Who

Diem, Zannen

What

A visitor from Southern ends up being Diem's chaperone for a bit when she can't stay incognito in the Bazaar.

When

It is midmorning of the tenth day of the eighth month of the fourteenth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Central Bazaar, Igen Weyr

OOC Date 31 Jul 2018 06:00

 

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"Will both of you hush? I don't need everyone in the Bazaar to know I'm here."


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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.


There was a time when Igen's visiting goldrider from Fort couldn't stay away from the Bazaar or stay out of trouble as a result. Since becoming Senior, Diem has tempered her urge to venture out alone by keeping herself busy with work and tending to improvements around the Weyr. But, today… Today is different. Having dressed in native Igen garb and slipped away from the inner caverns (and Cremla), she's out and about with Zsaviranth as her only chaperone. The gold is resting in the bowl and keeping tabs on her lifemate as she wanders deeper into the main vein of Igen's central point of commerce. With a light shawl draped over her head to help protect her from Rukbat's rays, Diem is meandering through the street and leisurely browsing booths.

Even a man who spends most of his life in the water needs to warm up and dry out every now and then. Zannen isn't a complete stranger to Igen, wending his way through the Bazaar crowds with ease enough. Part of that ease comes from his size, of course. It's easy enough to part the sea when one is a broad-shouldered six foot one, so to speak. He certainly doesn't look like an Igenite, though, wandering about in long blue board shorts, sandals, and a sleeveless, fitted white tunic, no headgear or robe in sight to protect him his blond head and bared arms and legs from the merciless summer sun. Anyone passing near him will get a whiff of sun salve, however. He's not clueless, after all. Further proving the existence of his brain is the fact that, when the dramatic advertisements of a merchant at one of the open-air stalls he passes claim to prevent sun sickness with a mix of unlikely ingredients, he stops, folds his arms, and arches a sandy brow as he lifts his voice to the man. "Ain't never heard o' such a mix doin' that. An' my mom was a Healer, so don't go tryin' t' convince me." The ensuing defenses from the merchant only prompt the gradual mix of amusement into the blue-eyed man's expression.

Diem continues her leisurely stroll through the Bazaar and stops to admire some sparkly hairclips on display at one of her favorite vendors. The owner is an older gent with salt-n-pepper hair and two days' worth of salt-n-pepper stubble on his chin. Fortunately, he's busy with another customer so the incognito goldrider can admire the new hairclips in peace — and she's wise to not stay long. After admiring a particular purple gemstoned clip, Diem pivots and is soon on her way when she catches sight of non-native board shorts and an equally non-native accent from the man wearing them. She's curious, so she slows her pace even further to catch the conversation. "I'm a Healer." Or was. "And no amount of salve is going to fully protect your hide from the desert heat and rays. Sorry to break the bad news." One might be able to detect a hint of a Fortian accent etched upon her words, and one can definitely see the wry smile that curves her lips.

Zannen's attention is immediately wrested from the charlatan vendor when he's unexpectedly addressed, a few blinks focusing him on the headscarf-draped woman to his left. "Oh?" His head tilts slightly as he tries to discern a knot, but without one in evidence, he'll just have to take her at her word. He no reason not to for the moment, after all. "Would ye say a Seacrafter's salve ain't up to th' task, m'lady Healer?" he asks, a skewed smile curving down at her. "Surely a far sight better 'n what this thief's tryin' t' sell." Side-stepping the topic of his own skin, and the indignant sputtering of the merchant, he unfolds his arms, settling his hands upon his hips instead as he studies her further.

"The heat, with or without salve, is dangerous enough. However," Diem straightens and clears her throat a bit, assuming that the non-native standing near her has on some of that Seacrafter salve. "Some protection is better than none. As to what this gent is selling, I'm sure it has its own benefits. You see, we might not have sea-salty air to protect our skin from, but we do have plenty of sand and dust that'll dry a hide out beyond repair." So she'll just be handing over a couple marks to get some of the vendor's bottled lotion and moisturizer instead — and to maaaybe smooth his ruffled feathers just a tad. The vendor hands over the canister to Diem, but not without eyeing this newcomer in the process. After accepting her purchase, the goldrider slips the item into the pocket of her sari and starts to walk again, "I assure you he's not a thief." That's said to Zannen, though he better keep up if he wants to continue this conversation.

