behind the woman, quiet pleasure in the trader's comment unvoiced but perhaps visible in the jaunty way in which he steps in. Harley chuckles. "A lot of people like the cider. I enjoy the wine more." a look slants to R'hin. "Particularly Benden when the Weyrleaders want to celebrate and feel generous." and she shrugs, pointing to the cavern the traders supplies are in. "Right over here." She opens the heavy door and points to one side. "There's the caravans supplies." She has a thoughtful expression on her face. "It's true those goblets are beautiful but I doubt I have the marks for them. I'm only an assistant after all." and she shrugs. "Oh, ho. The lady speaks of profit already, and the goods are as yet unsighted. Confident, I see." R'hin's low voice is deliberately teasing, manner casual as he trails after the two women, pausing to lean against a convenient shelf as when they stop. Harley's comment receives a dry look. "And how often does -that- happen? Ah, well. Perhaps I can convince M'wen that a trip to Benden and the winecraft is in order in the near future." Jendayi slides past the other female, easing past with a grateful smile. Once in the proper room, she seems to remember where the Dijilia's wares are being stored and veers off to the right, towards a set of shelves tucked in the corner. Bottom shelf, of course, combined boxes and what look like rucksacks. "They would be an investment, true enough. But well worth the cost. I might be persuaded to lower the price slightly as well, if you swear on your firstborn to never tell Vertai." Down on one knee, Jen has begun to go through the 'sacks, but has concentration enough to send a conspirator's grin off towards Harley and then past her, to R'hin. "Has there ever been a timid trader? That survived?" Harley just looks at R'hin. One of those 'you had to say something' looks as well as appearing torn between how to spend her hard earned money. "Okay, I can either ask you to pick me up a couple skins when you do that or I can get the goblets but drink regular old Reaches or Tillek." and her nose twitches in distaste. And to Jendayi, she adds "I can't swear on my firstborn. His father would have my hide instead." her lips twitch, not in a smile, at the image that conjures in her mind. R'hin's low chuckle answers Jendayi's comment, grin touching his lips as arms fold across his chest. Pale eyes linger on the crouched trader - flickering past her to the wares and back again. "I've not met one as yet, but I still hold out hope." It's hard to tell if he's being facetious or not, expression giving little indication either way. A brow twitches upwards at Harley, easy comment offered, "Perhaps a bronzerider would be just as... generous as our Weyrleaders? With incentive." The last is dry, accompanied by curl of lips. "A shame. Vertai wields a wicked whip and I am fond of my own skin." Jendayi's sigh speaks volumes, mourning the deal lost due to Harley's mate. "Unless there's something else you'd care to swear on," she continues a second later, and the good cheer in her tone paints the earlier sorrow as a lie. Perhaps her mood has been restored by finding the bag she'd been looking for- at the very rear of the shelf, of course- and opening it to reveal a number of sisal-wrapped rolls. One is extracted, a thick bundle of charcoal, and cradled like an infant as she stands to undo the wrappings. Each tug of the darker fabric reveals something peacock-bright and glittering beneath. "A taste for the timid and a dislike of colors...the Weyr *does* corrupt. Now, this is like to have some wrinkles..." Both eyebrows are up now. "Your the one who implied the Weyrleaders aren't generous often." she answers R'hin. "And exactly what kind of incentives are you talking about?" Harley's tone is slightly flat when she asks this. "If it's what I think your talking about, forget it. I don't do incentives." The eyebrows are back down. Way down into a frown as a mutter 'old auntie sit by the fire - too mouthy' At least, that's what it sounds like. "Unless you are said bronzerider and you have a different incentive in mind. Then I might be willing to at least listen. Maybe." "The trader has my number," R'hin comments, tone bland, not in the least convincing. He pushes away from the shelf, stepping closer as some of the folds of material catch his eye, brows flickering upwards. "Wrinkles," he states, "Are about the least of my worries." Harley receives a wide-eyed look, one hand touching his heart. "Harley, I'm shocked. To imply I'd take unfair advantage of you! I'm hurt." He doesn't, however, dispute it, sauntering closer to Jendayi, peering over her shoulder. Jendayi, ever perceptive, finally notices the undercurrents passing between bronzerider and assistant steward. She pauses in fussing over the clothing being unwrapped and glances between the pair, feathery brows lifted high over her eyes. "Am I interrupting negotiations for a liasion?" The girl sounds terribly interested, if that's the case. "You are all so delightfully