[Log] Local color
Who: Javeri, Chadamalith, P'traul
What: P'traul propositions Javeri in regards to her rumoured enterprise, and then asks for a favour. A teeny tiny little favour.
Where: Jungles, Ista Weyr
When: It is a spring afternoon, 18:18 of day 7, month 4, turn 19 of Interval 10.
This time between official weyrlinghood and official riderhood is stretching on and on and even some of P'traul's clutchmates have muttered (privately of course) that really, couldn't the wingleaders just get it over with and spare this agonizing waiting? They've occupied the time with whatever they can: Paul, it seems, has been seen more and more loitering around the Sandbar, perhaps not notably so but enough that it's uncharacteristic for the once-Holder boy. But today P'traul is a man on a mission. Through Yjimeth, a questing tendril seeks out Chadamalith, business-like, sombre. Does Javeri have time for proposition of sorts?
If Javeri was spending time at the Sandbar before now she's spending most every waking minute. At least some days. But today she was not there at all or anywhere at the Weyr in fact. But recently her and her blue got home if not back to their own weyr. Instead they're down in the jungle observing a couple of fruit trees that are just starting to grow heavy with the sharp sweet citrus fruits Chadamalith loves. Their contemplation of the trees is not so important that when his clutchbrother sends that tendril he does not offer assent. Of course they have all the time in the world. There is always more time made after all. When the pair is found in the clearing their sprawled out in their own spaces doing little of anything.
Only moment later, wingbeats might be heard some distance away, and after some muttered grunting and shoving at clingy vines, P'traul arrives, triumphant against the evil jungle, even giving one root a good stomp for good measure. Stupid jungle. But once he's beaten his way into the fruit grove, to he offers a wide smile to the jungle at large, spreading his hands in front of him as he approaches; clearly, he's got something in mind as he exclaims, ever the genteel son of a Holder, "Javeri! The woman of the hour!" Well. He exclaims it downwards to her, and only seems a little put off when he's got to tilt his head. A dramatic entry, ruined. Hmph. Nevertheless: "How are you? Chadamlith is looking /handsome/. As are you, I might add." Nope. No ulterior motives at work here.
Despite having been out and about Javeri's still dressed for Istan weather. Her riding gear is thrown to the side and she's got on shorts and a loose top instead. A bit sweaty, even dirty here and there from jungle tromping. Eyes narrow just a moment at that greeting, but then she's smiling widely and laughing. "I don't have any marks to spare, P'traul," she tells him with a wink. "So, if you're looking for a loan I suggest looking elsewhere."
P'traul look positively /offended/, his mouth curling down into a hurt moue. "Why /Veri/," he drawls out her nickname with a sigh, and only the twitch at the corner of his lips bely his completely-not-offendedness-at-all, "I'm insulted. Nevermind that's certainly not what I'd like to speak with you. Actually," he continues brightly, "Something of the opposite type. See, I've been spending some time lately down at the Sandbar, you know." Conversationally. Casually. "And I've heard some about your latest," he pauses, for effect, then says with a particular sort of look at the bluerider, along with a slight lifting of his eyebrows, "enterprise." And lets it hang there, in the air, likely much too theatrical to be taken seriously. See what she has to say about that!
Standing up Javeri moves closer to Chadamalith to lean against him. The blue doesn't seem to mind being busy watching the tree. "Well, if you're here to pay me marks then be welcome!" she tells him with a loud laugh. "Because that's one less person I have to talk into loaning it to me." An eyebrow raises as she grins at the brownrider. "The enterprise even has a name now," he gets informed before she waves one hand at him. Carry on.
"Now here's the thing," Paul lifts a finger, as though giving a second thought to rushing headlong into throwing marks Javeri's way. "I could. Potentially. Have some marks to lend into your endeavour, but only after my own lenders," (read, mother and father) "could be convinced it would be a favourable investment on their part. So what I'm suggesting," he lifts his chin, "is a trade. A loan of sorts. You know, like... collateral, so we could get a feel for your -- oh," P'traul interrupts himself with a flash of excitment, slipping out of his carefully crafted air. "What's it called?"
He's got all her attention while he talks. Javeri lifts a hand to tuck a braid behind her ear when it flops into her eye, but other than that she's giving him a careful consideration. "I have gotten weyrwoman Fayre to invest in my project," she says by way of assurance. P'draig too, but some might think that a more personal thing rather than him thinking it a good business. So he just doesn't get mentioned! "What's what called? Honestly, P'traul other than trading for my pottery I've not much business experience. But I /know/ this idea will work. I know we're going do real well and one way or the other I /will/ pay back all my investors every last sixteenth they put into the Layabout."
After all his careful work keeping up his professional attitude, P'traul finally deflates all at once and is just round-eyed and listening as Javeri turns all serious on him. "I meant," he interjects, "you said the enterprise had a name. Wanted to know what it was." But he seems reasonably reassured by her emphatic response, so he'll tell her candidly, "Well -- what I had in mind was a bit different. It'll take a bit of convincing and time to get you the marks. So in the meantime, I'll offer you my labour. I mean, me and Yjimeth. If you'll use it. And -- only ask for a favour in return. A teensy little favour. Real little." He pinches his index finger and thumb in front of his eye. Thiiis little.
