[M'try] Nenita isn't sure if she likes M'try or thinks he's a sneak of some sort.
RL Date: 1/28/10
IC Date: 11/19/21 --Log title courtesy of an OOC comment Nenita-player made. :)
Market, Ista Weyr(#916RJ)
Clustered around the path leading between the beach and the jungle stands a diamond of eight wooden stalls, two to a side. Staffed by a kaleidoscope of Istans from around the island, the market features a changing array of local products from ubiquitous shell jewelry to season-conscious umbrellas and surfboards. It's Buyer Beware, though: the quality of the products varies, but then again so does the quality of salesmanship, and it's just as likely to find a overvalued rip-off as an underpriced treasure.
Open to the air when the weather is good, the market has several tools at its disposal to deal with less genial conditions. The round pit in the center of the stalls, which visitors may choose to skirt or gather around, can be used for a small bonfire on the rare cold days. A big, heavy stretch of oilcloth and a thinner gauze material have been bundled up and nailed to the trees just behind the market, ready to be stretched out for shelter or shade on days that are too rainy or too hot.
It's still the wet season, damnit. The air is thick and heavy even though it doesn't look like it's going to rain anytime soon today, in fact the sky looks clear. The area has its typical rustly activity, full but not /too/ full of people. Nenita is taking a stroll through the market with an oversized straw hat perched on her head to protect from the sun. Her dress is casual and the usual identifying knot is absent, though it doesn't stop the locals from recognizing her and making the occasional rank-related greeting while she stops at one of the booths. It's a local jeweler that has caught her attention and she busies herself with picking up an understated but pretty necklace and examining it closely.
M'try's been here long enough to have made a few purchases, by the stuffed look of the satchel slung across his shoulder. Now it's just snooping-- er, window-shopping, ever so casually strolling through the booths with a quiet word here and there for a vendor: "Have you got any...?" Along those lines. Kenning to one of Nenita's greetings, he spends a while surreptitiously tracking the good-afternoon-Weyrwoman until she stops, strolls right on up next to her; "Looks like cut glass to me, ma'am."
Nenita doesn't turn immediately to eyeball the strange, kind of scruffy looking guy that's shown up. Instead she holds the necklace up and examines it for a few more seconds before turning to M'try and holding it up to him too. "Are you familiar with the differences between jewel and glass?" She asks curiously when she finally breaks her gaze to check him out more thoroughly. There's a brief study of his face before her eyes drop down to his clothes and the inevitable look-see for the identifying knot.
The wet autumn season oppresses the island with high humidity and sweltering temperatures. At the height of mid-day, the sky is clear of clouds and the air hardly moves more than a whisper.
It is an autumn afternoon, 15:07 of day 19, month 11, turn 21 of Interval 10.
M'try's knot his on his jacket. And he's not wearing his jacket, because Ista is too freaking hot. So no identifying markers there, sorry-babe. "Familiar enough not to buy glass when I want jewels and vice versa, ma'am. I think a better question--" He feigns an interest in something garnet-y, a nice broach that's going to make him look totally flaming if he's dumb enough to try and wear it. Let's hope he's not. "--is whether or not you're familiar with the difference between jewel and glass?" Scruffy-looking, yes, but at least the kid has a nice, glossy pattern of speech, just screams Harper.
"I'll have to admit that I don't know the difference between glass and jewels. I suppose I just don't have as sophisticated an eye as some." Nenita lowers her necklace holding hand and gives the item another serious look over. "I also suppose that I don't care too much either. What's pretty is pretty, even if it is made from cut glass." There's the subtle hint of a smile before she turns away from him and turns to the trader at the booth, fishing the appropriate marks out of her pocket. "I think I can tell the difference between a rider and a harper who sleeps with dragons though."
M'try holds the broach up, right about where his knot would be, and gives one of those 'what do you think?' looks to Nenita. Yes? No? (No. The correct answer is no.) The trader gets a casual smile for his solicitous interest; not that M'try looks much like a shoplifter, but one can't blame the man for paranoia, perhaps. "Which is to say," he picks up, a little more forthcoming with his own smile even if it is smirky, "that you're a better judge of character than quality? Or was it a subtle request for an introduction?"
Nenita pays for her new necklace and declines the offer of a little cloth bag and instead puts it on then. The scruffy-harper-possible-rider young man's broach is given a critical eye and she silently turns away, scanning the other goods on the table. Ah, a blatently fake tiara with little green stones decorating it. Perfect. Right? Either way this is what she picks up all the while giving him a shake of her head. "You have nice eyes. You should try to bring them out more, I think this would be more appropriate. And I don't really like red." In case he needed to know. "Or maybe just that I'm better at picking out hints about people than items. And of course, an introduction would be nice. Seeing as how you've figured me out already."