open. Why, the other day, down by the baths, I saw..." Some latent instinct prevents her from giving voice to just what she happened to catch sight of, choosing instead to interrupt herself, clear her throat and then continue on shaking out the garments. "Yes. Three pieces, here. The loose trousers, you'll find them comfortable enough. A long outer tunic with raised collar, and of course the shawl..." All three are that brilliant blue-green sisal, heavy stuff, with the tunic-jacket worked with a lattice of tiny gold and blue beads that cover the entire length. Harley snorts. "Right." is all she says. Shaking her head, leaning against a crate near the other two. Her reaction to Jendayi is a blink. "Uh, no. There is no way in this weyr, in all Pern, I'd wind up in a liaison with him." and a finger emerges from her crossed arms to point at R'hin. Her sense of humor suddenly returns "Besides, my back would never survive the hammock." she adds, eyes sparkling. Her smile reappears as she gets a good look at that outfit. "Now there is something different. Should look good on you, R'hin. Sparkly." "Certainly not," R'hin counters, though his voice lacks outrage; he seems more amused at the assumption than anything. "A favor owed is a much better currency." A dry look is given Harley, as he retorts, "You needn't sound so horrified by the prospect, Harley. I might actually take offense." Though that does seem unlikely for this particular bronzerider. He doesn't seem particularly interested in whatever Jendayi saw, allowing the unfinished comment to pass unhindered. "Shawl?" he echoes, bemused now, the clothing eyed somewhat dubiously. "I suppose I should at least give it a try," he concedes, though seems doubtful of the choice. Shrugging out of his jacket, he begins unbuttoning his shirt, apparently unconcerned about the niceties of public indecency - even in front of their visitor. "Really?" When Harley stabs a finger at R'hin, Jendayi follows that gesture to study the fellow. She affects a puzzled stance. "I was misinformed, then." Dark eyes slide back to the other woman and crinkle at the corners, a flash of amusement that's quickly hidden. "Ah, you have an eye for clothes? Good, you can tell him how stunning he looks when I've finished with him. Here, will you hold these? Mind the slippers." Slippers? The curly-toed items come close to tumbling out of the shawl as she works to pass them to Harley. The long tunic is draped over her own arm then, and the un-beaded trousers shaken out to extend towards R'hin. Curiosity prevents her from looking away- seeing, perhaps, if there is anything markedly different between a bronzerider and mortal man. "You said blue was fine." Harley's eyebrows go up again, but not in surprise or even curiosity. This she has to see. She's not a bit bothered by R'hin stripping either. Quite willingly, she steps forward and takes the shawl and slippers from Jendayi. "Misinformed?" she asks casually. "By who?" The sparkle in her eyes shifts a little, looking more like a wicked glitter instead. "Oh, I don't think we need to tell him. He's quite aware of it." is her wry response as she studies the curly toed slippers. "I like the color, definitely." A twitch of brows betrays interest on the bronzerider's part. Harley, however, asks the question in R'hin's expression, so the man's comment is simply: "Slippers?" that too, is echoed incredulously. "You -do- recall where I live, do you not? The coldest place on Pern, and you'd dress me in -slippers-?" He continues stripping, if anything pleased by the attention. It's clear he takes good care of his body, well muscled even beyond the usual musculature that a dragonrider acquires. His clothing is piled messily on the floor, reaching for the offered trousers. "I said blue was fine," he agrees, tone wry, though tolerantly still pulling on the supplied clothing, "But you didn't mention anything of shawls and slippers." "By everyone!" Has Jendayi encouraged a misunderstanding? Is she distributing false information? Whatever's behind this ever so casual answer, it seems designed to tease, sister to sister. Overly chummy she may be but malicious the trader could never be mistaken for. "You never asked. Besides, pain is the price we all pay for beauty. And I asked them to add leather soles, when I knew we were coming to the mountains." Her hand freed of the trousers, she repeats the performance with the tunic- though this takes longer, a series of tiny buttons having to be undone from throat to calf-length hem. When she's finished, Jen holds it open for the bronzerider's arms. "I think it will need tailoring to bring in the waist. The trousers have a drawstring, fortunately." Harley is still studying the slippers, eyes only flickering slightly at Jendayi's 'everyone' answer. Eyebrows go up again in a glance to R'hin. "I wonder," and her voice trails off. With a shrug, she returns the rest of her attention to the bronzerider and the new outfit he's putting on. The wicked sparkle returns as well as the smile. "Leather