Reilan, Veresch


A chance meeting in one of the Bazaar's lost alleys makes for the beginning of an adventure.


It is the thirty-fourth day of Winter and 50 degrees. It is a bright, sunny day.


Igen Bazaar

OOC Date


reilan_default.jpg veresch11_icon.jpg

Painted Alleyway

The Bazaar is a web of alleys and dead-ends; the unwary or unfamiliar could quickly become lost. This alleyway is a prime example- it can only be reached through a series of seemingly random left- and right-hand turns through increasingly narrow passageways, and ends abruptly with an adobe wall twice as tall as a man. The difference between this place and many of the others in the Bazaar is that some effort has been made by the local residents to spruce it up as a safe place for children to play. As a result, the walls are painted in bright primary colors and the children themselves encouraged to contribute, decorating the lower portions of the walls with painted handprints, stick figures and blobby dragons. White and yellow striped linen flaps overhead, awnings strung with wood and rope to create some protection from the sun. The atmosphere is bright, cheerful and extremely isolated, the din of the Bazaar a distant dream here.

It's not always easy finding one's way in a souk of bizarre and almost Byzantine proportions: one stall follows on another, with little lost spaces inbetween that open to the air but nowhere else. Strangely, they often end up one of the safer spots in the messy place, far from the noxious effluvia and human wastrels that cloak some places in a curtain of shit either physical or metaphorical. That's why, with the advent of one of the slow evenings and the lack of kids, a bazaar outsider has chosen to sit here. Someone took her in hand: her dress is a blue almost as dark as the sunset is turning, and whilst the hair scarf is currently loose and displaying wild locks of hair, she's still gotten the veil on that provides a shimmer of indigo shadow across her face. There's even a trace of kohl to be seen. For the moment, all that effort is directed at the opposite wall, where childrens' handprints glimmer dully in the fading light. Above her, the red-and-yellow canvas awning hands quietly, too limply tired to move.

Reilan is bazaar-folk. The winding paths and alleys and secret routes between stalls are well known to him, and well traveled. The quieter, less populated paths are a particular favorite, keeping him free of the crush of bodies that can clog the stalls and shops. He slips in between two closely situated walls, the alley just big enough for one at a time to make the journey. There's a slight blink for finding Veresch there. Or maybe just the version dressed the way she is. He walks a little closer though, giving her a bit of space as he wanders about, more to the side, and leans into her field of view along the wall. "What are you doing back here?"

"I'm trying not to concentrate on whatever the hell this underwear is riding up my ass." Such a delicate flower, but a tired, snarky one too. Her glance finds him, eyes bright with the dark kohl, but she looks away again. Like the sun, Reilan isn't safe to stare at for long. Too much blinding pretty. "They do this artwork here, on the skin," she shares faintly. "I'm not sure what they call it. I finally managed to barter enough to have it done, but it took longer than I thought. I wanted… I wanted to rest for a moment before running the gauntlet back to the Weyr proper. I…" Pause. Another look. "Is Asshat around? He usually is, around you. I'd like to skip that for the moment."

And if that comment on riding underwear has Reilan's head tilting, and his eyes slowly skating downward along Veresch's back side..well he can't be blamed. It's an interesting thought! "That's…a bit of a strange thing to do where children play." Look at all the tiny hand prints! Still, the teen does tug the cloth away from his own face, smiling ever so slightly. "I haven't seen Thierry today, no.." And there may even be a hint of worry about /that/, but he shrugs it off, shifting over to lean against the brightly colored wall. "A lucky thing, really.. He's not..the best behaved around pretty ladies in pretty garb." There's a laugh for the thought, somewhat distant as he tilts his head up. Some sky is visible between the close quarters of the buildings, lingering there until his eyes slowly draw downward again. "Is it worth the discomfort?"

As was perhaps the intent with these clothes, there's little to see of whatever underwear she might be wearing; the entirety of Veresh (more or less) is wrapped in clothes the bazaar wouldn't have problems with. "Thierry…" She smiles at him, but her tone is sarcastic, "is not the best-behaved even when one looks like a dirty boy, as I've cause to know." She nibbles her lip, then stands to do a twirl, skirts flicking out in a thick rustle that makes her look, for a short while, graceful and delicate as opposed to scrawny and all elbows. "Well." She leans over to hike the skirts up, revealing a hidden pair of thin pants. There's a glitter of metal there too, small, but likely a knife of some sort in one of the pretty boots. "I'll have to hike the skirts up to run, but it's odd. I feel almost like a girl. I've had so much ugly here that I wanted something beautiful too, see?" Pause. "What are you doing here? Hiding away from your masses of admirers?" Because seriously, probably all the girls around have a crush on him.