"I've always been superstitious," M'try says sadly. Green. He hands the trader the broach back with an apologetic look-- no sale-- then dutifully lowers his head far enough that, if Nenita's feeling that kind of generous, she could help him try on the tiara. He left his masculinity at home, obviously. "But I've also always had no fashion sense whatsoever, so if you think it's suiting... M'try, who counts himself among Fort's weyrlings. And who also heard through the grapevine that I could get paper cheap at Ista. Convenient, that."
Nenita does in fact go to place the tiara on his head, toe-lifting to do it even if she doesn't really have to. Probably just habit. "I heard recently that this is all the rage down south, these things. I think that if anything you'll be on the cutting edge of fashion now, even if some others up here don't agree." He's shot a tiny smirk of a smile before her eyebrows lift at his introductions. "Really. I didn't know that paper could be found at bargain rates here, but then again I'm not expert at surveying that particular market. Do you often go price shopping?"
M'try straightens once it's on his head, reaching up with one hand like he needs to straighten the tiara. Really, what he does is purposefully sets it slightly askew, really driving home the looks-very-gay point. "I'm not sure that I have the shoes to match it. Though I saw some lovely silver dancing slippers." A little lispy, that last, while he looks over the top of Nenita's head toward where he saw said imaginary slippers. Truthfully, if still feigning distraction, he answers, "No, ma'am, I don't. I rarely purchased it outside the Hall at all, actually, but it's hard to come by these days. So here I am, paying more than I'd like to." Woe is he, sigh.
Nenita snorts, shaking her head. "Are the rest of your classmates as undeniably goofy as yourself? Or this is a special trait you've learned to pick up from your time at the harper hall? Something you learned in a class?" She doesn't seem to believe him that there are dancing slippers at a point behind her, but she does glance back briefly before re-affirming her attentions onto him. Chin lifted, "Fort Weyr doesn't have any paper at all? Nothing they can provide for you?"
With a shocked-looking blink blink blink, M'try comments, "I think, ma'am, that you've just insulted the Harper Hall." As if that somehow affects things, he takes the tiara off at that point, holding it by one end to give it a last look before reaching to hand it back to her. To answer her first question; "It would certainly be inconvenient if Fort Weyr had no paper whatsoever, don't you think? No, they have their fair share, but my needs extend beyond their current stock. I sketch, I paint, I need better paper than the dregs currently in the Weyr's possession." Smile. Shrug.
"But not yourself?" Nenita asks, that early hint of a smirk returning as she takes the tiara back. She hardly even glances at it again before she carefully places it where it came from. "I see. So you're continuing your art. Plenty of other people simply leave it behind upon impression, I guess that could be viewed as a virtuous aspect. The continuing that is." Her hand comes to her throat to idly play with her new necklace, glancing past him for a moment. "It's not insulting to say that Fort has dregs?"
Still surprised if not /shocked/ now, M'try asks, "Were you trying to insult me?" They could so easily be sad puppy-dog eyes, pretty and green and tragic if someone were so cruel as to intentionally seek to hurt is precious ickle feelings. But seriously-- "It is not a virtue, I assure you." Pardon the secret smile. Ahem; "No, it's a fact to say that Fort has dregs. Surely you've heard about the supply issues, Weyrwoman?" /Surely,/ with a certain pointedly direct look down at her.
Nenita shrugs her shoulders, almost non-committal if not for that slight quirking of her mouth. Just a little humored pull to the side, really. Nothing condescending there. "No? I thought being an artist or a harper or whatever you are was supposed to have some sort of nobility to it. I hear you people get more girls than say, the tanners." As for that whole Fort being short on supplies her hand lifts away from the necklace and gives a little wave. "Right, right. Fort and the supply issues and people on boats and murder." She pointedly looks up (surprise) and furrows her eyebrows thoughtfully, deep thinking here. "Hasn't your weyrling class taken a hit recently? Misplaced the Weyrleader's sister?"
M'try can only smile through her musing about the perks of being a harper, not arguing but sure as heck not agreeing with it, either. One doesn't go all the way to Ista to argue with the Weyrwoman about how often one gets laid, after all. "Right, right," he echoes, clearing his throat, clasping his hands into the small of his back, rocking onto his toes. "Fort and the supply issues and we're generally not being so cavalier about it, but I suppose it must not seem so critical if you're not mired in it." Another rock to his toes, a purse of his lips, and he answers with leaden seriousness, "She was kidnapped, madam."