soles. Well, if that gorgeous bronze of yours doesn't mind carrying you around when your outside," and she lets her voice trail off, smile widening to a grin. "Oh those buttons are precious." she adds to Jendayi. Tying up the drawstrings on the trousers, R'hin smoothes them down, seemingly satisfied, before eyeing the many buttons on the tunic. With a wry look at Jendayi, he slips his arms into the tunic, pulling it into place. "You do realize," he drawls, "That I'll need help every time I dress in his particular outfit? I'm not sure I can even do the buttons up." He fumbles experimentally with them, though it's a good bet his lack of coordination is probably put on, turning around and bestowing a beseeching look on the trader. "A little help, Dijilia?" Harley is shot a dry look, "You're not helping. I fear for poor Leysen when he grows up. You're going to dress him in cute little outfits, aren't you?" "A Blooded man would have body servants to do the task and these were made fit for a Lord Holder. It will give you cause to practice your charm, at the very least," Jendayi advises all too cheerfully. "They're very convenient once completely buttoned though." She leaves that to dangle while stepping forward to complete the process for R'hin, starting at the throat. Deft fingers make quick work of it. "There. Now the stole." Harley is gestured forward as Jen studies the bronzerider with a critical eye. "Folded in half length-wise, and then just draped over his right shoulder. It can be pinned to keep it in place but that," she says with a sudden grin, "Costs extra." Harley's voice emerges, half chortling as she answers R'hin. "Not when he's grown up. I've got enough sense not to try to dress someone who could flatten me with a mild thump. He's already the size of the two turn olds you know." and she shakes her head. "But no promises on what he'll wear while he's smaller than I am. And you are the limit. Can't button your own tunic." Her face clears as she steps forward with the shawl, handing it to Jendayi. "Okay, that won't look half bad actually. All nice and shiny and sparkly." she's still got hold of the curly toed slippers though she turns them over to study the sole now. R'hin half tips his head to watch Jendayi as she buttons the tunic. "Fit for a Lord Holder?" he echoes, amused, "What ever gave you the idea you should dress -me- in it, then?" Hands brush over the embroidered material, before pale eyes settle on the stole, shifting quickly to the trader. "It will fly off the second I'm in the air." A slight, suspicious narrowing of eyes. "But of course, you'd know that. Oh, ho, you are good, Dijilia. Hard to fault a flawless sales pitch. Now where are those slippers you're so callously inclined to dress me in?" Gaze shifts to Harley expectantly, unrepentant at her accusation. "The buttons are far too small for my hands, Harley." Jendayi accepts the shawl from Harley- the piece is even more heavily decorated than the tunic- and fusses with it to get the length settled neatly over R'hin's shoulder. "Protective camoflage for those situations when you simply cannot avoid pretending to be a diplomat?" she suggests. "Or simply quiet evenings in the living cavern. No one will be able to look away, rider. The style suits you." Even guileless Jen can't help but display a glint of triumph when she stands back to let the man be seen in his full glory. "If you will, Assistant Steward?" Harley's eyebrows shoot straight up. "What, these?" and she holds up the slippers. "Buttons might have beaten him, but I know he can put his boots and socks on without help, even from the depths of a hammock." and she steps forward just enough to hold the slippers out to R'hin, her eyes sparkling again. "I can't wait to see the parade of panting popsies when he walks into the living cavern wearing this." And to R'hin, she adds "So we get you a button hook." Pale eyes flicker sidelong, keeping an eye on the trader's fussing, the bronzerider bemused by the adjustments. "I'd have trouble passing for a diplomat, even if I was wearing a shirt with 'diplomat' printed in big bold letters across the front of it. And the back." A twitch of lips follows at her assessment, R'hin's attention shifting to Harley for her opinion. "Heartless woman," he mock-growls at the assistant steward, accepting the slippers and briefly taking hold of a nearby shelf for balance as he puts them on. "A parade you say?" he echoes, hint of laughter in the low comment. "That shirt can be arranged," Jendayi simply says, folding her arms across her chest and lifting her chin. Like a cat neck-deep in cream, she smiles to see him balanced there, an inelegant pose in such elegant clothing. "You know," she goes on, speaking now to Harley, "You have a trader's instincts. And I absolutely agree about the parade. I see a veritable *flood* of pretties in your future, rider." One hand is disengaged long enough to tape fingertips against her right temple. Harley says "Yup. A parade. Of panting popsies." Her grin is as