Who

Camigwen, Divale, Lemia, Zisiene

What

Divale and Lemia are barely into their evening patrols when they briefly cross paths with Camigwen before something goes amiss. Zisiene cleverly eavesdropped the whole time too.

When

It is evening of the twenty-fifth day of the eleventh month of the ninth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Central Bazaar

OOC Date 11 Jan 2017 05:00

 

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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.


Early evening finds Igen Weyr beginning to wind down for the day, well, most of it anyways. With the boisterous lot of traders on the caravan grounds and the night life in the bazaar, life is never dull for a Parhelion on night duty. Not to mention the hunt for the thief going on right now. It's been hop hop hopping, so Lemia is glad to have a night of regular guard duty. She arrives in the center of the bazaar immediately after supper and stops at a fruit stand while waiting for her partner for the evening to show up. She buys a small sack of dates and some cheese, thanking the vendor. She nibbles on both as moss-green eyes search for her partner and/or any suspicious activity.

“Brave of you to buy food from here, given what’s been happening to our ranks,” Divale’s voice, dry and flat as ever, will be easy enough to pick up, even as the brownrider comes to join Lemia at her side. It feels like it’s seemingly from no where, though the truth of it is that she may have already been lurking about and, upon spotting the greenrider, she moved in. The Guard assigned to her is hanging back, keeping a lookout from another point but ready to move when they do. Expression grim, she casts a look about the bazaar and exhales heavily, “Guess we’ll see what this night brings?”

Lemia looks up and spots Divale, smiling to her wingmate as she examines a date. "Haven't had any bad luck as of yet, and the food here is better than any I had at my last Weyr, except the roast avian, that was pretty delicious." Moss-green eyes sparkle happily as Lemia pops the date in her mouth with a wedge of cheese. She takes a drink from a skin she'd filled with tea. "Aye, let's see what it brings. Which direction should we go?" Lemia asks. Eeny meeny miney mo. Above, Horith is perched upon a ledge, eyes whirling as she watches the bazaar from her high perch, ready to warn Lemia if need be. The normally bouncy and bubbly green is a silent sentinel now, ever watching.

Divale smirks but there’s a hint of mirth hidden there and in her voice as she speaks, “Then let’s hope your luck holds, then. Personally, I’m not taking my chances. My luck here has already been worn thin.” By now it should be fairly known among fellow Parhelion’s what happened in her case though the bruising has largely faded by now and she no longer favours her leg noticeably. “Probably best to go this route first,” She points to one of the narrower alleys, where the shadows have already begun to grow long with the setting sun. The Guard catches her gesture and nods in silent agreement, but hangs back for now. Lukoith remains sentinel on his own ledge, poised and ready in dark, brooding silence.

Long shadows are a friend to the waifish shadow that follows behind the pair of Parhelion riders. Zisiene's been hearing things. Things that have her turning her knack for looking like just another street urchin into a means to listen to the streets. This includes ghosting along the shadows to keep an eye on the goings on of the bazaar.

Lemia puts the cheese in the small sack with the dates and ties it to her belt. "Forward ho I suppose then." Lemia takes the lead down the narrow side street, eyes peeled for anything suspicious, she doesn't think to look behind them really, after all, there are four other eyes on guard with her. She's clueless to their urchin spy and is quite delighted when they pass a stall of luxuriant fabrics. "Oh my… I may need to come shopping here." And probably severely empty her purse in the process.

Divale’s on heightened alert, ever cautious and wary, as they approach the side street and those waiting shadows. Lemia’s delight over the fabrics brings a bit of a strained look from the brownrider, “Best to keep the browsing to later?” she remarks with a quirked brow. To take the edge off, she’ll smirk wryly. “Patrols first, pleasure later, after all.” Waiting for the greenrider to lead forward again, she’ll follow a few paces behind, while the Guard takes up the rear. None have spotted Zisiene so far and it won’t be long before Divale speaks up again, “You heard about the stolen items being returned?”

Stolen items returned? Zisiene moves just a touch closer while keeping to the shadows. The girl will feel very safe with the knowledge that she's able to defend herself if needed, and the information that stolen things have been returned is filed away. What Isie is really listening for is information on the poisonings that she's heard rumors of.