"No, I suppose that it doesn't seem so critical to me." Nenita has to agree with a thoughtful roll of her eyes to the sky above. "Make no mistake though, Ista hasn't been invulnerable to all that trouble going on west of us. We've taken precautions to make sure we're protected, we won't lose another ship. One was more than enough." Her eyes drop down and the change from smiling and goofy to leaden serious is taken in, if not outwardly commented upon for sure. Whatever transpires mentally in her own little head is surely a mystery but she'll continue saying next, "Forward my condolences on the situation to T'rev. If Ista can be of any assistance we won't hesistate to lend a hand."
Certain; "I make absolutely no mistake about Ista's vulnerability." M'try clears his throat there again, resumes his previous levity in tone and expression if not in all honesty. "I'll be sure to pass that along, Weyrwoman. If you happen upon an attractive blond sans one green dragon, do let us know?" With that, "I'll spare you from having to make up a convenient excuse to extricate yourself from the company of one of Fort's weyrlings." Lowly beings that they are. "As I hope to do a bit more looking around before heading back to my own Weyr."
"Should one of my riders or myself see such a woman we'll be certain to collect her for you. And send her safely back to where she belongs." Nenita's face again forms just the vaguest expression of amusement before giving him a simple wave of her hand. "Unnecessary but appreciated. These traders have probably been watching us with near rapt attention they entire time we've been speaking, you might find the prices of paper have dropped a little since you asked before." She casts a long glance towards the man in the booth they're standing in front of before giving M'try a proper, polite smile. "Do stop by again."
"Which would be fantastic," the price of paper, "had I not already bought what I need. Perhaps next time, provided our little supply problem doesn't clear itself up between now and then." M'try lifts one hand, shows his hopefully crossed fingers that the situation isn't still ongoing, then reclasps his hands behind his back where they belong. "I will," he pretty much promises. "Enjoy the fine weather, ma'am." Joke. He steps back, letting her take her leave before he goes and, uhmn, shops some more.
"Mmm. Perhaps." Nenita watches the act of crossing fingers and reclasped hands. "Oh, I will. Until next time then, M'try. Who counts himself among Fort's weyrlings." If the original look over at the beginning of their conversation wasn't enough, she gives him just one more. This time it's more serious, like a person who's committing something important to memory. A final brief smile before she takes herself, her hat and her necklace and leaves.
IC Date: 11/19/21 --Log title courtesy of an OOC comment Nenita-player made. :)
Market, Ista Weyr(#916RJ)
Clustered around the path leading between the beach and the jungle stands a diamond of eight wooden stalls, two to a side. Staffed by a kaleidoscope of Istans from around the island, the market features a changing array of local products from ubiquitous shell jewelry to season-conscious umbrellas and surfboards. It's Buyer Beware, though: the quality of the products varies, but then again so does the quality of salesmanship, and it's just as likely to find a overvalued rip-off as an underpriced treasure.
Open to the air when the weather is good, the market has several tools at its disposal to deal with less genial conditions. The round pit in the center of the stalls, which visitors may choose to skirt or gather around, can be used for a small bonfire on the rare cold days. A big, heavy stretch of oilcloth and a thinner gauze material have been bundled up and nailed to the trees just behind the market, ready to be stretched out for shelter or shade on days that are too rainy or too hot.
It's still the wet season, damnit. The air is thick and heavy even though it doesn't look like it's going to rain anytime soon today, in fact the sky looks clear. The area has its typical rustly activity, full but not /too/ full of people. Nenita is taking a stroll through the market with an oversized straw hat perched on her head to protect from the sun. Her dress is casual and the usual identifying knot is absent, though it doesn't stop the locals from recognizing her and making the occasional rank-related greeting while she stops at one of the booths. It's a local jeweler that has caught her attention and she busies herself with picking up an understated but pretty necklace and examining it closely.
M'try's been here long enough to have made a few purchases, by the stuffed look of the satchel slung across his shoulder. Now it's just snooping-- er, window-shopping, ever so casually strolling through the booths with a quiet word here and there for a vendor: "Have you got any...?" Along those lines. Kenning to one of Nenita's greetings, he spends a while surreptitiously tracking the good-afternoon-Weyrwoman until she stops, strolls right on up next to her; "Looks like cut glass to me, ma'am."
Nenita doesn't turn immediately to eyeball the strange, kind of scruffy looking guy that's shown up. Instead she holds the necklace up and examines it for a few more seconds before turning to M'try and holding it up to him too. "Are you familiar with the differences between jewel and glass?" She asks curiously when she finally breaks her gaze to check him out more thoroughly. There's a brief study of his face before her eyes drop down to his clothes and the inevitable look-see for the identifying knot.