wicked as the sparkle in her eyes. "And I don't want to miss it." Her head tilts to one side as she thinks for a moment. "I'm not even sure you'll need the button hook, you'll have so many offers to help you with them." Grinning at Jendayi she steps back to look R'hin over from head to toe. "Hmmmm. Not bad." she admits, though her lips twitch when her eyes reach the slippers. "Not too bad at all." The shoes are finally put on, and the bronzerider straightens, striking a pose that's as diplomatic and as regal as R'hin can mange - he even stares off into the distance to make it look as if he has some weighty issue on his mind. A beat, then: "I've already had a flood of those. They're attracted to a particular bronze hide." The words are dry enough, though perhaps a sharp sense might detect a faint undercurrent of irritation. A soft sigh of appreciation marks Jendayi's reaction to the fellow's pose-striking- and for all her earlier teasing about putting on an act, this response appears sincere. The girl has an eye for beauty, it would seem. "I am tempted to give you a steep discount, if you promise to wear that as often as possible. Do you suppose you could?" Her smile edges closer to a grin again. Amusement has returned. "Yes, that is what everyone had told me. It's the knot that makes the man for many women. Or the clothes. But if it keeps your bed warm and your wine-glass filled..." Harley's eyebrows might get stuck up there, they've gone up so often tonight. A single sharp glance goes to R'hin though she doesn't say anything. Not right now anyway. Leaning against the crate again, arms crossed, she can't hide the smile though. The wicked sparkle returning to her eyes. "I wonder if that falls under favors or incentives." she adds, unable to resist the mild tease. "By the way, has he said anything about this set?" and she nods to the beaded outfit R'hin is wearing. "Walking advertisement, is it?" R'hin asks, blandly, lips pursed as he examines Jendayi as if weighing her offer. "I suppose I could do that. If you throw in the pin for the shawl as well?" The latter comment, however, earns surprise, then a low, indulgent chuckle from the bronzerider. "Ah, I see you're a woman of practicality. True enough, true enough," he concedes. He's currently wearing a rather unusual - for the Reaches anyway - set of clothing, embroidered and colorful, a pile of clothing nearby indicating he's just changed. Harley's comment receives an non-commital smile, before he adds, "Leiventh? No, he's spectacularly uninterested in human clothing, wonder of wonders." Jendayi spreads her hands, displaying their emptiness in an open gesture. Without words, the movement says 'I can't help who I am', and her smile holds no apology. "The practical woman in me says incentives. And for you, dressed like that, anything. I have just the thing." It takes less time for the trader to find the pin- sure sign she'd planned on it before this fashion show- and a brief trip to the smallest of the boxes produces a twist of sharp bronze wire. It's a simple circle, a pin and a loop to secure it, and she holds it in the cup of her palm. "Now, the question is, Assistant Steward, will he wear this out of here or change for us again?" Harley grins and shrugs in response to R'hin's answer about Leiventh. "Had to ask." she admits. Again, her head tilts to one side as she studies R'hin. "I couldn't answer that one Trader. If he's decided to buy it, then I doubt he changes back to the usual gear." and a hand waves carelessly at the jumbled pile of clothes on the floor. A frown appears at that jumble and the neatnik inside her rises up and demands it be taken care of. The frown reappears. "Hm." Walking over, she picks up the pile of clothes, giving each piece a quick shake before setting it on the crate in a much neater pile. "It depends," R'hin's words seem to be leveled at Jendayi, since she asked the question, "Which you'd prefer, lady trader." A smile lingers around his lips, teasing, awaiting the woman's decision. His head half tips to one side, possibly to make it easier for the pin to be secured in place. Harley's arranging of his clothes is met with a bemused sort of look, though he makes no move to stop her. "Then I prefer you take the tunic off, rider, and leave the rest on. There's nothing more pleasing to the eye than a man half out of his best suit." Jen secures the pin in her own lapel to free her hands, offering them both in another open gesture for the task of unbuttoning. "And yes, I know where we are but I've allowed you the stole, remember." The banter takes only some of her focus, the buttons will take even less once she's been cleared to start them, and so the girl is left to also slide a look towards Harley. "On another topic, ma'am, would you happen to know what sort of security the Weyr keeps posted to the storerooms? Are our goods likely to be mistaken for the Weyr's?" Harley shakes her head. "No Ma'am." she answers, ignoring the look from R'hin. "If you noticed outside, people wanting to bring