Who

Jaune, Ziniel, Ryott(incognito)

What

When will Jaune learn that the Bazaar isn't trying to rob him of his virtue?

When

It is evening of the nineteenth day of the tenth month of the fourteenth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Central Bazaar, Igen Weyr

OOC Date 22 Aug 2018 04:00

 

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"You, uh. Dance nicely."


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Central Bazaar

All roads in the weyr ultimately lead here, to this center of commerce. Canvas awnings jut out over time worn, sandy cobblestone, sheltering customers and wares alike from the majority of Igen's elements, and funnel scents both mouthwatering and vomit inducing through the thin streets. Almost all store fronts are open air, delineated by sandstone arches with intricately carved facades. The insides of these stone-shingled buildings act as an amplifier for the salesmens' bawled enticements, and are held up by the chipped swirls of marble pillars.

It is the seventy-ninth day of Autumn and 77 degrees. It is hot. Hot, hot, hot. Rukbat bakes the desert. Temperatures soar.


Its a cooler day in the bazaar and everyone seems to be enjoying the day far more than normal. Jaune himself pops back out of that tent where he had been guided to before, to purchase oil for firelizards. Apparently its all gone and he needed more, probably something to do with the recent addition to his shoulder ornamentation. A brilliantly gold firelizard that is content to let her tail hang from his shoulder like a tassle.

Up the way can be heard music, and cheering. As the crowd shifts, and moves an unusually tall girl can be seen dancing. Her movements are slow, sensual, and look like they'd be better if she were not on the ground. As the music comes to an end, Ziniel stops with a lock to her hip. She's just practicing, and one of the drummers from the caravan graciously gives her accompaniement.

The cooler days might be a relief to some, but to others, like that waif in the threadbare dress that once could have been called yellow, grubby hands cupped in front of her begging for marks, it means cold nights. Her lank, dirty, blonde hair falls over her face, her movements jerky and nervous, as if expecting to be kicked at any moment. Her muttered voice is kept low, asking for whatever can be spared. The music down the way gets her attention as she casts furtive glances Ziniel-wards to see if she attracts a crowd, that may entice her to move closer.

Oh no. Oh no no no. This is what he was told about, warned about. Isn't Jaune far enough from the caravans to not have to deal with people. People dancing by /themselves/. Whats the point? He needs to go that way anyways, so he bumps through the small crowd to see what the fuss is. Yes. Ziniel dancing…..Gulp. Jaune is looking frantically for an exit.

It's fortunate for Jaune that Ziniel's set is at an end. She ends her dance with a dramatic drop to her knees. The crowd cheers some more, and marks are tossed onto the small cloth laid out in front of her and the drummer, "Thanks Becil," Ziniel says as the crowd begins to thin, "See you later for dance class?" Becil gives a nod as he packs up, and gathers the marks, "I'll get these sorted, and give you your cut later?" A nod is given, and the drummer slips away. Ziniel's left to look around and a bright smile falls, quite by chance on Jaune.

The little beggar girl in the yellow dress picks herself up from her spot between a couple stalls and meanders through the crowd breaking up after the dancer's set, looking pathetic enough to garner a couple of small denomination marks, nothing bigger than a 1/16th. But each one she gets, she thanks the kind person profusely, showing off a set of badly tended yellow and brown teeth. Sidling up to Jaune, she puts her hands out in supplication, her gaze timidly on the ground as she hides behind a veil of greasy blonde locks, "Please sir, can ya spare anythin'?" she rasps softly.

Its abort time, to move on and not settle into conversation with villianious dancing devils intent on divesting him of his virtue. Jaune's eyes go wide as Ziniel looks to him and he scrambles a moment, as if juking left then turning right might shake the woman's gaze from him. It startles his firelizards, and the sudden turn to leave has him colliding with short and needful there. To allow most of her backside and shoulders to greet the dirty sand of the bazaar. Which pulls quick apologies from the young Vintner. "My apologies, I didn't see you there!" Hands go to grip her elbows, as to yank her upright again.

Well that was unexpected. Most people don't run like that, Ziniel steps towards Jaune the smile fading just a little, "Did you hurt yourself?" the question is directed at the beggar girl, then she turns to Jaune, "And you? Are you alright?" all the concern here.

Looking as if this kind of thing happens every day, the waif hold up her hands apologetically, "It's fine, I'm ok. I'm awf'ly clumsy." And as if to prove her point, as she reaches for Jaune's hand up, the too short sleeves of hr dress ride up to reveal various, suspiciouly hand shaped, bruises in various stages of healing. Once she's on her feet again, she brushes at her dress, mostly in vain, before running her fingers through her hair as if she could will the greasy tresses into some semblance of order.

"I'm fine, I'm fine." Jaune mutters out quickly towards that approach of Ziniel. Got to get everything settled and back to proper before he can take off. Jaune's hands dip past the waif's to grip the back of her elbows in an attempt to pull her up, up onto her feet once more. He'll glance off towards Ziniel now that shes here. "You, uh. Dance nicely." He is digging into his leather satchel now, for something.

Ziniel cants her head to one side, "Thank you? I'm better in the air though," she's really missing the use of her silks, but until she can replace the block she's grounded from arial work, "I'm Ziniel," she'll offer her hand, and a concerned look is given to the other girl, "If you're sure?"

Back on her feet, the beggar girl nods her head affirmatively, "I'm finy, really," she affirms again with a bob of her head for the compliment Jaune gives Ziniel, "Right pretty dancin' miss." Straightening her hole-riddled shawl over thin shoulders, she fidgets with the tight sleeves, pulling them down over bruised arms as much as she can manage.

"Uhh…Jaune. Is my name." Jaune finds what he is looking for and pulls it from deep in his satchel, a sphere. The loose cloth gets unravelled from it to reveal a gleaming redfruit at the height of its ripeness, which the vintner pushes towards the waif's hands. "Here. You can have this. I'm sorry."
In these public places are these people:

"Well met," Ziniel says as she pulls her hand back, "Did I do something to offend?" puzzlement here as she has never seen anyone bolt away from one of her performances, "Here," a sixteenth mark is extended towards the other girl, "It's not much, but it's all I have right now," Ziniel steps back, "I should probably get going soon. I have to find some wood to make a new block, and then I have classes that I can't miss," dance, costuming, and cosmetics oh joy.

Taking the offered redfruit with a wide grin, the waif clutches it to her chest as if more precious to her than the marks, "Oh thank ye kind sir, looks mighty good." Salivating already, she takes a tentative bite from the redfruit, juice dripping down her chin as a result, but she doesn't seem bothered in the slightest. At Ziniel's offered mark, she takes it with one sticky hand before bobbing her head in thanks while chewing another mouthful of the sweet fruit.

"Well met." Oh! His hand shoots out to grasp Ziniel's hand before it gets too far to shake vividly a few times. "Oh. There we go. Tasty isn't it? I've got a whole bushel of them mashing to make some cider." Jaune reaches out with the scarf about his neck, to wipe juice from the poor girl's face quickly. He'll straighten up and flash a grin towards Ziniel, cheered by the sight of an eating child. "Classes? What sort of classes do you teach?"

Ziniel blinks a couple of time, "Teach? No, I'm still learning. Dance, costuming, and stuff. Probably boring to someone like you," is Ziniel flirting? No, she's completely serious, "I really do need to go get that wood. If I can't get my block replaced, I can't rig my silks which means I'm stuck on the ground," which she makes sound absolutely horrible just by the tone in her voice, "I won't have time to start working on that before my next class, but I'll at least have the wood," she turns towards the caravan grounds where she disappears from sight rather quickly in spite of her six foot frame.

Jerking away from Jaune's touch with an almost instinctual mistrust, the beggar girl wipes at her own mouth carefully, eyeballing the vinter from behind her greasy fringe. With a cool breeze picking up, she shivers slightly and looks mournfully in the direction of the various rooftops around the main bazaar. "I best get going too, or all the good place to sleep will be taken. Thanks again mister," she adds, taking another juicy bite of the fruit before she insinuates herself through the throng and effectively disapears.

Jaune doesn't seek nor chase nor follow. A disquieted expression on his face as the girl trundles off to pick through the bazaar. Yet another reason this place puts him on edge. Not like it needs any other reason with pickpockets and vagrants and such. Errand done for the day, he points himself back to the apprentice dorms.

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