[Maitrey] Pretty baubles-- various kinds-- at the Fort Gather.
RL Date: 9/15/09
IC Date: 10/6/20
Gather Grounds, Fort Hold(#869RJs$)
Down in the intersection of the Hall and Hold roads, the great beaten square of earth that houses most of Fort's gathers stands, free of any encroaching greenery. Meticulously maintained by Fort's groundskeepers, the area is devoid of structures when there isn't a gather on, only the brown of the hold's soil shows where festivities often take place. When the Lord has called a gather though, the wooden stalls are wheeled out from storage and set up in neat rows that make an aisle around the perimeter of the square. Strings of brightly colored lights are hung betwen the stalls and the harper dais is set up at the head of the dancing square along with a scattering of trestle tables and sturdy wooden stools.
To the northwest, the shape of the hold looms in the cliff while nearly due west the craft halls stand watch over the road. More cotholds pepper the fields beyond the gather grounds as far as the eye can see to the south and southeast.
After lunch, T'rev puts in another appearance at Fort's Gather, ambling along the stalls, and at some point he picks up some arm candy in the form of one Fort Sea's daughters who seems very keen to chatterbox the Weyrleader's ear off. That might be why he winds up buying her one of those sausage-on-a-stick treats and why she's munching on that now as they pause at the edge of a stall with colorful things on sale.
Hah! Sausage-on-a-stick. Anyway-- Maitrey's parked on the end of one of the tables, his hips hitched up to the tabletop, his arms folded, in the middle of recounting some sort of thrilling tale to a cluster of boys from the Hall, comrades separated by his recent posting, likely. "--can you do at that point but say yes? I'm telling you, gentlemen, it's like catching fish in a barrel." The quip about the fact that none of them have ever actually /fished/ dies amid a few snickers, and the group sort of disperses when a couple of journeymen wander by, leaving Maitrey with a clear line-of-sight to the stalls, T'rev, and his bauble. "Good afternoon, sir," is his wheeling-by greeting.
"Those are just precious," munch munch, "I think they'd just look darling with my blue brocade ..." is the kind of patter coming out of that girl. T'rev has a wonderful poker face thankfully and therefore looks amiable and pleasant but as Maitrey wheels by, brown eyes catch on the apprentice in a 'oh god please save me' way. "Oh aren't /you/ cute!" the young woman promptly gushes though at the apprentice and trades her sausage stick into her other hand reaching out to ruffle at his hair. "Don't you just love it when they call you, 'sir'?" This to T'rev who just smiles dazzlingly. "Jiella, this is Maitrey, a very talented artist, you should ask him to paint your portrait, I'm sure he'd make it very flattering for your father to send around to all those suitors you were telling me about." Breath. "Maitrey, have you met Jiella? Holder Rivellan's daughter?"
So, Maitrey's supposed to be obliged to oh-god-please-save-me T'rev after a suggestion to paint a gushing simpleton? Really? The hair-ruffling leaves him, briefly, blinking while he runs his own over it to put it back into something approaching smoothness, nearly two decades of 'be polite!' ringing in his ears to replace bemusement with a flawlessly public smile. "A very talented artist who is yet an apprentice, madam, better to be sure to supply your father the complete resume`," he suggests, lowering the quick sketch of a bow, not the full-fledged gesture here in the middle of a crowded thoroughfare between booths. "And how has the Gather been treating you both? Well, I hope?"
His loss on a business opportunity! "Apprentice or not, he's got great skills," T'rev says with a little look at Maitrey, that's meant to convey, 'hey she might talk a lot but she's /hot/'. Jiella beams at Maitrey again. "Oh well, you know, I'd have to get to know the whole resume first, wouldn't I?" Did she just twirl a curl at him? She did. And her sausage-on-a-stick is kind of taking a dip towards T'rev's sleeve. The Weyrleader gently retrieves it and shoots a smile down at her. "Let's not that drop that," he says to the Holder's daughter and now she's beaming at the Weyrleader again. But. Maitrey's question! "Oh it's been fabulous. The Weyrleader's been so nice to walk me all around." T'rev, he nods along with a 'what can you do' kind of grin.
Commerce will certainly seek revenge on young Maitrey sooner or later. For now... The she's-hot look is answered with a blandly raised eyebrow; oh, aren't they all. But it's all lightning-quick, so that the pretty dimwit need not be aware of the things conveyed mutely between Weyrleader and apprentice, only the attentive smile while he leans his head into a step, one in the direction that the two of them were originally headed, as if to inquire if they intend to keep going. "I'm sure he has reason to be gratified by your company in return. Were you two headed anywhere in particular or only wandering aimlessly? I'm told there's a superb collection of blown glass in one of these booths that's just not to be missed..." On his toes, briefly, he tries to get a glimpse of just what tent that might be. Good freaking luck, in this crowd.
"Heading for the end of the row and possibly a dance before I need to look for my Weyrwoman," T'rev puts in before the apparent ditz can gush out a different answer. "Jiella's a lovely shopping companion," he notes brightly and makes another big-eyes expression over her head at Maitrey with emphasis on 'shopping'. "Oh! Blown glass! Really, we have to go look. I might be able to find a gift for Mamma," Jiella puts in happily and then she's reaching out towards Maitrey, apparently intent on hooking his arm too, because if she can have the Weyrleader for an escort, maybe a nice apprentice harper too is even better?
Maitrey blows out a breath to meet the look over the woman's head, his cheeks gone from partially puffed to deflated by the time his arm is snagged. "By all means," he begins as if gravely, pasting that smile right back into place, "we ought to go and look for something suitable for your mother. Someone was telling me they're selling mobiles of balanced glass balls, quite delicate little things from the sound of them." Why he feels the need to throw T'rev under the bus... "I've heard the Weyrleader is quite a dancer, you're a lucky young woman."
