Post by Kaya on Aug 5, 2013 19:08:14 GMT -8
| 75.08.26 | Late Morning |
Indistinct chatter filled the twisting paths between rows and rows of vendors. Bird calls and ocean waves floated in on the breeze that carried the much closer sound of a drum and flute of buskers and light applause. A wind chime called out intermittently, amongst calls of wares and goods. Fresh fish, freshly baked foods ready for the hungry market goer. The push and pull of the crowd was not unlike the ocean itself. A canine ran through legs and irritated shouts followed it. Let it never be said the marketplace at Cliffside was without life.
"Not much further," Rilora said, leaning close to D'gan to let her voice be heard over the crowd. A man bumped into her as she slowed to try to talk to the TigerRider. She exhaled sharply, thanked the sky that her foot was no worse for the encounter (though it had been close), and continued on. She'd be happy to reach the shop and be out of this crowd. She would have sworn to anyone that the market at Golden Flight was no where near as bad.
After another good stretch of being jostled and solicited by all manner of people in the market, Rilora turned into a shop only to have a child sitting inside grab the pouch of marks from her hip and dash into the back room. "Give that back, you brat!" she shouted, rather unladylike, at the fleeing boy. A man stepped from the back and stopped the youth with a hand placed firmly on the boy's head. "Darrin, give the nice lady back her purse." the adult ordered.
The boy turned around, returned the bag and started to retreat before the older man said, "All of it." The boy left another two marks on the shop counter before darting into the back.
The older man smiled as he shrugged and offered the Weyrwoman her money back. "Sir, for your help, I'm sure you've earned at least that much." she said, looking around the shop and seeing no one else. "Is your flitt out?" she asked, knowing full well the man did not own a firelizard, unless that had changed in the last couple sevendays. "I believe so, m'lady," he replied, moving to close the door. The outside noise immediately quieted. "Who might your friend be?"
"Ah, Lorell, meet D'gan, Wingleader, of Tiger Mosiliath. D'gan, likewise." She gestured between the two men. "What news then, Lorell?"
"Something quite interesting, m'lady. I should hope you find it equally so, quite the rare find," Lorell said, hand idly on the counter indicating his information's value. Rilora fiddled with her purse to signal she understood and the man continued. "As you know, my contacts hear a lot in such a busy place where good ears are worth their weight in gems. There's been too many instances of the Lady's name for our comfort. We suspect a plot, though that's hardly news at all. However we keep hearing tell of a Rider. One H'tel, and...I believe they said Blue, or something like it. Have you a man by that name?" Rilora looked stumped and turned to D'gan to see if he knew any such person. In any case, she did not like Lorell's news, useful as it was.
Indistinct chatter filled the twisting paths between rows and rows of vendors. Bird calls and ocean waves floated in on the breeze that carried the much closer sound of a drum and flute of buskers and light applause. A wind chime called out intermittently, amongst calls of wares and goods. Fresh fish, freshly baked foods ready for the hungry market goer. The push and pull of the crowd was not unlike the ocean itself. A canine ran through legs and irritated shouts followed it. Let it never be said the marketplace at Cliffside was without life.
"Not much further," Rilora said, leaning close to D'gan to let her voice be heard over the crowd. A man bumped into her as she slowed to try to talk to the TigerRider. She exhaled sharply, thanked the sky that her foot was no worse for the encounter (though it had been close), and continued on. She'd be happy to reach the shop and be out of this crowd. She would have sworn to anyone that the market at Golden Flight was no where near as bad.
After another good stretch of being jostled and solicited by all manner of people in the market, Rilora turned into a shop only to have a child sitting inside grab the pouch of marks from her hip and dash into the back room. "Give that back, you brat!" she shouted, rather unladylike, at the fleeing boy. A man stepped from the back and stopped the youth with a hand placed firmly on the boy's head. "Darrin, give the nice lady back her purse." the adult ordered.
The boy turned around, returned the bag and started to retreat before the older man said, "All of it." The boy left another two marks on the shop counter before darting into the back.
The older man smiled as he shrugged and offered the Weyrwoman her money back. "Sir, for your help, I'm sure you've earned at least that much." she said, looking around the shop and seeing no one else. "Is your flitt out?" she asked, knowing full well the man did not own a firelizard, unless that had changed in the last couple sevendays. "I believe so, m'lady," he replied, moving to close the door. The outside noise immediately quieted. "Who might your friend be?"
"Ah, Lorell, meet D'gan, Wingleader, of Tiger Mosiliath. D'gan, likewise." She gestured between the two men. "What news then, Lorell?"
"Something quite interesting, m'lady. I should hope you find it equally so, quite the rare find," Lorell said, hand idly on the counter indicating his information's value. Rilora fiddled with her purse to signal she understood and the man continued. "As you know, my contacts hear a lot in such a busy place where good ears are worth their weight in gems. There's been too many instances of the Lady's name for our comfort. We suspect a plot, though that's hardly news at all. However we keep hearing tell of a Rider. One H'tel, and...I believe they said Blue, or something like it. Have you a man by that name?" Rilora looked stumped and turned to D'gan to see if he knew any such person. In any case, she did not like Lorell's news, useful as it was.