Lemia nods to Divale and grins. "Of course, those silks are just to bright to not notice." Of course Lemia keeps going, she knows she's on duty. To Divale's next comment, Lemia sighs and nods, her gait becoming a bit more professional. "Aye, and not exactly in the order they were stolen in, if I heard correctly. Let's hope we don't get any of that action tonight though, or that if we do, we catch the bugger." Lemia takes on a serious cast. She at large, doesn't like chasing down human suspects, but she'll do it if required. She's loyal to her duty at least.

Poisoned wells, poisoned wells… or whatever non-sequiter Camigwen actually hears in her head; certainly, she's not really cottoned on to what the people are actually on about. Her head's stuffed full of random little factoids involving various breeds of dog and the scroll she's reading while walking. So intent is she on the tiny cramped words that she doesn't seem to notice the pair discussing the tragedy of the day — but at least she's aware enough that she doesn't trample them; instead, she manages to slow down and skit to one side to avoid running into anyone as they move along.

Divale is not the person to discuss fashion with, at least not when she’s on duty and poor Lemia will just earn a bit of a puzzled look from the brownrider. “I did mark the man who jumped me but the bastard was smart and must’ve gone to ground. The wounds would’ve healed by now…” So that opportunity is lost. Casting a look about the side street, she’ll chuckle dryly. “What, not up for a chase along the roofs? It’s quite thrilling.” Dangerous, potentially deadly… Key words she’ll just gloss over. Zisiene will get her wish after another stretch of silence. “Not feeling anything yet from your snack?” she asks Lemia, only to mutter. “Got to admit. If they are using poison, it’s damn gutsy of them. Someone knows their stuff.” And it sounds like she wants to meet them and compare notes. Her commentary ends though upon spotting movement and Camigwen is given a brisk nod and maybe just a bit of a suspicious look over. “Evening.”

Zisiene draws up short before she runs out of shadows. The rooftops are easy enough for her to access, but not here. Not where it's so open. Ah there's the bit she'd been looking for. The marked man she'd seen, a fading mark of a scratch clumsily hidden beneath cosmetics. Isie listens as Camigwen is greeted, perhaps more information will be dropped? There's something there. Something that she can't quite piece together. Poison? She'll have to speak to Igraine. She'd love to ask what the symptoms are, but right now the girl is really not wanting to be seen. She may have other leads to chase, and if she's seen talking with riders, and respectable looking types she may not be able to chase those leads.

Camigwen puts on the brakes upon hearing a voice addressing her. Can't they see she's trying to read, here? HUFF. "Hi." She acknowledges, lowering the scroll to squint at Divale before sweeping over Lemia. Is there someone in the shadows? Maybe, but Camigwen's not exactly the observant type, and is content to study the two out-in-plain-sight women, trading Divale stare for stare.

Lemia laughs. "I'm better in the air than I am on the ground I'm afraid, give me level ground to run on and I run like the wind, but the rooftops? Well… I may have to start myself a PT program to trin for it, because I'd for sure fall and break a leg or my neck." Lemia gives Divale a look of approval when she mentions having marked her attacker. "At least you gave the bastard something to think about while we search for him." Lemia shakes her head at mention of her snack. "Not a thing." Camigwen's passage is noted with a curious glint of moss-hued eyes. "Evening…" Talk of poison brings her attention around. "I've heard there's a few well versed in poisons in Igen. Perhaps you should pick their minds about it."

“It’s not as difficult as you might think,” Divale might be a little biased when it comes to scaling walls and rooftops, but she might give Lemia a brief look of amusement for the answer given by the greenrider. Then it’s back to business and she shakes her head, “Some good it’ll do. I’d have got him better if I’d my damn knife,” Alas, that was knocked from her hand. The Guard doesn’t so much as look at Camigwen, but he does start to slow and lag behind more and more. Maybe he’s catching on to Zisiene, but hasn’t quite pinpointed her yet. “Not safe to be wandering here,” Divale will inform Camigwen herself, with one last shrewd look over before leaving the girl to her reading. “Not so easy to just go ‘pick their minds’ about it. Most who dabble in poisons,” Like herself. “Don’t broadcast it. Though… There’s one I might talk to. Recent arrival here. Dabbles in herbs and teas? Might start with her.”