"Glass balls? Really? Elaruth quite likes that kind of thing," T'rev drawls out with a smile. "Might see about getting a bauble or two for Hattie to give to her." He moves off then, tugged lightly by Jiella and still holding the sausage-stick in his other hand. She dips her head towards Maitrey with a bright smile. "Oh I /know/," she gushes, "I got /one/ dance in at the Fort Sea gather. One! I've been looking forward to /more/." Eyelash-flutter, the whole nine yards up at T'rev. "Do let's go look for that present for your dear mother," the Weyrleader says gamely enough though he's squinting through the crowd, maybe checking with Mecaith. Where's Cirse?
"It's really supposed to be a remarkable display. There's some glass smith churning them out in every color and a whole range of shapes," Maitrey says without the cloying quality reserved for the girl, apparently honestly interested in the display instead of just trying to distract Jiella with something shiny. "I think it's just around this corner here--" And, indeed, there's the shine of glass, in a brightly-clad booth with people doing the bull-in-a-china-closet tapdance in the general vicinity. And an opening for the girl to squeeze in and browse, even, when someone side-steps by virtue of the collective knots of Fort's Weyrleader and Fort Seahold's Blood.
"Definitely worth a look then," T'rev says cheerily to Maitrey, real interest in his tone as well. There's a happy sound of delight from Jiella in fact as the booth comes into view and she slips free from both escorts with a bright smile over her shoulder. "I just have to see --" something that's nice and shiny in all of that prettiness. She'll be back most likely but T'rev gets to puff out a breath of air and dump the remaining sausage into the nearest trash barrel. "Thanks," he remarks quietly to Maitrey after a moment, "she glommed onto me the moment I passed her. Give Fort Sea just bailed us out with that tithe ... I figured it'd be a bad idea not to humor her," the Weyrleader says with a rueful shake of his head. "How's things been so far? Managed to pick up any of the supplies you need at the Gather?"
With feeling, "Not a problem, sir." Maitrey gives his arm a little shake, not like she was death-clinging to him, but he smooths out his sleeve anyway. "She seems... pleasant enough." Delicate delicate. "If you have to do your duty faithfully, better that duty comes in a pretty package, if a little dim." That's low enough, put while he finds some nice place to stand just a few paces away from the throng of people, hands falling into his pockets. "I'm doing all right here. Refreshed my paints, saw some people--" People meaning girls, in this case, that little extra inflection to give it away. "--that I haven't seen since before I was moved up to the Weyr. All in all, it's difficult to complain. Aside from being thusly shackled, enjoying the party?"
"Energetic at least," T'rev says as he observes Jiella oohing and aahing over this and that. "And definitely easy on the eyes," there the Weyrleader's gaze skims over parts of the young lady that aren't her face. "Ah, good about the paint. Hard to keep up an artist's trade without it yeah?" A chuckle for 'people'. "We've had good weather and it's been you know, good times around a lot of hand-shaking and making sure that Fort Sea sees we're uh -- 'appropriately grateful' is how I've heard it put." A smirk about 'shackled'. "You'd think I was an available bachelor the way she's been," he murmurs with a shake of his head.
Maitrey's being very very good about /not/ looking at Jiella like she's on the menu, though he trails one quick glance since T'rev's opened that visual door. Where were they? Ah-- "I don't paint as much as I should, so it tends to last long enough." Aware that it's not the most riveting of subjects for those outside the trade, he lets it stay at that, eyes on one of those glass mobiles, three carefully balanced balls of glass in red, blue, and green, smile deepening. "I'm sure," he begins in a careful way, "our gratitude is entirely appropriate." Where 'appropriate' is fractionally tinged by derision. "That's a question that never came up in politics, sir. Would a holder look badly on a daughter known to be the paramour of a Weyrleader? Certainly, it might make her unmarriageable, but it's not as if you're not in a position to care for her and benefit her hold."
"Ahh," T'rev on paint, and then he's squinting beyond the multi-colored balls Maitrey's looking at and finding a set graduated from palest blue to rich cobalt, dancing sparkles caught in them. "Mostly means a lot of sayin' 'Yeah Fort Sea rocks'," T'rev answers with a wry chuckle and blows a breath out, shakes his head. "Don't know for sure. Don't think Rivellan'd be happy though. She's second to youngest, Eidee was the youngest. There's two others ahead of Jiella still not married ..." his shoulders lift, drop again. "Don't mind escortin' her 'round the Gather but I ain't about to go ruinin' her reputation just for kicks."
"After everything they've done to ingratiate themselves, surely a Weyrleader's issue would hardly be frowned upon?" Yes, Maitrey's being sarcastic, albeit quietly so, his eyes firmly fixed on the balls all suspended from strings, only occasionally dipping to Giggles And Sunshine fawning over them. "I would hope," he begins a little more seriously, "that the girl's not as dim as she seems. Not to imply that you would, but the Lords' daughters at the Hall were generally bright enough not to let anyone ruin their reputations without a marriage mark in hand." Beat. "/Most/ of them."
T'rev flinches minutely at the word 'issue', even with the sarcastic tone on that quiet remark. "If she's got more between her ears than air and a big smile, kinda makes you wonder a little, don't it?" T'rev remarks conversationally and tilts his head to the side. "Think I'll get that set there. Mecaith thinks Elaruth would like ' em," the Weyrleader muses and takes a breath, drops his gaze back to Maitrey's face. "Or they're clever enough not to get caught."