Zannen won't argue about the heat, though there's a wryness that lingers, dancing, in his sea-blue gaze as he lifts a hand to idly scratch the day-old stubble that roughens his chin. He does lift an eyebrow again when the woman actually buys some of the merchant's wares. Then she's on the move, and he has to hurry a few steps to catch up, knowing perfectly well he can just let her move on without him but deciding he'd rather not. "A con, then," he corrects. "Mayhap it'll help skin, but he shouldn' be toutin' is as somethin' t' keep sun sickness away. 'River clay with purified tallow an' klah essence' is just a fancy way of sayin' he's got mud from Igen River Hold mixed up with bluegill fat an' a little klah bark crushed in t' cover up the stink." He seems quite certain of his assertions, though he could just be teasing as well. "I used t' see some o' th' fishermen's kids brew up stuff like that for fun when I worked at the River Hold some Turns back."

Diem will let the man wax on about the making of a proper sun salve and then cants a look up at him, "I know a brownrider who is convinced that the mud from Igen River Hold is the secret to looking young." She doesn't exactly go into detail about the sun salve again, but rather shifts the topic a little. "Have I ever tried it? No. But, they swear by it." She pivots a little to let some folks by and then continues onward, "You seem to know a fair amount about salves. Yet, I'm not sensing that you're an apothecary."

"Hey, if it makes 'em happy…" Zannen shrugs as he goes along beside the woman, still trying to figure her out and nearly missing his own cue to make a little room. People end up breaking around him like a stream around a boulder, regardless. "Not by a long stretch," he says of being an apothecary, a quick, bright grin lighting up his face. "I am a Seacrafter, though. I've learned how t' protect against sun, sand, 'n sea over the Turns, but that's th' extent of what I know. I'm Zannen, by the way." They're moving, so he can't really give a bow, instead offering the woman his hand. "Journeyman Dolphineer, from down Southern way."

"Good to meet you, Zannen." Diem says, taking his hand within her own. There is a lack of a knot on her shoulder, though if the Southerner were to guess, she's not one to work with her hands given how soft they are. She could very well pass for a Healer. When her hand leaves his, she adjusts her head scarf as they continue to walk. "What brings a Dolphineer to the desert?" Then a moment later, "I've a trip planned to Southern in a few sevens. Business." She doesn't elaborate, nor does she give her name. Yet.

Zannen gives as much of a little bow over her hand as he can, smirking subtly when she doesn't offer up her name. It's a game he's had to play a time or two before, and he wonders what he'll have to do this time to learn whom he's speaking to, if it turns out to be something more complicated than just asking. "Oh, aye?" he counters her last. "Are ye a merchant yerself? Or a Crafter? On your day off, mayhap?" He gestures to her unadorned shoulder with a wink before circling back to what she's asked of him. "I'm here t' see my sister. She's a greenrider here," he says, pride coloring his tone. Then his grin widens, setting sea blue eyes to dancing once again. "She's newly expectin'. Can't fly for a time 'cos o' that, so. I'll have t' be callin' on a few rider friends so I can check in on 'er. Like t'day."

Greenrider. Newly expecting. Diem can wager a fair guess as to the identity of Zannen's sister. "Kyara." The name is said with a grin since she has a roster of pregnant dragonriders currently in Mirage. While the list isn't huge, she does recall conversations she's had with them. "No, I'm not a merchant and, yes, today's my day off." She pauses at another booth for a moment to admire another set of hairclips when the vendor spots her. The man is a tall, lean looking fellow dressed in native Igen garb as he beelines toward her with a grand smile. "Ah, Diem! Come to see my newest works of art, eh?" Tawny eyes lift and the goldrider extends her hand, palm down, to the vendor in greeting. "Hadrian, good to see you. Just shopping with a new friend of mine, Zannen. Dolphineer from Southern."

Sandy brows hike high as Zannen hears his sister named, the woman beside him grinning as she does so. At least that reaction allows him to narrow down the possibilities for her profession. "So ye're a dragonrider on a rest day," he notes, pausing beside her as his humor slips back into place. "But ye don't want it made plain ye're a rider-" And then the merchant spots her and calls her by name, and Zannen feels himself coloring a bit. Apparently it's a family trait. Now he's looking at Diem in quite a different light…though finds himself wondering why he needs to. Does know what she is now make their interaction thus far different somehow? The goldrider is suddenly introducing him, and his attention flicks smartly to the merchant. "Er. Well met, sir," the dolphineer says, giving the man a little bow." His eyes flick back to Diem with wry consternation as he bites back the urge to tease - not something he's about to do to Igen's Weyrwoman in front of a Bazaar merchant!

