Ryott, Evgeny, Ilarios, Tziporah


Just some time off for the spylings and a lone Zingari guard. Tzi makes a cameo

Some Mild Profanity


-- On Pern --
It is 5:16 PM where you are.
It is sunset of the fourth day of the twelfth month of the thirteenth turn of the 12th pass.
In Igen:
It is the fourth day of Winter and 70 degrees. The day dawns bright and clear. Everything is coated in sand, but no clouds linger on the horizon.
In Southern:
It is the fourth day of Summer and 108 degrees. It is a bright, sunny day.
In Southern Mountains:
It is the fourth day of Summer and 28 degrees. It's really damn cold out.


Igen Weyr, Central Bazaar, Sidestreet, The Pit

OOC Date 09 May 2018 06:00


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"Heya short shit."


The Pit

One does not enter The Pit so much as descend into it. Why else the name? The Steen ancestors paid for their square footage with sweat, excavating the area and building curved walls up around it. Wide, smooth steps descend into a large entry area that overlooks the pit and galleries. