==== December 16, 2013
==== Jhael, Maryam, We'bey
==== Maryam and We'bs take in the bazaar, they meet a juggler.

Who Jhael, Maryam, We'bey
What Maryam and We'bs take in the bazaar, they meet a juggler.
When 5 months and 15 days until the 12th pass.
Where Keroon's Gather


Keroon Hold Gather Grounds
Frivolities and festivity: those are the words to describe the main fairgrounds of Keroon, done in bold colors of yellow, white and green. The runnertrack is in near-constant use, as much of a staple of this Gather as the stockyards where the best-of-the-best livestock can be procured. More mundane vendors have set long lines of tents up: fabrics and dresses, foodstuffs and trinkets, exotic spices and hairdressers - whatever may catch a person's fancy can be found within those stalls. Closer to the Hold, the part of the courtyard opening into The Hitching Post has been cleared and neatly staked off, for-sure delegated to the masquerade ball.

We'bey would, of course, never miss an opportunity to look fabulous - especially more fabulous than normal. The male's languid stroll through the booths of Keroon's gather is taken in blue tights, a silver stripe down one side, matching blue tunic, and of course a well placed feather. Who could resist? At the moment is elbow rests upon the counter of man of cloth - his chin propped up in his hand as his free fingers twirl lazily at different fabrics he'd like to feel, to see, to touch. Delightful. One could do this all day. "What do you think, love, I was born yesterday?" Even calling the man out sounds more like a purr than a bite, "Come 'on then. I know you have better quality in that color." Throwing the man a wink he waits for his requested item.

Frivolity and festivity aren't exactly high on Maryam's list of to-do's, but she has been trying to branch out lately. And today? That means attending a Gather away from the Weyr or Igen Hold. It also makes this a special occasion, and for such, she's opted to go without a turban. Her blonde head is exposed, uncovered, unadorned, if one doesn't count the twists and turns of the intricate braids that are all the rage in the fashion world right now. Tiny chips of some clear faceted stone have been affixed to ribbons and wound through the braids to catch the light, matching the winking stones that line the hem of the translucent veil that stretches (as usual) over her nose and lower face. Her kirtle is a maiden's shade of pink, with buttons also made of that flashing stone- a pretty foil to the blue and silver We'bey wears, as she steps in behind him to peep over his shoulder at the fabric he's haggling over. "I thought we were not to work at a Gather."

Someone has managed to catch Jhael and scrubbed him within an inch of his life. Even now, hours later, his skin still is slightly raw. On the upside however, he is clean and has been pressed into entertainment work for which is the Zingari stock and trade. No fire in these crowds, instead Jhael wanders throwing brightly coloured scarves upwards into the air. One eye is fixed on those scarves making sure they do not flutter away in the wind, the other fixed on the people around him. There is a vague familiarity in one of the voices he hears as he moves and so he slows, tossing the scarves in place for a moment to listen.

A voice the lithe lad would know anywhere, and his long neck lolls to one side so he can turn around to look at her, only to find surprise in seeing more than her eyes. "Maryam, love." The slow easing smile draws the male completely, "No work, m'dear? But don't you want me to have any fun at all?" Eyes all a twinkle as he eases himself up from the counter, and moves away from the booth, leaving the merchant confused when he returns with a draping of cloth for the rider to inspect. Only We'bey isn't known for waiting and so he's drawing his oldest friend away with him, "Look, juggling." Not that he's ever really shown an interesting in entertainment, especially of the traveler variety, but the cloth of the scarves catches his eye. "How have you been, dear? Strange to find you here with out an escort, have they granted you more freedom then?"

Jugglers are more interesting if Maryam. Less with the open delight and more the calm interest, however. Without even needing the invitation, she tucks her hand in the crook of We'bey's elbow and tilts her regard in the direction of the entertainer. "I have permission to attend. Some of the other women are here, I was with Anyta but she let me come over when we saw you were here. Will you be my chaperon this afternoon, dearheart?" There's a hint of amusement in the question, but rather more of a serious nature: without an escort, what will she do? Her head dips nearer to the greenrider's- though not so near that she'll brain him with those thick, heavy braids- and she murmurs, "I think Mama is worried that if I am not allowed more freedoms, I might do something rash."

Obstinate as Jhael is, he cannot quite pass up the opportunity for an audience. The scarves flutter above him, three or four in flight at once. Both hands are well engaged in the activity, flicking outwards to snatch the sheer bits of cloth before they can flutter away. Though it is the man who has first engaged the lad, Jhael's eyes are all for the woman standing beside him. Shifting on his feet lightly Jhael puts himself so the slight wind is blowing from behind him, towards the woman, giving him an excuse to be looking right at her, while having the excuse of keeping his eyes on the seeking to escape scarves.