With subdued amusement, Maitrey remarks, "That may be a big 'if,' in this case. Though I'm still of the opinion that Playing Dumb is among the nursery games they teach little girls of good upbringing." His eyes follow to the that-set-there in question, and gives an impressed little nod at them. "If I had the money, sir, I would be next in line behind you. Alas." He turns out one pocket, empty; one can hope all his marks are shoved safely in the other one. Clever enough makes him snicker quietly; "Their fathers tend to come and collect them in that case. It's a real career-killer for the dallying Harper, I'm told." /Certainly/ no first-hand experience.
"Mm, she does airhead really well," T'rev agrees and pastes on a big smile and a thumbs-up when Jiella turns towards them holding up a -- what the hell is that anyway? But the colors are pretty? Vase it has to be for Mamma. And maye T'rev can't help the wisecrack: "Do her portrait and you'll be able to," he winks over at the apprentice and rubs at his chin. "Mmm. My father managed to duck that one, but he was already a Journeyman," the Weyrleader notes absently. "And he'd meant to marry her if she'd lived beyond my sister's birth." Breath out. "I guess too when you're a rider, they already know there won't be no marriage mark and the smart ones ask for a quick jaunt between to make sure there won't be any 'issue' later on."
There's a visible cringe; Maitrey says 'issue' and the boss flinches; T'rev says 'portrait' and the harper flinches. Turnabout. "There's something to be said for being allowed to pick-and-choose still." With another breath blown out, though it's all held in until Jiella turns back, his own response to her looky-looky maneuver in the form of that pasted-on smile. "I think that depends on what version of 'smart' we're using, sir. You're the Weyrleader. How many trips *between* are declined on that merit alone?"
"Yeaaah," T'rev drawls out with a sudden show of sympathy after Jiella's turned around to pay the craftsman for her -- vase. Thing. Whatever. T'rev's hands slide into his pockets and he squints back up at glinting blue glass balls. "Since I ain't playin' the field right now, don't hardly matter. And if I were, wouldn't go there with someone who wasn't willing to make sure there wasn't going to be a problem later on. Weyr doesn't need that kind of trouble right now," he says quietly. "But. Tell me which one of those you like best," a jerk of his chin upward. "And how much of your art it'll earn me and we can make /that/ a fair trade, hm?"
"Noble of you." And that-- that is a tone so arcane there'll never be any telling whether Maitrey really means it, or whether 'noble' is synonymous with 'stupid.' The offer makes for a good, socially acceptable laugh from the younger man, a perfectly innocent conversation here, nothing for all you eavesdroppy holders and crafters to worry about. "Just taking a guess at the price tags on those, sir? I could draw until my hand fell off and I'd still be indebted. Let's call it enough if you'll just let the weyrwoman know that I turned you on to the booth in the first place? Gratitude, however small, from a goldrider can't hurt, I imagine."
T'rev snorts softly and shakes his head. "Practical," is what he murmurs in response and smiles widely and sincerely over at the apprentice. "All right, I'll do that, Maitrey. And no, don't hurt atall to be on Hattie's good side. She's got a mean right hook if you get on her bad one." He winks again and nods towards the booth, edging in closer. "Let me catch the craftsman's eye." Maitrey and T'rev stand on the edge of a thick crowd around one of the glasscrafter's booths where a large number of colorful glass mobiles and other items hang on display, reflecting the afternoon light prettily. Amidst those in the booth making purchases is one of the Fort Sea blood, Eidee's slightly older sister, Jiella, pretty, blonde and curvy.
Considering the costliness of the items inside that booth and the generally destitute state of apprentices (yes, even those with lucrative side-ventures), is it any wonder that Maitrey stays outside the booth? He can still see the marvels from here without having to worry about any careless elbows. "Best of luck with that," is his amused response, considering the number of people with pocket-money itching to burn on nothing more useful than pretty glass baubles. Jiella among them. What was that about practicality?
Thick crowds are not Amerie's thing; but then, neither are gathers, but she's still here. Not looking like she's having /fun/, mind - that would be just wrong. The tall dark journeyman is fairly impossible to miss as she makes what are presumably her rounds in a satin gown the colour of the summer sun. Apparently, this whole issue with finding the weather cold is academic when it comes to fashion - for the look, she'll tough it out. Her sole nod to practicality is a white wrap, detailed with gold embroidery, and a matching bag. Both are on her arm. Any crowd has to have buyers, and pretty women with money to spend are definitely in the weaver's interest, so she begins to make her way towards the booth, dark gaze very nearly predatory. Ka-ching.
Despite the thickness of that crowd, a Weyrleader's knot is good for something and it doesn't take nearly as long as one might think for T'rev to manage the purchase and have it secured in a sturdy box for transport up to the Weyr. Said box is put aside, clearly labeled with "Weyrleader, Fort" for when he comes to fetch it later. Sadly, completing his purchase means that Jiella re-attaches herself to his side and when he emerges from the booth it's with blondie chattering away again. "Oh Mamma will be so pleased, did you know that they only use the /finest/ Bollian sand?" This would make Amerie's target framed by Weyrleader and artiste by the time she arrives and T'rev flashes the weaver a charming smile. "Good afternoon, Amerie. Jiella, this is Journeyman Amerie currently posted to Fort Weyr, Jiella of Fort Sea." Shiny manners but then Jiella is letting out one of those airhead cries of delight of hers at the sight of Amerie's gown. "Oh, by Faranth's toes, aren't you a vision? What /is/ that made out of?" Ka-ching indeed. T'rev slants a look sidelong at Maitrey, rich with amusement.