stuff in leave it out in the main cavern to let us sort and place it. The same usually goes for anything that is wanted out of the caverns. While there are little charts by the doors, people usually ask one of us to help them find what they're looking for. Hmmm." her eyes narrow as she thinks. "I can't remember the last time anything went missing out of stores, unless you want to count those castoffs that needed to be mended. I think they wound up in someone's weyr." and she shrugs. A glitter of amusement and interest bespeak R'hin's non-verbal response to Jendayi's decision, holding his hands out to his sides as if to make it easier for the trader to tend to the buttons once more. "The lady is generous," he murmurs, low and amused, "I only hope the discount you mentioned earlier is quite considerable." Gaze drifts towards Harley, and he adds to her words, "If you're concerned, you can always speak to the Ground Watch, have them keep an eye out for your stock. It's distinctive enough that it would be noticed, if someone was seen taking it." The buttons are dealt with as efficiently as before, and the tunic's side tugged on to loosen it around the rider's shoulders. "The fellow was generous, in the offering. The lady was opportunistic in accepting." Jendayi is quick and easy in her movements, stepping carefully around him to assist in the removal, holding and replacing the stole when that arm requires its freedom. "I may have Vertai do that, actually, thank you both. The Ground Watch...this is our first indepedent inventory, and it makes a person nervous, to see one's own life's savings left unattended. By spring it will all be sold, with luck, but until then..." Harley nods again. "I understand. Wonder if I should tell Maja as well." her eyes go to R'hin. "You know she'll probably find out from the watch anyway. Hmm." With a shrug, she glances around the huge storage cavern. "And R'hin does have a point. The items in your supplies are unique and are quickly noticed." Lips twitch in a sidelong glance at the sparkly R'hin. "I do like that color." she admits before turning back to bundle the clothes the rider had worn down into the caverns neatly. "Mmhmm," R'hin is passive in his acceptance of Jendayi's ministrations, moving his arms where necessary, allowing her to pull the tunic from him. His hand brushes against the stole, holding it in place, curl of lips evidences amusement. "I'll have to meet this Vertai of yours. I imagine he's quite an interesting fellow, from all that you've said." His hands spread at Harley's comment, "Don't look at me. Maja's been avoiding me. Maybe a bottle or two of vintage white would soothe her, do you think?" it's clear he thinks the chances of -that- are slim to none, judging by the wry expression. Jendayi folds the tunic over her own shoulder, a distorted mirror image of the bronzerider with his stole, and steps back just in time to see Harley making off with R'hin's clothing. "She likes you in it so much she's stolen what you were wearing before. Let's hope she isn't set to burn them, I won't let you take it out of the cost of *this* set." She purses her lips then and circles him a last time, studying the effect going tunicless has caused. "Yes. More than worth the five marks I'll have to get from you." Thoughts of cost are mildly distracting but the trader does glance up then to offer a brilliant smile, all white teeth and shining eyes in the artifical light of the glows. "Vertai is very interested in meeting you. I still think you'll find you have a lot in common." A snort is heard and Harley's voice as it fades out of the storage caverns. "I heard that. And R'hin would skin me alive if anything happened to his boots." as she rounds the curve of the tunnel and disappears from sight. Harley strolls into the lower caverns. Harley has left. R'hin half turns his head to watch the trader pace around him, pale eyes on the woman. "Burn them?" he echoes, with momentary alarm, though Harley's words are reassurance. "They're comfortable boots. Do you know how hard it is to find really comfortable boots?" A beat or two, as he stares at Jendayi, "Five? That's almost three Turns worth of pay. Surely you don't imagine, Jen, that I -earn- the marks of a Lord Holder?" The nickname is bestowed in much the same familiarity that she used earlier, but likely just as much to try and distract from the bargaining process as anything else. "I'm not sure that's a good thing - I seem to have poor relationships with those I have a lot in common with." "You'd pay three and a half for a plain set with that many pieces, not even half so nice as this one. The tunic uses more fabric than the norm and took hours to embroider. That alone is worth two and a half, at cost," Jendayi counters, fixing him with the cheerful regard of a gladiator eyeing an opponent from across the arena. She folds her arms before her again and tosses her head. "I *might* allow you four and three-quarters but you would have to swear never to tell Vertai. And guarantee at least