"Your sister will soon be transferring to my wing." Diem says as a matter of fact, a small grin curving her lips in the process. She then gestures for both men to keep their voices down, "Will both of you hush? I don't need everyone in the Bazaar to know I'm here." And she doesn't need nosy firelizards tattling on her to H'rik or S'tol. Or even Nasrin since Diem is a 'do as I say not as I do' mentor to her junior. She straightens a bit and waggles fingers at Hadrian, "I will be back tomorrow for this blue clip, Hadrian." And soon she is looping arms with Zannen since he's now her official chaperone as they continue their walk. Lucky him! "So are you excited to be an uncle? Kyara is so sweet."

Hey, at least Zannen hasn't blurted out her rank! He waits until Diem is finished dealing with the merchant before saying anything else, still trying to decide what exactly he's going to say or do. Then she takes care of that herself by slipping her arm through his as they step off to continue along. Does the dolphineer seem to stand a little straighter, perhaps? He grins again at the Weyrwoman's last question. "Aye, but don't let 'er fool ye," he drawls to the last part, though slips Diem a wink in punctuation of the fact that he's joking, of course. "I am excited. 'Specially with how worried she'd been. Makes me seriously consider coming' back up here for a time, but…I've got the dolphins t'get back to, 'specially one in particular. An' I know Ky wouldn't let me at any rate."

Diem shakes her head and agrees with Zannen's assessment, "Kyara doesn't seem like the type to approve of such a thing. Not when she knows she's being taken care of. Whether that's through me or her…" R'xim isn't her weyrmate as far as she knows. "Partner." Although she'll have to confirm the information through Zsaviranth when she gets a chance. They continue on through the Bazaar, pausing here and there to admire certain sparkly items on display and perhaps pivoting out of plain sight whenever an Igen guard passes by. The excitement sends a spike of adrenaline through the goldrider's body and she's grinning afterward, maybe even squeezing Zannen's arm a bit. "Oh? Do you have a sick dolphin at home?"

"Still gotta meet the man an' get 'is measure," Zannen notes when R'xim is mentioned. "Though I trust Kyara's judgement. She's always been a romantic, but picky enough when it comes to bein' full-on attached, at least." As they go along, he notes Diem's seeming predilection for sparkly things, a corner of his mouth twitching upward at the fact. There are a few unexpected pivots along the way, though he doesn't think much of there being a guard nearby at each one until somewhere around the fourth or fifth. The squeeze to his arm earns a grin in turning, edging toward rakish. Well this is kind of fun! Her last question earns a shake of his head. "Not sick. They're off t'warmer waters for th' winter. But I always find m'self watchin' for 'em, even though I know the pattern. Just…" He scratches at his jaw a bit again, thinking of how best to put it. "We partner with a dolphin if we've got a mutual love. Not such a deep thing as a dragon, o' course, but comparable, in ways. Got a brother out there in the water, if ye will. Tiro. We ain't officially teamed up yet, but I'm hopin' t'be, when he gets back. Just wantin' t'make sure I've got everything worked out with th' Masters by spring. Then gotta work things out with the pod."

Truth be told, Diem could learn a lot more about Dolphineers. At Igen, though, there isn't a need for them as there is at Southern — for obvious reasons. The pair pause their walking for a moment so that the goldrider can best another passing guardsman, which has her nodding up at Zannen with acute interest. "Clearly I need to study more of the seacraft and the dolphins that are partnered with them. If I have time on my next trip to Southern, I will." She unwraps her arm from around his and takes a step backward, tawny eyes bright with mischief and amusement. "You are a most gracious chaperone, Zannen. Say hello to your sister for me when you see her." It's not difficult to lose oneself in the mass of people that make up the Bazaar, which makes it easy for the Senior to blend in and out of the sight rather quickly.

"Well, I'd be happy t'fill ye in when ye're down there next," Zannen is quick to offer as the come to a stop and Diem lets go of his arm. The mischief he see in the gold rider's gaze has an intrigued smirk forming, and her next prompts him to offer up a bow, a little chuckle and a nod following her last. "I will. Good day to ye, Diem." He watches for a bit, indeed losing sight of her rather quickly in the milling crowd. Only then does he turn and continue along himself, his mind taking a good few moments to sort itself into giving him a definite destination after that unexpected detour.

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