The undue notice from the guard has Zisiene sliding back into the shadows until she can find the crutch she's stashed in an alley. When she comes out into the open, it's with a heavy lean on that crutch. The look of one who is long accustomed to moving with the aid of a crutch. If the guard were to look where she'd been hiding, he'd find a young man with a sleave pinned to a wall by a small throwing knife. Arm held high enough above the youth's head to eventually start to cause pain. She'll settle herself on the ground to the side of a still open shop, one leg sprawled out in front of her at an odd angle. Everything about her screams poor cripple.

"Indeed." Lemia has to agree. Moss colored hues look over to Camigwen as Divale addresses her and then over to the cripple girl emerging into the bazaar's light. Poor thing. However, back to the task at hand. They seem to have stopped and Lemia looks around. "We should probably continue." Is aimed at Divale and then Lemia turns towards Camigwen. "It really isn't you should stick to the more open and public parts of the bazaar if you are going to be out here at night." A pointed look is sent to the cripple girl too. Please get somewhere safe.

Divale nods in agreement, “We should keep moving.” She would have begun to do so too, after lingering just long enough to give Zisiene’s act as a cripple girl a long, thoughtful (and maybe a bit pitying) look but something is making her uneasy. Two people just… happening to be here? Who really shouldn’t? She’s about to make a remark to Lemia when the Guard does find that young man pinned to the wall with a small throwing knife. There’s a sharp whistle given as a signal and a gesture, which has Divale immediately moving off to join him with a quick, but grim, spoken: “Found something!” to the greenrider.

Lemia follows DIvale over when the signal is given and gives an exasperated sigh. "One night, can't the bazaar be calm for one night?" There's one thing Lemia liked about Telgar Weyr, it was calm, predictable. This place ws just plain out crazy. Lemia gives a bit of a growl and an impatient tap of her foot. "You want to take him to the infirmary and I finish rounds with the guard here, or do you want me to take him?" Lemia asks of Divale, a finely plucked eyebrow rising.

The distraction of that would be thief pinned to the wall gives Zisiene the space she needs. Quickly, quietly, the girl is up on the rooftops taking with her that crutch. Not a single sound is made by the girl or her prop as she comes to a stop just above the spot the lad is found, "Lemme go," he pleads, "I swears I was gonna pay for the stuff," the arm has nary a knick when the knife is drawn from the cloth and wall. The small pile of inexpensive comes falling from a pant leg, and a few semi-precious stones from the other join the combs on the ground.

“I think that’d be wishing for Thread to cease to exist,” Divale mutters under her breath to Lemia as she narrows her eyes at the youth who, unfortunately, has so far been found with incriminating evidence. There’s a weary sigh for the pleading, but she’ll be the one to reach for the knife and carefully withdraw it, only to allow the Guard to step in and detain the boy before he gets it in his head to run. “He’ll get him secure and I’ll leave it to you to take him to the Infirmary?” She quirks a brow to Lemia to see if the greenrider agrees, then briefly examines the knife she’s holding, testing the weight. Hmm. “We’ve got this,” A hand flicks to the scattered items. “To clean up and report in. Patrols will have to fall over to another group.” And Divale seems determined to get started on it. ‘Quiet’ in the Bazaar? Pfft. Never! Though it wasn’t the scenario she was expecting.

The rider is watched for a few moments before Zisiene's slipping back along the rooftops to the more inhabited areas of the bazaar. From there she'll flip, tuck, and roll her way to the ground only to pelt back to the caravan grounds all unseen. She hopes.

Lemia nods. "Sure, I'll get him to the infirmary. Let's get to this then, we'll have miles of hidework to do afterwards." Lemia takes hold of the man and leads the way out of the bazaar, just another night's work. Surely both riders are exasperated by the hidework, but such is the life of a rider, thread, work and hidework. And so ends another day in Igen's colorful saga.

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