Who

Igraine, Zisiene

What

Isie goes in search of Igraine, and fails miserably to sneak up on Igraine.

When

It is evening of the tenth day of the second month of the tenth turn of the 12th pass. It is the fortieth day of Winter and 34 degrees. It is a clear night.

Where

Rooftops

OOC Date 06 Feb 2017 05:00

 



Rooftops

If you can find the handholds to haul your way up - and there are plenty, if you know where to look - then there is a hidden highway of tile and adobe that waits for knowing travellers to tread its path.A road best travelled by those sure of foot and able to stomach the occasional leap between buildings without falling victim to vertigo, the rooftops represent a quick and possibly convenient way of travelling about the bazaar; though don't be surprised if there's the odd shady opportunist willing to take a risk this high above what law lies below.

The view from up here is spectacular; rooftops, sun-bleached, weathered, beaten by time, spread like an uneven patchwork quilt from here to the very borders of the bazaar. Some flat, some tiled, some frequented and some abandoned - it's not unusual to find the odd potted garden, stored goods or even a precious chicken coop, locked down to protect the feathered denizens within its thread-protected casing.

The sounds of the bazaar are muffled, the scents blissfully so too, making it a potentially pleasant little getaway for those in need of a little peace and quiet to observe the skies, to travel the high walkways, or to simply soak in some of Rukbat's rays.


This winter night is clear, and quiet, the desert air cold and still. While Igen Weyr settles into silence and slumber, at night, the bazaar comes alive. In the distance, the sounds of a Zingari performance night ring through the air. People seeking liquor and food filter in and out of the Cantina, people line up to see the fights in the Pit, shady deals and dark propositions are made in dark alleyways, streetrats run the main fairways, lifting purses and playing chase. There might be honest dealings in the bazaar, but at night the thieves and bazaar rats rule. One other thing lurks in the bazaar at night, and that's Zingari spies, though most would go lifetimes without knowing it. One such spy perches upon the rooftops, watching the Zingari festivities in the distance, her mind on things beyond what she was posted here to watch for. Still, Igraine's eyes are sharp for anything that might be amiss.

Clear night, not always a blessing but for this young woman it doesn't bother her on this night. Zisiene pauses to look out over the bazaar, with a look towards the Zingari camp. She'd done her rounds of performance, and now she was on the prowl. The shadowed alcove she'd dropped a small vial in is soon found, and Isie's once more silently slipping through the shadows. She'd seen the target of her search heading this way, and she really doesn't expect to slip up very close to the older woman without being detected. Still it doesn't stop Isie from making the attempt to do just that, pausing to watch before making a cautious step closer until she's close enough to be heard if she were to step wrong.

Igraine is lost in thought as her eyes scan the horizon, but she is not so lost that her guard has dropped. Still facing the view outwards, she crosses her arms, a grin crossing her lips. "You're still too loud…" Igraine comments with amusement. She turns barely to spot Zisiene 'sneaking' up behind her. "I figured you'd be in the crowd this night."

Zisiene gives Igraine an impish grin as she shifts a small vial from left hand to right before she holds it out to the other, "Some of my hidey spots are not so quiet," as was the case with where she'd stashed the vial. Probably Isie was unaware of how close she was to Igraine when she pulled said item from where it'd been stashed, "I pinched this from someone that had been sneaking around rations for one of the wings," she doesn't know what it is, "Figured it'd be best to find out what this is, before trying to figure out what to do with that information?" She's thinking, and sometimes a thinking Zisiene is a dangerous Zisiene.

Igraine eyes the vial as it appears. Willa had mentioned something of the sort when Igraine had checked in this afternoon. She closes the distance between herself and Zisiene and takes the vial. Carefully Igraine unstoppers the stuff and takes a tentative sniff. The odor is very nearly undetectable, but floral poisons almost always have a scent if one knows what to smell for. Igraine wrinkles her nose and stoppers the bottle. "Best not get too much of this in anyone's food or drink. A little bit of this will make you wish you were dead while your stomach and bowels play obscene tricks on you, a lot of it will kill you…" Igraine purses her lips, nostrils flaring as she thinks. "Hemlock and nightshade… On second thought, I'd better hold onto this."

Zisiene gives a nod as she reliquishes the vial over to Igraine, "I thought I smelled something, but I wasn't sure what?" Isie's brows wrinkle as she thinks, "why would anyone want to mess with the Weyr's wings?" there's a note of irritation that can be heard. Isie has a deeper respect for riders than most would expect of her.

Igraine shrugs. "Hard to tell really." Igraine pockets the vial and sighs. "Could be a prank, could be someone had it out for a particular member or the whole wing, could be anything…" Igraine clears her throat. "Without more information on the who and what of it all, no one could really tell you."

Zisiene gives a nod as she stares out towards where the Zingari's night of entertainment is beginning to wind down, "I should go," she says, "Classes in the morning," and she is trying to make it to at least the morning classes on time, "Thank you," for what? Probably taking the vial off her hands. Isie turns, and starts back the way she'd come. Feet placed carefully so as to make little sound. A mental note to find better shoes being made as she slips away from one shadow to the next.

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