The wet autumn season oppresses the island with high humidity and sweltering temperatures. At the height of mid-day, the sky is clear of clouds and the air hardly moves more than a whisper.
It is an autumn afternoon, 15:07 of day 19, month 11, turn 21 of Interval 10.
M'try's knot his on his jacket. And he's not wearing his jacket, because Ista is too freaking hot. So no identifying markers there, sorry-babe. "Familiar enough not to buy glass when I want jewels and vice versa, ma'am. I think a better question--" He feigns an interest in something garnet-y, a nice broach that's going to make him look totally flaming if he's dumb enough to try and wear it. Let's hope he's not. "--is whether or not you're familiar with the difference between jewel and glass?" Scruffy-looking, yes, but at least the kid has a nice, glossy pattern of speech, just screams Harper.
"I'll have to admit that I don't know the difference between glass and jewels. I suppose I just don't have as sophisticated an eye as some." Nenita lowers her necklace holding hand and gives the item another serious look over. "I also suppose that I don't care too much either. What's pretty is pretty, even if it is made from cut glass." There's the subtle hint of a smile before she turns away from him and turns to the trader at the booth, fishing the appropriate marks out of her pocket. "I think I can tell the difference between a rider and a harper who sleeps with dragons though."
M'try holds the broach up, right about where his knot would be, and gives one of those 'what do you think?' looks to Nenita. Yes? No? (No. The correct answer is no.) The trader gets a casual smile for his solicitous interest; not that M'try looks much like a shoplifter, but one can't blame the man for paranoia, perhaps. "Which is to say," he picks up, a little more forthcoming with his own smile even if it is smirky, "that you're a better judge of character than quality? Or was it a subtle request for an introduction?"
Nenita pays for her new necklace and declines the offer of a little cloth bag and instead puts it on then. The scruffy-harper-possible-rider young man's broach is given a critical eye and she silently turns away, scanning the other goods on the table. Ah, a blatently fake tiara with little green stones decorating it. Perfect. Right? Either way this is what she picks up all the while giving him a shake of her head. "You have nice eyes. You should try to bring them out more, I think this would be more appropriate. And I don't really like red." In case he needed to know. "Or maybe just that I'm better at picking out hints about people than items. And of course, an introduction would be nice. Seeing as how you've figured me out already."
"I've always been superstitious," M'try says sadly. Green. He hands the trader the broach back with an apologetic look-- no sale-- then dutifully lowers his head far enough that, if Nenita's feeling that kind of generous, she could help him try on the tiara. He left his masculinity at home, obviously. "But I've also always had no fashion sense whatsoever, so if you think it's suiting... M'try, who counts himself among Fort's weyrlings. And who also heard through the grapevine that I could get paper cheap at Ista. Convenient, that."
Nenita does in fact go to place the tiara on his head, toe-lifting to do it even if she doesn't really have to. Probably just habit. "I heard recently that this is all the rage down south, these things. I think that if anything you'll be on the cutting edge of fashion now, even if some others up here don't agree." He's shot a tiny smirk of a smile before her eyebrows lift at his introductions. "Really. I didn't know that paper could be found at bargain rates here, but then again I'm not expert at surveying that particular market. Do you often go price shopping?"
M'try straightens once it's on his head, reaching up with one hand like he needs to straighten the tiara. Really, what he does is purposefully sets it slightly askew, really driving home the looks-very-gay point. "I'm not sure that I have the shoes to match it. Though I saw some lovely silver dancing slippers." A little lispy, that last, while he looks over the top of Nenita's head toward where he saw said imaginary slippers. Truthfully, if still feigning distraction, he answers, "No, ma'am, I don't. I rarely purchased it outside the Hall at all, actually, but it's hard to come by these days. So here I am, paying more than I'd like to." Woe is he, sigh.
Nenita snorts, shaking her head. "Are the rest of your classmates as undeniably goofy as yourself? Or this is a special trait you've learned to pick up from your time at the harper hall? Something you learned in a class?" She doesn't seem to believe him that there are dancing slippers at a point behind her, but she does glance back briefly before re-affirming her attentions onto him. Chin lifted, "Fort Weyr doesn't have any paper at all? Nothing they can provide for you?"
With a shocked-looking blink blink blink, M'try comments, "I think, ma'am, that you've just insulted the Harper Hall." As if that somehow affects things, he takes the tiara off at that point, holding it by one end to give it a last look before reaching to hand it back to her. To answer her first question; "It would certainly be inconvenient if Fort Weyr had no paper whatsoever, don't you think? No, they have their fair share, but my needs extend beyond their current stock. I sketch, I paint, I need better paper than the dregs currently in the Weyr's possession." Smile. Shrug.