First, let's just get this out of the way. Briefly, as discreetly as one can manage an act such as this, Maitrey gapes at Amerie in gold-satin. It's an absolutely unstoppable response, quickly put away in favor of welcoming back the Weyrleader and his bauble-- Jiella, not the glass balls he bought-- with a quiet congratulations on the pair of purchases. It's rare to render him speechless, but between the gushing of Fort Seahold's daughter and the gown of the Weaver, he just stands there with his hands buried in his pockets.
Airhead cries of delight tend to give Amerie a headache in very very short order, but that's perhaps only visible in the twitch of full lips, the brief narrowing of dark eyes. But the big knot and the money do help her manners some as she gives a low nod - can't quite manage a smile though. "Weyrleader. Jiella, lovely to meet you. And thank you so much. It's satin," she offers, smooth and even and not even sounding slightly dry or sarcastic about any of it. T'rev's sidelong glance has her following it to the harper; with another quirk of her lips, she just nods. "Maitrey." More generally, "Has it all been going well so far? I haven't been here long."
Jiella is looking Amerie over with a clear expression of delight and she actually starts to walk around the Weaver like she's a living doll rather than a person, more interested in the gown than the person in it. "Oh well met and Fort Sea's duties," she exclaims while doing that little walkabout. "/Satin/, it looks so rich, almost like a gold dragon." Tee hee. T'rev looks up at the sky. My. Aren't those clouds /interesting/. Down again. "It's been a great Gather so far, supplies obtained for some and lots of good dancing. Kaida seemed to be doing good business yesterday."
He speaks! "Journeyman." Now that enough time has passed for blood to start flowing to /other/ parts of his body, Maitrey can even take his hands out of his pockets and fold them properly behind his back, good-little-harper in such notable company. There's a brief twinge at the corner of his eye, one he gets away with seeing as Jiella's fawning all over someone else (thank god), and he chimes, "I'm willing to bet she won't be the only weaver doing a fair bit of commerce before the Gather wraps. Almost like a gold dragon, very apt." His praising echo of those words is conscientious, not a drop of derision evident, though the lack of it may say enough on its own.
If Amerie got bothered every time someone looked at her like an object rather than a person, she'd be completely impossible to deal with, given her usual state of irritation. For Jiella, she simply falls into a pose, used to this particular part of the process - but when the blonde isn't looking, she's almost a mirror of T'rev - rolling eyes skyward, giving a quiet sigh. "It's rather dear, but I think it's worth it." Obviously. For the Weyrleader, "All good things. And yes - actually, when I was over there, she barely had a chance to wave. It seems - busy." She's dubious about the benefits of the crowds. Maitrey's echo of Jiella's comment has one of her fine brows arching, regarding the apprentice for a beat before, cautiously, perhaps a little disarmed. "Thank you."
T'rev's own compliment is quieter and perhaps for that, all the more sincere. "You look lovely, Amerie," he says softly and his eyes seek hers out for a moment. No inappropriate lingering on curves here as they did on the young woman who has just finished coming around the Weaver's skirt. "You have a booth do you not?" Jiella asks breathlessly. "I must bring Mamma down so we can look over /all/ of your wares so we can pick out the best ones." Maitrey's echo of the compliment earns him a bright airhead smile and another one of those 'awww isn't he cute' shoulder to cheek squishes. T'rev: poker.face.
Even good harpers have their breaking points, and apprentices are that much more likely to find them early on. It's a real 'would you look at the time' tone when Maitrey chimes, "Speaking of booths, I had better go and check on whether or not I've managed to make any pocket-money with this venture." That he peers in a direction that is absolutely not the main art booth for the hall is probably just oversight on his part. Really. "Jiella, it's been lovely to meet you. Sir, let me know how the glass is received? Amerie, I hope to make good on a very 'fine' arrangement before the day's out, if you're still amenable?"
People are very confusing. Amerie seems to decide this, as she meets T'rev's gaze briefly, dark gaze wary, as always. "I try," she says simply, inclining her head in thanks. To Jiella, "I am at the weaver's booth, or can be contacted through there. I have some designs you could look at - I prefer to create the dress for the client, however." And here she is as proof of why that should most definitely happen! The tone Maitrey's got on brings a split-second smirk - though the vague bit about money has her arching a brow again his way. Slowly, "I revoked that, as you'll recall. You left me to be /barked at/. However, we'll see what can be arranged. If I see you." Again, she's hard to miss.
The amusement on T'rev's face in reaction to Maitrey's claimed need to go is subtle, mostly in the twinkle of his eyes. Easily missed by young ladies absorbed in cooing over golden satin. Amusement turns to bemusement at the exchange between weaver and harper, but he only nods Maitrey's way, says politely and sincerely: "Thank you for your company this afternoon, Maitrey. I'll see you around, I'm sure." Jiella meanwhile turns about and bobs a curtsey to the apprentice. "Oh you as well, Maitrey. I'll come by if you'd like to sketch me." Eyelash flutter. And then she's draping herself on T'rev's arm again. "I'll tell Mamma as soon as I see her and you may expect us before the Gather closes tomorrow," Jiella says to Amerie.
"I would be thrilled," Maitrey answers to Jiella without missing a beat, like it costs him absolutely no effort. There's a look, one paired with a quick twitch that will probably be a smirk when it grows up, that he casts to Amerie in response to her 'as you'll recall.' "Enjoy the party," are his parting words to the ladies, one slightly lower for T'rev; "Good luck." You poor sucker. Hands back in his pockets where he's less likely to go knocking elbows in the crowd, he ducks down one of the busier aisles and gets swallowed up by the Gather-goers.