"Surely I will be a more adventurous escourt than an auntie." We'bey beams at Maryam. "And I'd like nothing more than to take in the gather with you. And I promise to not keep an entirely good eye on you." Even flourished with a wink the male's free hands wrap around the slightly more feminine one resting on the crook of his arm. Perhaps it is the way Jhael is looking at the girl, as young as he is. We'bey? Being protective? Surely it isn't in his nature. Still the hand is squeezed even as he laughs, "Well you know, love, I've seen some who would certainly like it if you did." There is a pause as he points to one of the fluttering scarves, "Do you think could do that? You could always run away and join a caravan." His own jesting smile set alight, "Of course, I would rather miss you."

Maryam, possessed of who knows how many younger siblings, isn't uncomfortable with Jhael's regard. He falls into that nebulous age range that strikes the young woman as harmless, and raises no warning alarms…from herself, at least. Her escort(s)? They're left to decide for themselves, We'bey among them. But when her eyes chance to meet Jhael's, she tenders a small smile for the boy- seen more around the eyes, though the translucent veil allows a hint of a lip-curve to be sighted- and inclines her head for him in a show of respect for the manual dexterity on display. She's content to stand and observe, but also content to continue the quiet conversation with the greenrider. Conversation which has her holding her breath to forestall even the softest laughter. "Perhaps not a caravan," she admits, "but I have been considering perhaps a business of my own. Something small. To run when I am not tending to keeping others' books." What was that, about no work at a Gather?

Upwards and downwards continues the flutter of Jhael's scarves. Watching closely as he does he sees the man's stances move to protective, and an all-too-real smirk crosses his face before he can wipe it away and replace it with the showmans face that Analetta had been attempting to teach him to hold. He makes no verbal effort to engage the pair, though his eyes do skim the whole of the woman and he winks broadly- just being friendly you know.

Alas, for the boy throwing scarves, We'bey is all to confident in his escortee’s ability to fend for herself, even if there are some older brother (sister?) type tendencies in the way he pats at her hand. The idea of her own business draws a soft sound of approval from the lad brings his free hand into a ball on his hip and offers a soft chuckle. "Now that, m'dear, sounds like a brilliant plan. Any thoughts on what you would go into?"

The smirk- oh yes, she saw that- gives Maryam pause. She tilts her head, carefully due to the weight of the braids, then looks from Jhael to We'bey with her eyebrows raised in a silent question. It's just as she's looking back at the younger man that she catches sight of the wink. Well now. There is a reason her reputation so frequently uses the word "ice"; facets of that material seem to shutter her eyes, leaving the cool blue colder still. No smile for you, Jhael. But with We'bey seeming inclined to remain standing there while conversing, so too does she. "I thought perhaps a tea shop. Very small, of course, I doubt the demand would be great. But…a place of my own. If Eliseu allowed it. It might be nice, yes?"

Jhael doesn't seem at all off put by the sudden ice in the woman's eyes. Instead he simply adds a small bow to his show, grinning cheekily upwards as he does so. Very deliberatly he allows one of the sheer pink scarves to float free of his grasp. The wind, set as it is bowing at his back, picks up the scarf to carry it towards the pair.

"A tea shop, that sounds quite nice. Grits training put to good use." The pink scarf dancing in the wind, no doubt, draws the appraising eye of the once-clothier merchant. "Elisue's approval." It is as much the name as the idea of asking that draws a long roll of We'bey's eyes. "Maryam, love, you are a smart and capable young woman. You no more need his approval than, my own. Which you don't need at all." And with that he drops her arm from the nook of his own, his long arms crossing in a dramatic movement, as he clutches either side of his waist. "I will no longer be your escort. You. My lovely, lovely friend. May be your own." That's right. The greenrider is taking a stand. "Also," His head tilts and his voice catches just a bit, "That pink scarf is very pretty."

Abandoned! Who is this stranger who used to be her best friend! Maryam affects shock, perhaps betraying that she does possess a sense of humor. There's something a little (just a little!) over the top about the way she folds her hands over her heart, in surprise and horror. "Alone?" Do you hear how sad you've made her, We'bey? How uncertain? How…amused, that even in the midst of this moment, he simply cannot help himself and has to comment on the scarf? His cover blown, his admiration stated, she reaches out to try to catch the gauzy fabric before the wind snatches it away.

The scarf drifts the few feet towards the pair, the wind fanning it open. Slowly as it moves the woman catches it easily in her hand, and Jhael's grin deepens back into that smirk. "Your grace puts me to shame ma'am," he manages, and drifts forward a step closer to the pair, still completly ignoring the man in favor of the woman.

