Who

Ixanedre, Ryott, Zisiene

What

Ryott is offering a game of chance… and Ixanedre kind of, sort of, doesn't bite.

When

It is sunset of the fourth day of the fourth month of the fourteenth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Central Bazaar, Igen Weyr

OOC Date 18 Jun 2018 04:00

 

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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.


Sunset and the Bazaar is still bustling, people finishing off their days and heading in the direction of home or a drink. Parked in a small recess between two stalls, right along the main drag with the most foot traffic, Ryott is perched on a low stool, a makeshift table in front of her made by an old plank of wood balanced atop two stout logs. On the table, three cards faced down and her rapid fingers are shuffling them around each other as she calls out to the passerbys. "C'mon then, fancy a bit of chance. All you gotta do is find the Lady." She flips up the card on the right side and shows the warn face card, the Lady Holder smiling out from the tattered edges. "Nothing could be simpler, double your marks!" Her sharp, dark eyes scan the crowd for likely marks players.

Sunset also heralds closing time! One such shop is doing just that, as Ixanedre has been left to wrap things up and he’s got plans for the rest of the evening. Plans that see him away from work a few minutes earlier than some of the more driven merchants. For the last while, he’s been methodically placing pottery and ceramics back securely inside; for all his behaviour in pretending he hates working where he works, he handles the actual wares with an uncanny gentleness. At last, everything is closed and locked as it should be and, with a dusting of his hands, he turns to stride away and into the sunset… only Ryott’s call eventually draws him aside. “Y’know,” he states blandly, “You’re in the wrong end of the Bazaar for that. Folk up this way are too clever to fall for it.” Yet he’s eying the cards as if tempted. Hmm.

"Am I?" Ryott asks, looking up at Ixanedre, eyes blinking innocently as she looks up at the man. Her clothes are ratty, patched in places and fraying in others, but they look clean at least. Fingers dance over the cards again as she tilts her head to one side, "I run an honest game though, not like those other ones," or so she says at least. Watching him eye the cards, she lets a bit of a smile play at her lips, "C'mon, it's been slow enough, I'll let you have one free play." shuffling the cards once more, her light touch moves them around soundlessly on the plank of wood until she settles them in a neat row, a flourish of her hand over them, "So where's the Lady?"

Ixanedre’s gaze flicks over Ryott in dismissive scrutiny. He takes in the clothes and tattered look and barely cares to look further than that. If she’s actually playing up a disguise, it’ll work on him! “Uh huh.” Scoffed in disbelief to her claim of being honest in her ‘game’, but it doesn’t stop him from shifting to face her properly. He won’t sit, choosing to loom above her. “Fine. I’ll hold you to your… ‘honesty’,” Sarcasm hangs heavy in that last word. No air quotations needed! “I’m bored anyways.” Watching closely as she shuffles the cards, hardly a second goes by that he’s not gesturing to the centre card with a decisive point. “There.”

Not quite a disguise, Ryott's face and closely cropped hair are easily identifiable, but her clothes are definitely not the ones she wears for herself normally. And all Ixanedre's scoff and bored look does is make the smile deepen on her lips, if he's looking for a little excitement, she can certainly provide it for him. Not minding a little bit of looming, the girl easily flicks over the center card, revealing the Lady Holder. "And you've found the Lady! Well done! Imagine the marks you could have made…" she drawls as she flips it back over and looks up at him speculatively.

“Not gonna work on me, kid. Sorry to disappoint,” Ixanedre’s smirk is a haughty one as he peers down at Ryott. He’s already beginning to straighten again, glancing back towards the Bazaar for a spell. “If I’m gonna gamble, I’ll play a different game of cards. And somewhere young girls,” His gaze turns to her and narrows. “Aren’t dealing.”

"What do you have against girls dealing?" Ryott asks, more curious than offended really as she watches him straighten again. "If you think about it truly, my age means I probably haven't gained the skills to fleece a man with your perceptiveness. So you are going to go play with some career gamblers instead?" she sucks at her teeth sharply, "That's a risk I know I wouldn't take." she comments with a slow shake of her head. Her dark eyes remained fixed on the potter, one brow slowly hiking up her forehead quizzically.

Ixanedre’s shoulders lift in an idle shrug, while his expression looks bored again. “My marks, my choice on how to burn ‘em.” He won’t answer her previous question as to what he has against girls. “And career gamblers aren’t always good gamblers but that’s half the risk and challenge.” And the lure, for a hot-headed, impulsive guy like himself. Slowly, he smirks and that haughty edge returns to his downwards gaze. “Guess you can say I’m still not convinced you’re anymore honest than the lot of ‘em.”

"Oh I get it, a kid like me isn't a challenge for someone like you," Ryott remarks as she shrugs her shoulders ambivalently. Pushing up her sleeves past her elbows, she clearly shows that there isn't anything up there. "I'm as honest as they come," who exactly they are isn't specified, before she sighs in mild defeat. "But you're completely right, your marks, your choice." And then she's craning her head around the potter to call, "Find the Lady! Try your luck! Now offering three times your bet returned for a correct guess," she calls out with special emphasis on the prize.

Laughter follows Ryott’s remark and Ixanedre just shakes his head. “It’s that you’re a kid that’s the problem.” he tosses back at her. He’ll blink and look out towards the Bazaar again when she returns to plying her offers. Hardly any of those in the passing crowds even spare a glance their way; if they do, it’s glancing at best. No one is biting! “Kind of sounding desperate.” Now he sounds like he’s taking a jab at her and, unless she stops him, he’ll stoop in an attempt to swipe one of those cards. Whether it’s the Lady or not, it’ll be flipped through his fingers as he stands at his full height.

The sound of laughter reaches the ears of a rather short woman. This woman melts into the crowd of the bazaar to move closer without being noticed. Old habits tend to die hard, and fading into obscurity is one of those habits. Zisiene moves closer with each careful step until she can see Ryott and Ixanedre. The tablaue is something that she'll just watch in silence. Such games of luck are fairly common after all.

"That just because people are unimaginative," Ryott quips at the problem being that she is still a kid. Watching the people pass her by causes the girl's mood to sour slightly, the barest narrowing of her eyes back up at the guy with all the opinions. She won't stop him from swiping up a card, and it just so happens it is the Lady he picked, "Again, you could have walked away with more marks in your pockets. But if losing is your thing, stick to that then by all means." There's just a hint of a smirk in her voice as she holds out her hand for the card, "You mind?"

“You’re the one that gave me the free play! I still have all my marks. Even if you could triple the prize as you said, I’m still counting it as a win.” Ixanedre’s just being a jerk now and moves right along to ‘ass’ when he just lifts his hand up higher. The card is pinned between his index and middle finger and, subsequently, wiggled. “Nope!” he quips, smirking. “You want it back? Come get it.” Focused as he is on teasing Ryott, he isn’t aware of Zisiene lurking there.

Long Turns of practicing the virtue of self discipline has taught Zisiene to keep her calm. Still watching the potter has the woman scowling even if he can't see her, or isn't paying attention. Still she'll watch Ryott's reaction to the man's actions, it could at least provide some amusement after all.

Something shifts in Ryott, her eyes hooded underneath dark brows as she narrows her regard on the card that he is holding up above her head. A quiet settles over the girl, almost eerily. as she doesn't rise to the bait. A glance is all she needs to guess the man's over a foot taller than her, and she's not about to play into the goad about coming to get it. She'll leave that to Trouble. The blue firelizard has been perched covertly nearby and once she sends him a picture of the card in the man's hand, she gives the silent command to fetch it. Silent as a shadow, Trouble swoops down suddenly and makes a surprised grab for the card.

It wasn’t something Ixanedre was expecting and Trouble will have no problem in claiming the card from his hand. He’ll curse out loud, quick to snatch his hand away before claws can mistakenly find his flesh instead. Without skipping a beat, he points right to Ryott with that very hand once he recovers. “Cheater.” he remarks with a narrowed look and slight scowl. Now that the fun has been ruined for HIM, he’s going to take his leave. Tongue clicks in mild disgust and disappointment. “Good luck with your peddling, kid.” One last shot and then he’s moving to stride back out into the main throng — or what’s left of it. Night is falling and he wasn’t kidding earlier; Ixanedre has places to be and marks to toss away — just not into Ryott’s pockets, this time.

A chuckle accompanies Zisiene's approach towards Ryott, "Clever," of course she's done similar with her own 'lizards. She watches the potter leave, and once certain he's out of ear shot, "He was a bit of an arse wasn' he?" she's seen his type her whole life, and been victim of those much worse, "What's y'er patter?" Isie's not trying to be rude, maybe she can offer some suggestions is all?

"Not cheating, just being smart is all," Ryott replies easily as Trouble lands on her shoulder, talons clutching the card held out to his humanpet, who takes it with a pat to his dark blue head and offers him a small treat pulled out of a pocket. Spying the fellow Zingari, she looks up at Zisiene as she starts to pack up her little setup, which is little more than a plank held up by two logs, "There's plenty of arses around here. Smart arses that is. Back in Bitra, people wouldn't think twice about taking up a kid on a game, they'd see it as an easy target." Rolling down her sleeves then, the girl carefully removes several cards she had secreted away there, adding them back to the battered Dragon Poker Deck. "This is just temporary," is all Ryott's going to say about her gaming, a subtle shadow crossing her dark features.

Zisiene gives a nod, and lets the topic of the cards drop, "At least you never had to deal with being stuck in cook pots bigger than yourself," she comments dryly, as there is little chance that Ryott would tolerate such 'pranks' after all she's watched the girl enough to know that such things wouldn't be easily born out by the other Zingari.

"Cook pots?" Ryott asks quizically as she gets up off her small stool, which turns out to be another piece of log. The deck of cards are placed in a pouch at her belt, and the various pieces of wood are disassembled and piled nearby, obviously they were merely convenient. "I'd much rather be picking pockets honestly than trying to cheat people out of their marks," the girls confesses for Zisiene's ears alone as she calls her other blue, Strife, down from his perch, as she cocks her head in the direction of the Caravan Grounds, "What do you think is for supper tonight?" she asks conversationally.

Zisiene gives a nod at the question, "My foster mother was a baker," she says, "I apprenticed with them for a short time, not for me," but she did pick up a skill she honed through necessity. The question of supper is given thought before she answers, "Not sure. Smelled like some kind of stew though," she's not willingly put herself near cooking hearths, or fires in some time.

"Never had you pegged as a baker," Ryott deadpans, all her animated mannerisms while running her game gone in an instant as she takes up the much more familiar mask of teenage disinterest, hands stuffed into her pockets, brows pulled deeply down over her almost black eyes. "Stew sounds good, hope they have some fresh rolls too," she expands as they meander their way to camp and towards the cooking fire for sustenance and some time to relax before bedtime calls.

Zisiene chuckles as she nods, "Aye, well there's something I don't talk 'bout often," said as she follows along. Food, and sleep sound just about like the grandest thing in the world right now.

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