IC Date: 10/6/20
Gather Grounds, Fort Hold(#869RJs$)
Down in the intersection of the Hall and Hold roads, the great beaten square of earth that houses most of Fort's gathers stands, free of any encroaching greenery. Meticulously maintained by Fort's groundskeepers, the area is devoid of structures when there isn't a gather on, only the brown of the hold's soil shows where festivities often take place. When the Lord has called a gather though, the wooden stalls are wheeled out from storage and set up in neat rows that make an aisle around the perimeter of the square. Strings of brightly colored lights are hung betwen the stalls and the harper dais is set up at the head of the dancing square along with a scattering of trestle tables and sturdy wooden stools.
To the northwest, the shape of the hold looms in the cliff while nearly due west the craft halls stand watch over the road. More cotholds pepper the fields beyond the gather grounds as far as the eye can see to the south and southeast.
After lunch, T'rev puts in another appearance at Fort's Gather, ambling along the stalls, and at some point he picks up some arm candy in the form of one Fort Sea's daughters who seems very keen to chatterbox the Weyrleader's ear off. That might be why he winds up buying her one of those sausage-on-a-stick treats and why she's munching on that now as they pause at the edge of a stall with colorful things on sale.
Hah! Sausage-on-a-stick. Anyway-- Maitrey's parked on the end of one of the tables, his hips hitched up to the tabletop, his arms folded, in the middle of recounting some sort of thrilling tale to a cluster of boys from the Hall, comrades separated by his recent posting, likely. "--can you do at that point but say yes? I'm telling you, gentlemen, it's like catching fish in a barrel." The quip about the fact that none of them have ever actually /fished/ dies amid a few snickers, and the group sort of disperses when a couple of journeymen wander by, leaving Maitrey with a clear line-of-sight to the stalls, T'rev, and his bauble. "Good afternoon, sir," is his wheeling-by greeting.
"Those are just precious," munch munch, "I think they'd just look darling with my blue brocade ..." is the kind of patter coming out of that girl. T'rev has a wonderful poker face thankfully and therefore looks amiable and pleasant but as Maitrey wheels by, brown eyes catch on the apprentice in a 'oh god please save me' way. "Oh aren't /you/ cute!" the young woman promptly gushes though at the apprentice and trades her sausage stick into her other hand reaching out to ruffle at his hair. "Don't you just love it when they call you, 'sir'?" This to T'rev who just smiles dazzlingly. "Jiella, this is Maitrey, a very talented artist, you should ask him to paint your portrait, I'm sure he'd make it very flattering for your father to send around to all those suitors you were telling me about." Breath. "Maitrey, have you met Jiella? Holder Rivellan's daughter?"
So, Maitrey's supposed to be obliged to oh-god-please-save-me T'rev after a suggestion to paint a gushing simpleton? Really? The hair-ruffling leaves him, briefly, blinking while he runs his own over it to put it back into something approaching smoothness, nearly two decades of 'be polite!' ringing in his ears to replace bemusement with a flawlessly public smile. "A very talented artist who is yet an apprentice, madam, better to be sure to supply your father the complete resume`," he suggests, lowering the quick sketch of a bow, not the full-fledged gesture here in the middle of a crowded thoroughfare between booths. "And how has the Gather been treating you both? Well, I hope?"
His loss on a business opportunity! "Apprentice or not, he's got great skills," T'rev says with a little look at Maitrey, that's meant to convey, 'hey she might talk a lot but she's /hot/'. Jiella beams at Maitrey again. "Oh well, you know, I'd have to get to know the whole resume first, wouldn't I?" Did she just twirl a curl at him? She did. And her sausage-on-a-stick is kind of taking a dip towards T'rev's sleeve. The Weyrleader gently retrieves it and shoots a smile down at her. "Let's not that drop that," he says to the Holder's daughter and now she's beaming at the Weyrleader again. But. Maitrey's question! "Oh it's been fabulous. The Weyrleader's been so nice to walk me all around." T'rev, he nods along with a 'what can you do' kind of grin.
Commerce will certainly seek revenge on young Maitrey sooner or later. For now... The she's-hot look is answered with a blandly raised eyebrow; oh, aren't they all. But it's all lightning-quick, so that the pretty dimwit need not be aware of the things conveyed mutely between Weyrleader and apprentice, only the attentive smile while he leans his head into a step, one in the direction that the two of them were originally headed, as if to inquire if they intend to keep going. "I'm sure he has reason to be gratified by your company in return. Were you two headed anywhere in particular or only wandering aimlessly? I'm told there's a superb collection of blown glass in one of these booths that's just not to be missed..." On his toes, briefly, he tries to get a glimpse of just what tent that might be. Good freaking luck, in this crowd.
"Heading for the end of the row and possibly a dance before I need to look for my Weyrwoman," T'rev puts in before the apparent ditz can gush out a different answer. "Jiella's a lovely shopping companion," he notes brightly and makes another big-eyes expression over her head at Maitrey with emphasis on 'shopping'. "Oh! Blown glass! Really, we have to go look. I might be able to find a gift for Mamma," Jiella puts in happily and then she's reaching out towards Maitrey, apparently intent on hooking his arm too, because if she can have the Weyrleader for an escort, maybe a nice apprentice harper too is even better?
Maitrey blows out a breath to meet the look over the woman's head, his cheeks gone from partially puffed to deflated by the time his arm is snagged. "By all means," he begins as if gravely, pasting that smile right back into place, "we ought to go and look for something suitable for your mother. Someone was telling me they're selling mobiles of balanced glass balls, quite delicate little things from the sound of them." Why he feels the need to throw T'rev under the bus... "I've heard the Weyrleader is quite a dancer, you're a lucky young woman."