"Admirers?" Curious, questioning…and outright dismissive comes the nose from Reilan, and a laugh barks out of him, head shaking. "It's easier..not to have to deal with a few people I'm familiar with, is all. Besides, this route is quicker than taking the main roads at times." Not that the teen seems in a hurry at all. He's still lounging there against the wall, gaze flicking down at the hiked skirts to the pants beneath. "I admit, I prefer to see a lady in skirts rather than trousers.." Her comment even gets a grin, fingers brushing together in a loud 'snap' in the quiet of the air. "See? Of course it feels like..girl things." Girls wear dresses! "You don't really need to get all painted up to find something beautiful though, do you? Is it that bad here?"

The skirts drop, hiding the pants — if that was an embarrassed look on her face it's gone pretty quickly. "You wouldn't understand, right? You're pretty, and you're a guy." She thinks. Has anyone ever found out successfully? "I think it'll be better now, though. Cha'el told me to suck it up and start dressing like this to avoid trouble. He's…" Oh, now that embarrassment is back, though the blush is luckily hidden behind the veil. "I guess he was right." She looks around for a new topic, seizes one, rushes on: "How did your hair hold up the other day? I was afraid the braid would come out — sometimes clean hair is like that. But I guess you know how to take care of it as well. Um." Yes, she's babbling.

Reilan smiles somewhat, nodding. "It's not bad advice at all. It's better to just go with it sometimes than invite the ire of most of the men around here. Even some of the women." He pushes away from the wall then, a fluid motion righting him to take a few steps before peering at Veresch again. "My hair..? Oh! Yes, it was fine. ..Um..thank you for that, anyway." Despite the obscene waviness that his hair settled in once loosed from the braid! Wavy princess hair… "Were you worried about trying to make it back through the bazaar?"

"No." The answer is scornful, and the look she gives him equally so. Seconds later it falters a bit. "Perhaps. There are some nasty guys around. I have to go by the Wher on my way out, and it's not the best crowd in the bazaar." The Wher: part gambling establishment, part bar, and one of the nastier places around, with the most obnoxious crowd to go along with it, especially once they've soaked up a little alcohol. "Like this I look somewhat like a woman; I don't think any of them would be stupid enough to attack someone in pants, just in case it's a rider, but I can't imagine the women around there treated all that well. I can handle Thierry. Sometimes. I mean, he bruises good, but he doesn't strike me as the physical type, y'know? At least not the kind I appeal to, and he strikes me as a verbal abuser, not a physical one. I wouldn't be sure with them."

Reilan shakes his head slowly. "No, he wouldn't. Not really.." Even if he /has/ threatened it. The boy just sighs though, folding his arms just a tad around his middle as he ponders the matter. Feet set to motion, pacing down the length of colored wall while watching his steps. "The drunk aren't always in the /best/ control of themselves. I could walk with you, if you want. I need to head that way /anyway/.."

Veresch stands and dusts her skirts off conscientiously, then hands him the headscarf. "Would you?" she asks, turning her back. "I…um. The other reason I'm here is that I'm a little lost, so I'd appreciate it in any case. Why are you going over to that section?" Pause. "Are you a gambler? I'm pretty sure they use loaded dice over there, so I wouldn't make that mistake." Her nose wrinkles. "And they probably have dead little animals in their beer as well."

"Gambling? Goodness no. Not with dice, anyway." Reilan doesn't even question it! He simply sidles right up behind Veresch to pluck the headscarf from her. "I bet on the fights sometimes, but it's all in good fun. The way I see it, trying to drink a lot and play games on tables with people who already have blurry vision and bad judgement is asking for more trouble than I need. Did you want to leave your hair out?" Hopping along from one topic to the next, he is, even as he starts curling that scarf around somewhat.

Veresch sits perfectly still. "In, please." There are no twitches through the rest of the tuck-tuck-tuck, and she looks pretty demure when finished. Only goes to show, right? "The guy I'm looking for is Bitran-born, kind of fat around the middle, and from what I could find out, he stays near there. I just need to make certain of that before I tell… a friend where he is. I could… be a distant cousin? Of yours, I mean, not his, if you need a reason for us to be walking around together." There's a pause as she leaves the tiny, hidden space. Swish-swish-swish. "I hate skirts," come floating back. "Give me pants any day."

"You're wearing pants." It's a soft, amused reminder while Reilan tucks his own veil back across his face again, following along after Veresch. "You /are/ allowed to walk with me without being related. It's not so weird." But a cousin she shall be, chalking it up to distant relations or whatnot. "A fat Bitran? Can't say I know one of those.."

Add a New Comment