"But not yourself?" Nenita asks, that early hint of a smirk returning as she takes the tiara back. She hardly even glances at it again before she carefully places it where it came from. "I see. So you're continuing your art. Plenty of other people simply leave it behind upon impression, I guess that could be viewed as a virtuous aspect. The continuing that is." Her hand comes to her throat to idly play with her new necklace, glancing past him for a moment. "It's not insulting to say that Fort has dregs?"
Still surprised if not /shocked/ now, M'try asks, "Were you trying to insult me?" They could so easily be sad puppy-dog eyes, pretty and green and tragic if someone were so cruel as to intentionally seek to hurt is precious ickle feelings. But seriously-- "It is not a virtue, I assure you." Pardon the secret smile. Ahem; "No, it's a fact to say that Fort has dregs. Surely you've heard about the supply issues, Weyrwoman?" /Surely,/ with a certain pointedly direct look down at her.
Nenita shrugs her shoulders, almost non-committal if not for that slight quirking of her mouth. Just a little humored pull to the side, really. Nothing condescending there. "No? I thought being an artist or a harper or whatever you are was supposed to have some sort of nobility to it. I hear you people get more girls than say, the tanners." As for that whole Fort being short on supplies her hand lifts away from the necklace and gives a little wave. "Right, right. Fort and the supply issues and people on boats and murder." She pointedly looks up (surprise) and furrows her eyebrows thoughtfully, deep thinking here. "Hasn't your weyrling class taken a hit recently? Misplaced the Weyrleader's sister?"
M'try can only smile through her musing about the perks of being a harper, not arguing but sure as heck not agreeing with it, either. One doesn't go all the way to Ista to argue with the Weyrwoman about how often one gets laid, after all. "Right, right," he echoes, clearing his throat, clasping his hands into the small of his back, rocking onto his toes. "Fort and the supply issues and we're generally not being so cavalier about it, but I suppose it must not seem so critical if you're not mired in it." Another rock to his toes, a purse of his lips, and he answers with leaden seriousness, "She was kidnapped, madam."
"No, I suppose that it doesn't seem so critical to me." Nenita has to agree with a thoughtful roll of her eyes to the sky above. "Make no mistake though, Ista hasn't been invulnerable to all that trouble going on west of us. We've taken precautions to make sure we're protected, we won't lose another ship. One was more than enough." Her eyes drop down and the change from smiling and goofy to leaden serious is taken in, if not outwardly commented upon for sure. Whatever transpires mentally in her own little head is surely a mystery but she'll continue saying next, "Forward my condolences on the situation to T'rev. If Ista can be of any assistance we won't hesistate to lend a hand."
Certain; "I make absolutely no mistake about Ista's vulnerability." M'try clears his throat there again, resumes his previous levity in tone and expression if not in all honesty. "I'll be sure to pass that along, Weyrwoman. If you happen upon an attractive blond sans one green dragon, do let us know?" With that, "I'll spare you from having to make up a convenient excuse to extricate yourself from the company of one of Fort's weyrlings." Lowly beings that they are. "As I hope to do a bit more looking around before heading back to my own Weyr."
"Should one of my riders or myself see such a woman we'll be certain to collect her for you. And send her safely back to where she belongs." Nenita's face again forms just the vaguest expression of amusement before giving him a simple wave of her hand. "Unnecessary but appreciated. These traders have probably been watching us with near rapt attention they entire time we've been speaking, you might find the prices of paper have dropped a little since you asked before." She casts a long glance towards the man in the booth they're standing in front of before giving M'try a proper, polite smile. "Do stop by again."
"Which would be fantastic," the price of paper, "had I not already bought what I need. Perhaps next time, provided our little supply problem doesn't clear itself up between now and then." M'try lifts one hand, shows his hopefully crossed fingers that the situation isn't still ongoing, then reclasps his hands behind his back where they belong. "I will," he pretty much promises. "Enjoy the fine weather, ma'am." Joke. He steps back, letting her take her leave before he goes and, uhmn, shops some more.
"Mmm. Perhaps." Nenita watches the act of crossing fingers and reclasped hands. "Oh, I will. Until next time then, M'try. Who counts himself among Fort's weyrlings." If the original look over at the beginning of their conversation wasn't enough, she gives him just one more. This time it's more serious, like a person who's committing something important to memory. A final brief smile before she takes herself, her hat and her necklace and leaves.