"Glass balls? Really? Elaruth quite likes that kind of thing," T'rev drawls out with a smile. "Might see about getting a bauble or two for Hattie to give to her." He moves off then, tugged lightly by Jiella and still holding the sausage-stick in his other hand. She dips her head towards Maitrey with a bright smile. "Oh I /know/," she gushes, "I got /one/ dance in at the Fort Sea gather. One! I've been looking forward to /more/." Eyelash-flutter, the whole nine yards up at T'rev. "Do let's go look for that present for your dear mother," the Weyrleader says gamely enough though he's squinting through the crowd, maybe checking with Mecaith. Where's Cirse?
"It's really supposed to be a remarkable display. There's some glass smith churning them out in every color and a whole range of shapes," Maitrey says without the cloying quality reserved for the girl, apparently honestly interested in the display instead of just trying to distract Jiella with something shiny. "I think it's just around this corner here--" And, indeed, there's the shine of glass, in a brightly-clad booth with people doing the bull-in-a-china-closet tapdance in the general vicinity. And an opening for the girl to squeeze in and browse, even, when someone side-steps by virtue of the collective knots of Fort's Weyrleader and Fort Seahold's Blood.
"Definitely worth a look then," T'rev says cheerily to Maitrey, real interest in his tone as well. There's a happy sound of delight from Jiella in fact as the booth comes into view and she slips free from both escorts with a bright smile over her shoulder. "I just have to see --" something that's nice and shiny in all of that prettiness. She'll be back most likely but T'rev gets to puff out a breath of air and dump the remaining sausage into the nearest trash barrel. "Thanks," he remarks quietly to Maitrey after a moment, "she glommed onto me the moment I passed her. Give Fort Sea just bailed us out with that tithe ... I figured it'd be a bad idea not to humor her," the Weyrleader says with a rueful shake of his head. "How's things been so far? Managed to pick up any of the supplies you need at the Gather?"
With feeling, "Not a problem, sir." Maitrey gives his arm a little shake, not like she was death-clinging to him, but he smooths out his sleeve anyway. "She seems... pleasant enough." Delicate delicate. "If you have to do your duty faithfully, better that duty comes in a pretty package, if a little dim." That's low enough, put while he finds some nice place to stand just a few paces away from the throng of people, hands falling into his pockets. "I'm doing all right here. Refreshed my paints, saw some people--" People meaning girls, in this case, that little extra inflection to give it away. "--that I haven't seen since before I was moved up to the Weyr. All in all, it's difficult to complain. Aside from being thusly shackled, enjoying the party?"
"Energetic at least," T'rev says as he observes Jiella oohing and aahing over this and that. "And definitely easy on the eyes," there the Weyrleader's gaze skims over parts of the young lady that aren't her face. "Ah, good about the paint. Hard to keep up an artist's trade without it yeah?" A chuckle for 'people'. "We've had good weather and it's been you know, good times around a lot of hand-shaking and making sure that Fort Sea sees we're uh -- 'appropriately grateful' is how I've heard it put." A smirk about 'shackled'. "You'd think I was an available bachelor the way she's been," he murmurs with a shake of his head.
Maitrey's being very very good about /not/ looking at Jiella like she's on the menu, though he trails one quick glance since T'rev's opened that visual door. Where were they? Ah-- "I don't paint as much as I should, so it tends to last long enough." Aware that it's not the most riveting of subjects for those outside the trade, he lets it stay at that, eyes on one of those glass mobiles, three carefully balanced balls of glass in red, blue, and green, smile deepening. "I'm sure," he begins in a careful way, "our gratitude is entirely appropriate." Where 'appropriate' is fractionally tinged by derision. "That's a question that never came up in politics, sir. Would a holder look badly on a daughter known to be the paramour of a Weyrleader? Certainly, it might make her unmarriageable, but it's not as if you're not in a position to care for her and benefit her hold."
"Ahh," T'rev on paint, and then he's squinting beyond the multi-colored balls Maitrey's looking at and finding a set graduated from palest blue to rich cobalt, dancing sparkles caught in them. "Mostly means a lot of sayin' 'Yeah Fort Sea rocks'," T'rev answers with a wry chuckle and blows a breath out, shakes his head. "Don't know for sure. Don't think Rivellan'd be happy though. She's second to youngest, Eidee was the youngest. There's two others ahead of Jiella still not married ..." his shoulders lift, drop again. "Don't mind escortin' her 'round the Gather but I ain't about to go ruinin' her reputation just for kicks."
"After everything they've done to ingratiate themselves, surely a Weyrleader's issue would hardly be frowned upon?" Yes, Maitrey's being sarcastic, albeit quietly so, his eyes firmly fixed on the balls all suspended from strings, only occasionally dipping to Giggles And Sunshine fawning over them. "I would hope," he begins a little more seriously, "that the girl's not as dim as she seems. Not to imply that you would, but the Lords' daughters at the Hall were generally bright enough not to let anyone ruin their reputations without a marriage mark in hand." Beat. "/Most/ of them."
T'rev flinches minutely at the word 'issue', even with the sarcastic tone on that quiet remark. "If she's got more between her ears than air and a big smile, kinda makes you wonder a little, don't it?" T'rev remarks conversationally and tilts his head to the side. "Think I'll get that set there. Mecaith thinks Elaruth would like ' em," the Weyrleader muses and takes a breath, drops his gaze back to Maitrey's face. "Or they're clever enough not to get caught."