"I'm no trader," Javeri admits with a laugh when all the professional talk gets derailed. "I just want to do something to bring more people to the Weyr to see how beautiful it is. And make us some marks too." Listening further to what he says she breaks into a wide grin. "Labor is good. The whole ship's going to need to be cleaned and remodeled." Then she looks at him more seriously and asks him, "What favor? That is so teensy. Teeny tiny little favor?"
P'traul chuckles, too, when his clutchmate does, and takes a few short steps forward to present her his hand, all officious-like. "Here. I'll agree to the first now and then that way if you say no the second bit you've got me hooped." He doesn't seem to mind, either way, so even if she declines to shake his hand he continues, this time with a more earnest wrinkle to his forehead, "I -- um. Lately been, you know, trying to get into the spirit of Ista. What it's like to really be Istan." So boozing and lazing and nudity on the beach seems to sum it up, mostly. Maybe some surfing. "-- really haven't been successful. Well. Hard to be unsuccessful at the drinking, but the rest..." He trails off, picks up with a red-cheeked mutter, "You know. Women. Things." Brown eyes turn up, eager. "But you seem really good at it! So. teach me your ways, oh wise master? When you've got spare time from making thousand of marks and holding classy boat parties and things."
There's no hesitation on shaking on the deal. Javeri grins as she does so and tells him, "Now I'm all worried what you want." But then he goes on and tells her and by the time he's done she's nearly laughing. Not quite though since she doesn't want him to think she's laughing /at/ him. "Shells, P'traul. Be happy to show you what you want to know. Not that I've picked up a lot of women though." He gets a wink and then she does laugh. "But, yes. I would be honored to teach you all I know. Any excuse to get to legitimately hang out on the beach and all! And in return you can attend my classy parties as local color."
With that shake comes the promise of labour, and, at some point in the future, marks to support the undertaking. And then Javeri's agreeing to her end of the deal, too, and P'traul breaks into a wide grin that whisks away any previous chagrin, even at her not-quite-laughing, and he answers with a hearty clasp at her hand. "I didn't mean to say that you did! But if there's anyone who's more Istan than you, I don't think I've met them. It's a deal, then. I even have a proper suit I could wear!" To that classy party, of course, but if he's expected to act as local colour then maybe he'll just wear a /swim/suit instead. And like any proper business man he'll linger and chat for a while longer, but not for too long -- there's Chadamlith to leave to fruit-watching, and P'traul will return to Sandbar. For, you know. Practise.
What: P'traul propositions Javeri in regards to her rumoured enterprise, and then asks for a favour. A teeny tiny little favour.
Where: Jungles, Ista Weyr
When: It is a spring afternoon, 18:18 of day 7, month 4, turn 19 of Interval 10.
This time between official weyrlinghood and official riderhood is stretching on and on and even some of P'traul's clutchmates have muttered (privately of course) that really, couldn't the wingleaders just get it over with and spare this agonizing waiting? They've occupied the time with whatever they can: Paul, it seems, has been seen more and more loitering around the Sandbar, perhaps not notably so but enough that it's uncharacteristic for the once-Holder boy. But today P'traul is a man on a mission. Through Yjimeth, a questing tendril seeks out Chadamalith, business-like, sombre. Does Javeri have time for proposition of sorts?
If Javeri was spending time at the Sandbar before now she's spending most every waking minute. At least some days. But today she was not there at all or anywhere at the Weyr in fact. But recently her and her blue got home if not back to their own weyr. Instead they're down in the jungle observing a couple of fruit trees that are just starting to grow heavy with the sharp sweet citrus fruits Chadamalith loves. Their contemplation of the trees is not so important that when his clutchbrother sends that tendril he does not offer assent. Of course they have all the time in the world. There is always more time made after all. When the pair is found in the clearing their sprawled out in their own spaces doing little of anything.
Only moment later, wingbeats might be heard some distance away, and after some muttered grunting and shoving at clingy vines, P'traul arrives, triumphant against the evil jungle, even giving one root a good stomp for good measure. Stupid jungle. But once he's beaten his way into the fruit grove, to he offers a wide smile to the jungle at large, spreading his hands in front of him as he approaches; clearly, he's got something in mind as he exclaims, ever the genteel son of a Holder, "Javeri! The woman of the hour!" Well. He exclaims it downwards to her, and only seems a little put off when he's got to tilt his head. A dramatic entry, ruined. Hmph. Nevertheless: "How are you? Chadamlith is looking /handsome/. As are you, I might add." Nope. No ulterior motives at work here.
Despite having been out and about Javeri's still dressed for Istan weather. Her riding gear is thrown to the side and she's got on shorts and a loose top instead. A bit sweaty, even dirty here and there from jungle tromping. Eyes narrow just a moment at that greeting, but then she's smiling widely and laughing. "I don't have any marks to spare, P'traul," she tells him with a wink. "So, if you're looking for a loan I suggest looking elsewhere."