one other customer, mm?" Then it's a pause while a new study is conducted, amusement showing through the bargaining gleam. "You seem to do well enough with me." R'hin meets Jendayi's stare with one of his own, pale eyes glimmering with betraying entertainment at the verbal sparring. "Four and a half, your secret's safe with me, and I'll treat you to a bottle of vintage Benden white. You already have me at the disadvantage of being half naked." His hands spread, low chuckle audible in his voice, undaunted by the study. "Who said we had much in common? Other than trading, of course. You've a love of colors, after all, that I don't." She hesitates, true, but only for a moment. Then Jen offers her hand to seal the deal. "Not so rusty after all! Congratulations on your new gatherwear, R'hin. I have no doubt our business will triple after you're seen in it." The business of being adversaries now settled, that subtle edge in her manner relaxes and leaves her capable of a more comfortable grin. "Much in common, not all in common. We have a taste for fine things, an eye for beauty and I think a dislike of being judged on preconceptions. Bound by others' rules? I've been wrong before, of course." R'hin grips the trader's hand with his own, fingertips rough as he pulls his hand away after the obligatory handshake. "I've a taste for fine things, though unfortunately not an infinite supply of marks. I'd have done well as a Lord Holder, I think, especially seeing as the Blooded rarely face the prospect of being able to be removed at a whim." An intrigued glint of eyes suggests Jendayi's probably not far off the mark with her guesses, "I've very little patience for the arbitrary decisions based on little reason. I would guess," he remarks dryly, "It would account for the fact that I've not yet been assigned a wing, despite being graduated for the last eight months." Jendayi snaps her fingers at him as soon as her hand is free for it, the sharp sound seeming an expression of glee at having her hunch confirmed. "You see? And do you mind the lack of wing? The freedom? That's why I'm here as well," she shares, lifting her hands and touching them to her chest, just beneath her collarbones. "Tradition...it is all well and good for most people. But the rare few?" The masses are dismissed with a flick, leaving her hands to settle back at her sides. "Not us. You see, now I know Vertai will like you. He has to, I'll tell him!" With this display of fellowship made, Jen now offers the rider his tunic and gestures towards the exit corridor. "And I should find him soon for that." "Being at the whim of whomever wishes an errand run is not one of my favourite joys in life," R'hin counters, "Though far better, I imagine, than the rigorous monotony of a traditional wingrider." There's a subtle emphasis to the word 'traditional' that turns it into something to be scorned, rather than embraced. Something in Jendayi's words sharpen his attention, staring at the woman anew, as if she's done something intriguing all of a sudden. A beat or two, and he steps closer to take the tunic, but his other hand reaches for her arm at the same time as if to prevent her leaving for a moment longer, "Are you the diplomat of the Dijilia, Jen?" the question seems to hold an oddly intent weight to it, pale eyes fixed on her, awaiting an answer. "Whomever? Truly? That is something to remember. And you know these mountains..." A thoughtful note, something to tuck away for later reference. But she's kept from padding off, drawn back to meet his eyes with her own puzzled gaze. "Diplomat, R'hin? I am only myself. Jendayi. And I mean no offense," Jendayi says, warm and gentle, "But it is a very bad thing to lay hands on a woman of the Dijilia, when you are not of her blood." She's almost kind in the way she reaches up to pat his fingers and then to lift them away. "I won't tell Emidio or Vertai of *that*, no worries." Guarded disappointment flickers in pale eyes, R'hin's exhale almost inaudible. He's solicitous in an instant, releasing her at the verbal warning, "My apologies, Dijilia. I thought perhaps you were... a person I was looking for. Forgive my forwardness." The intensity of his earlier tone has vanished, polite if nothing else, warm tones of earlier vanished. A beat, then, "I appreciate that." The way she regards him now might read as cautious, though in the uncertain light of the glows, it would be easy to mistake as sympathetic; Jendayi tips her head this way and looks up at the bronzerider that way and lets her smile twist in an understanding fashion. "Apologies and appreciation accepted, rider. The winter is long, and we are guests. Better that my menfolk don't get into trouble so early. Perhaps closer to the thaw? We'll see. I should go now, discuss the guard with Vertai, but I'll find you soon for the marks and the wine." Little opportunity to respond is offered, for she's already moving before these last words are spoken, making for the exit. |
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