With subdued amusement, Maitrey remarks, "That may be a big 'if,' in this case. Though I'm still of the opinion that Playing Dumb is among the nursery games they teach little girls of good upbringing." His eyes follow to the that-set-there in question, and gives an impressed little nod at them. "If I had the money, sir, I would be next in line behind you. Alas." He turns out one pocket, empty; one can hope all his marks are shoved safely in the other one. Clever enough makes him snicker quietly; "Their fathers tend to come and collect them in that case. It's a real career-killer for the dallying Harper, I'm told." /Certainly/ no first-hand experience.
"Mm, she does airhead really well," T'rev agrees and pastes on a big smile and a thumbs-up when Jiella turns towards them holding up a -- what the hell is that anyway? But the colors are pretty? Vase it has to be for Mamma. And maye T'rev can't help the wisecrack: "Do her portrait and you'll be able to," he winks over at the apprentice and rubs at his chin. "Mmm. My father managed to duck that one, but he was already a Journeyman," the Weyrleader notes absently. "And he'd meant to marry her if she'd lived beyond my sister's birth." Breath out. "I guess too when you're a rider, they already know there won't be no marriage mark and the smart ones ask for a quick jaunt between to make sure there won't be any 'issue' later on."
There's a visible cringe; Maitrey says 'issue' and the boss flinches; T'rev says 'portrait' and the harper flinches. Turnabout. "There's something to be said for being allowed to pick-and-choose still." With another breath blown out, though it's all held in until Jiella turns back, his own response to her looky-looky maneuver in the form of that pasted-on smile. "I think that depends on what version of 'smart' we're using, sir. You're the Weyrleader. How many trips *between* are declined on that merit alone?"
"Yeaaah," T'rev drawls out with a sudden show of sympathy after Jiella's turned around to pay the craftsman for her -- vase. Thing. Whatever. T'rev's hands slide into his pockets and he squints back up at glinting blue glass balls. "Since I ain't playin' the field right now, don't hardly matter. And if I were, wouldn't go there with someone who wasn't willing to make sure there wasn't going to be a problem later on. Weyr doesn't need that kind of trouble right now," he says quietly. "But. Tell me which one of those you like best," a jerk of his chin upward. "And how much of your art it'll earn me and we can make /that/ a fair trade, hm?"
"Noble of you." And that-- that is a tone so arcane there'll never be any telling whether Maitrey really means it, or whether 'noble' is synonymous with 'stupid.' The offer makes for a good, socially acceptable laugh from the younger man, a perfectly innocent conversation here, nothing for all you eavesdroppy holders and crafters to worry about. "Just taking a guess at the price tags on those, sir? I could draw until my hand fell off and I'd still be indebted. Let's call it enough if you'll just let the weyrwoman know that I turned you on to the booth in the first place? Gratitude, however small, from a goldrider can't hurt, I imagine."
T'rev snorts softly and shakes his head. "Practical," is what he murmurs in response and smiles widely and sincerely over at the apprentice. "All right, I'll do that, Maitrey. And no, don't hurt atall to be on Hattie's good side. She's got a mean right hook if you get on her bad one." He winks again and nods towards the booth, edging in closer. "Let me catch the craftsman's eye." Maitrey and T'rev stand on the edge of a thick crowd around one of the glasscrafter's booths where a large number of colorful glass mobiles and other items hang on display, reflecting the afternoon light prettily. Amidst those in the booth making purchases is one of the Fort Sea blood, Eidee's slightly older sister, Jiella, pretty, blonde and curvy.
Considering the costliness of the items inside that booth and the generally destitute state of apprentices (yes, even those with lucrative side-ventures), is it any wonder that Maitrey stays outside the booth? He can still see the marvels from here without having to worry about any careless elbows. "Best of luck with that," is his amused response, considering the number of people with pocket-money itching to burn on nothing more useful than pretty glass baubles. Jiella among them. What was that about practicality?
Thick crowds are not Amerie's thing; but then, neither are gathers, but she's still here. Not looking like she's having /fun/, mind - that would be just wrong. The tall dark journeyman is fairly impossible to miss as she makes what are presumably her rounds in a satin gown the colour of the summer sun. Apparently, this whole issue with finding the weather cold is academic when it comes to fashion - for the look, she'll tough it out. Her sole nod to practicality is a white wrap, detailed with gold embroidery, and a matching bag. Both are on her arm. Any crowd has to have buyers, and pretty women with money to spend are definitely in the weaver's interest, so she begins to make her way towards the booth, dark gaze very nearly predatory. Ka-ching.
Despite the thickness of that crowd, a Weyrleader's knot is good for something and it doesn't take nearly as long as one might think for T'rev to manage the purchase and have it secured in a sturdy box for transport up to the Weyr. Said box is put aside, clearly labeled with "Weyrleader, Fort" for when he comes to fetch it later. Sadly, completing his purchase means that Jiella re-attaches herself to his side and when he emerges from the booth it's with blondie chattering away again. "Oh Mamma will be so pleased, did you know that they only use the /finest/ Bollian sand?" This would make Amerie's target framed by Weyrleader and artiste by the time she arrives and T'rev flashes the weaver a charming smile. "Good afternoon, Amerie. Jiella, this is Journeyman Amerie currently posted to Fort Weyr, Jiella of Fort Sea." Shiny manners but then Jiella is letting out one of those airhead cries of delight of hers at the sight of Amerie's gown. "Oh, by Faranth's toes, aren't you a vision? What /is/ that made out of?" Ka-ching indeed. T'rev slants a look sidelong at Maitrey, rich with amusement.
First, let's just get this out of the way. Briefly, as discreetly as one can manage an act such as this, Maitrey gapes at Amerie in gold-satin. It's an absolutely unstoppable response, quickly put away in favor of welcoming back the Weyrleader and his bauble-- Jiella, not the glass balls he bought-- with a quiet congratulations on the pair of purchases. It's rare to render him speechless, but between the gushing of Fort Seahold's daughter and the gown of the Weaver, he just stands there with his hands buried in his pockets.
Airhead cries of delight tend to give Amerie a headache in very very short order, but that's perhaps only visible in the twitch of full lips, the brief narrowing of dark eyes. But the big knot and the money do help her manners some as she gives a low nod - can't quite manage a smile though. "Weyrleader. Jiella, lovely to meet you. And thank you so much. It's satin," she offers, smooth and even and not even sounding slightly dry or sarcastic about any of it. T'rev's sidelong glance has her following it to the harper; with another quirk of her lips, she just nods. "Maitrey." More generally, "Has it all been going well so far? I haven't been here long."
Jiella is looking Amerie over with a clear expression of delight and she actually starts to walk around the Weaver like she's a living doll rather than a person, more interested in the gown than the person in it. "Oh well met and Fort Sea's duties," she exclaims while doing that little walkabout. "/Satin/, it looks so rich, almost like a gold dragon." Tee hee. T'rev looks up at the sky. My. Aren't those clouds /interesting/. Down again. "It's been a great Gather so far, supplies obtained for some and lots of good dancing. Kaida seemed to be doing good business yesterday."
He speaks! "Journeyman." Now that enough time has passed for blood to start flowing to /other/ parts of his body, Maitrey can even take his hands out of his pockets and fold them properly behind his back, good-little-harper in such notable company. There's a brief twinge at the corner of his eye, one he gets away with seeing as Jiella's fawning all over someone else (thank god), and he chimes, "I'm willing to bet she won't be the only weaver doing a fair bit of commerce before the Gather wraps. Almost like a gold dragon, very apt." His praising echo of those words is conscientious, not a drop of derision evident, though the lack of it may say enough on its own.
If Amerie got bothered every time someone looked at her like an object rather than a person, she'd be completely impossible to deal with, given her usual state of irritation. For Jiella, she simply falls into a pose, used to this particular part of the process - but when the blonde isn't looking, she's almost a mirror of T'rev - rolling eyes skyward, giving a quiet sigh. "It's rather dear, but I think it's worth it." Obviously. For the Weyrleader, "All good things. And yes - actually, when I was over there, she barely had a chance to wave. It seems - busy." She's dubious about the benefits of the crowds. Maitrey's echo of Jiella's comment has one of her fine brows arching, regarding the apprentice for a beat before, cautiously, perhaps a little disarmed. "Thank you."
T'rev's own compliment is quieter and perhaps for that, all the more sincere. "You look lovely, Amerie," he says softly and his eyes seek hers out for a moment. No inappropriate lingering on curves here as they did on the young woman who has just finished coming around the Weaver's skirt. "You have a booth do you not?" Jiella asks breathlessly. "I must bring Mamma down so we can look over /all/ of your wares so we can pick out the best ones." Maitrey's echo of the compliment earns him a bright airhead smile and another one of those 'awww isn't he cute' shoulder to cheek squishes. T'rev: poker.face.
Even good harpers have their breaking points, and apprentices are that much more likely to find them early on. It's a real 'would you look at the time' tone when Maitrey chimes, "Speaking of booths, I had better go and check on whether or not I've managed to make any pocket-money with this venture." That he peers in a direction that is absolutely not the main art booth for the hall is probably just oversight on his part. Really. "Jiella, it's been lovely to meet you. Sir, let me know how the glass is received? Amerie, I hope to make good on a very 'fine' arrangement before the day's out, if you're still amenable?"
People are very confusing. Amerie seems to decide this, as she meets T'rev's gaze briefly, dark gaze wary, as always. "I try," she says simply, inclining her head in thanks. To Jiella, "I am at the weaver's booth, or can be contacted through there. I have some designs you could look at - I prefer to create the dress for the client, however." And here she is as proof of why that should most definitely happen! The tone Maitrey's got on brings a split-second smirk - though the vague bit about money has her arching a brow again his way. Slowly, "I revoked that, as you'll recall. You left me to be /barked at/. However, we'll see what can be arranged. If I see you." Again, she's hard to miss.
The amusement on T'rev's face in reaction to Maitrey's claimed need to go is subtle, mostly in the twinkle of his eyes. Easily missed by young ladies absorbed in cooing over golden satin. Amusement turns to bemusement at the exchange between weaver and harper, but he only nods Maitrey's way, says politely and sincerely: "Thank you for your company this afternoon, Maitrey. I'll see you around, I'm sure." Jiella meanwhile turns about and bobs a curtsey to the apprentice. "Oh you as well, Maitrey. I'll come by if you'd like to sketch me." Eyelash flutter. And then she's draping herself on T'rev's arm again. "I'll tell Mamma as soon as I see her and you may expect us before the Gather closes tomorrow," Jiella says to Amerie.
"I would be thrilled," Maitrey answers to Jiella without missing a beat, like it costs him absolutely no effort. There's a look, one paired with a quick twitch that will probably be a smirk when it grows up, that he casts to Amerie in response to her 'as you'll recall.' "Enjoy the party," are his parting words to the ladies, one slightly lower for T'rev; "Good luck." You poor sucker. Hands back in his pockets where he's less likely to go knocking elbows in the crowd, he ducks down one of the busier aisles and gets swallowed up by the Gather-goers.