P'traul look positively /offended/, his mouth curling down into a hurt moue. "Why /Veri/," he drawls out her nickname with a sigh, and only the twitch at the corner of his lips bely his completely-not-offendedness-at-all, "I'm insulted. Nevermind that's certainly not what I'd like to speak with you. Actually," he continues brightly, "Something of the opposite type. See, I've been spending some time lately down at the Sandbar, you know." Conversationally. Casually. "And I've heard some about your latest," he pauses, for effect, then says with a particular sort of look at the bluerider, along with a slight lifting of his eyebrows, "enterprise." And lets it hang there, in the air, likely much too theatrical to be taken seriously. See what she has to say about that!
Standing up Javeri moves closer to Chadamalith to lean against him. The blue doesn't seem to mind being busy watching the tree. "Well, if you're here to pay me marks then be welcome!" she tells him with a loud laugh. "Because that's one less person I have to talk into loaning it to me." An eyebrow raises as she grins at the brownrider. "The enterprise even has a name now," he gets informed before she waves one hand at him. Carry on.
"Now here's the thing," Paul lifts a finger, as though giving a second thought to rushing headlong into throwing marks Javeri's way. "I could. Potentially. Have some marks to lend into your endeavour, but only after my own lenders," (read, mother and father) "could be convinced it would be a favourable investment on their part. So what I'm suggesting," he lifts his chin, "is a trade. A loan of sorts. You know, like... collateral, so we could get a feel for your -- oh," P'traul interrupts himself with a flash of excitment, slipping out of his carefully crafted air. "What's it called?"
He's got all her attention while he talks. Javeri lifts a hand to tuck a braid behind her ear when it flops into her eye, but other than that she's giving him a careful consideration. "I have gotten weyrwoman Fayre to invest in my project," she says by way of assurance. P'draig too, but some might think that a more personal thing rather than him thinking it a good business. So he just doesn't get mentioned! "What's what called? Honestly, P'traul other than trading for my pottery I've not much business experience. But I /know/ this idea will work. I know we're going do real well and one way or the other I /will/ pay back all my investors every last sixteenth they put into the Layabout."
After all his careful work keeping up his professional attitude, P'traul finally deflates all at once and is just round-eyed and listening as Javeri turns all serious on him. "I meant," he interjects, "you said the enterprise had a name. Wanted to know what it was." But he seems reasonably reassured by her emphatic response, so he'll tell her candidly, "Well -- what I had in mind was a bit different. It'll take a bit of convincing and time to get you the marks. So in the meantime, I'll offer you my labour. I mean, me and Yjimeth. If you'll use it. And -- only ask for a favour in return. A teensy little favour. Real little." He pinches his index finger and thumb in front of his eye. Thiiis little.
"I'm no trader," Javeri admits with a laugh when all the professional talk gets derailed. "I just want to do something to bring more people to the Weyr to see how beautiful it is. And make us some marks too." Listening further to what he says she breaks into a wide grin. "Labor is good. The whole ship's going to need to be cleaned and remodeled." Then she looks at him more seriously and asks him, "What favor? That is so teensy. Teeny tiny little favor?"
P'traul chuckles, too, when his clutchmate does, and takes a few short steps forward to present her his hand, all officious-like. "Here. I'll agree to the first now and then that way if you say no the second bit you've got me hooped." He doesn't seem to mind, either way, so even if she declines to shake his hand he continues, this time with a more earnest wrinkle to his forehead, "I -- um. Lately been, you know, trying to get into the spirit of Ista. What it's like to really be Istan." So boozing and lazing and nudity on the beach seems to sum it up, mostly. Maybe some surfing. "-- really haven't been successful. Well. Hard to be unsuccessful at the drinking, but the rest..." He trails off, picks up with a red-cheeked mutter, "You know. Women. Things." Brown eyes turn up, eager. "But you seem really good at it! So. teach me your ways, oh wise master? When you've got spare time from making thousand of marks and holding classy boat parties and things."
There's no hesitation on shaking on the deal. Javeri grins as she does so and tells him, "Now I'm all worried what you want." But then he goes on and tells her and by the time he's done she's nearly laughing. Not quite though since she doesn't want him to think she's laughing /at/ him. "Shells, P'traul. Be happy to show you what you want to know. Not that I've picked up a lot of women though." He gets a wink and then she does laugh. "But, yes. I would be honored to teach you all I know. Any excuse to get to legitimately hang out on the beach and all! And in return you can attend my classy parties as local color."
With that shake comes the promise of labour, and, at some point in the future, marks to support the undertaking. And then Javeri's agreeing to her end of the deal, too, and P'traul breaks into a wide grin that whisks away any previous chagrin, even at her not-quite-laughing, and he answers with a hearty clasp at her hand. "I didn't mean to say that you did! But if there's anyone who's more Istan than you, I don't think I've met them. It's a deal, then. I even have a proper suit I could wear!" To that classy party, of course, but if he's expected to act as local colour then maybe he'll just wear a /swim/suit instead. And like any proper business man he'll linger and chat for a while longer, but not for too long -- there's Chadamlith to leave to fruit-watching, and P'traul will return to Sandbar. For, you know. Practise.