"No, of course not alone, love. I'm always here for you." One of We'bey's arms wraps round his waist, as the other elbow props itself up and his hand twirls over palm up in the air, in a you-know-that-love sort of way. "But I won't stand by and be a part of the tomfoolery." Still her little act, draws an easy smile as the man's head tilts once again at the child who eases his way over to them. Her grace, HER GRACE? What is he, chop liver? There is no accounting for the taste of a child. Bleh. He'd stick his tongue out if it wasn't quite to improper. As it is, he takes a second to study the entertainer. "Wait, I know you." Fingers press to his mouth as he studies, "Yes, suga'. I do. You clean up, pretty, but you're that little scamp from the roof."

The scarf is smoothed out between her hands, stretched and studied before Maryam offers it, with all of the generosity of a lifelong friend, to We'bey. She's already wearing pink, after all. "Call it a token," she murmurs in an aside to the greenrider before looking to Jhael again. Again with the smirking! But she makes an effort to shape a small smile, and bends her knees slightly in a polite curtsey. "You are very kind, young sir, and very talented. Thank you." She pauses for a beat to process what We'bey has just said before adding, with mild confusion, "The roof?"

It is with reluctance that Jhael finally pulls his eyes off of the woman in question. Even then it lasts for only a flicker. "You must have me mistaken sir, I'm only just here to entertain the beauties of this place, such as your beautiful companion with my small skills." He watches her hands as his scarf is handed over, then from a pocket pulls a bright green to replace it. Those things must flitter away quite a bit.

Long fingers wrap agilely around the scarf as We'bey takes it gleefully, "A token, indeed, I shall wear it like rider's wear the color of their beloved in fall. If only because I haven't the desire for a beloved, and you are my truest friend." The woman is offered the slow flutter of his eye-lashes, before his gaze drifts back to the boy, his lips drawing into a semi-amused smirk. "You'll find, suga'. There are certain people who grew up in the bazaar who have a knack for remembering everyone they run into. Call it a skill of trade." Even as his eyes never leave the younger boy, he answers Maryam's questions. "Well you know how I feel about children." He scoffs quite dramatically under his breath, his fingers pressing to his chest, as if he were faint. "In any event, I was on the sidestreet, love. And this one jumped off the roof. I suppose I was supposed to be impressed." He leans forward just slightly in the boys direction, "Sorry if I disappointed." And then he's finally turned his gaze back to the normally veiled daughter of Steen. "In any event, he was a good deal dirty then, and he clothes a bit more tattered. Though, he clearly didn't get them from The Night Flight, this time around either. Not that one would expect he would." Distaste. It's written on his face.

Maryam's lips curve faintly when the replacement scarf appears but she makes no comment on it. It is, in its own way, rather expected given the child's apparent occupation and the tale that We'bey is now sharing. "We pride ourselves on our memories. And our taste." Yes, yes, she's amused. Doing a fantastic job of hiding it, but it escapes in little ways. Like that remark. The greenrider might have stepped away earlier but she steps in close to him again, fully intending on once more taking his elbow. No matter that he called off the escort business, he just agreed to wear her token! There are rules! "You should be flattered, if people are seeking to impress you, dearheart. What is your name, boy?"

Jhael shakes his head mournfully. "I am quite afraid I do not at all know what you mean. Perhaps you have me confused with another of the Zingari? My mother oft remarked at the unfortunate resemblance with my cousin Jhael." Jhael lies smoothly, his head shaking as if to emphasize how horrible it was to be to campsites to this other make believe boy. Backwards he steps again, and bows once more before beginning to toss his scarves in the air. Their colorful fluttering hides his face just briefly, "I am Timo, caravan Zingari."

The arm is taken quite easily, only this time not as her male escort, but as a friend. "Maryam, love. Do you really think he'd give his real name? He probably made that up on the spot. Faranth knows if he even has a mother. Remind me mark him next time we see him. With a hot brand or something. So he can't lie again." Still, who can be upset when hold something so beautiful, and as he eyes land on the scarf again he's sedated. "Maryam, m'dear. I must go back round to that cloth merchant. He was trying to pedal some sub-par stuff on me, but I can't go home empty handed to The Flight, Gritta would have my skin. Would you accompany me there?" Even as he's asking the question he's steering her back to where they came from. "Perhaps, we can use your beauty to get me a discount." One should use all their assets. Yes?

We'bey's statement is a clear dismissal that even Jhael gets. With their backs turned Jhael drops the player face just for a moment to scowl at the rider for ruining the moment. It is a brief slip before Jhael tosses his scarves and wanders away.

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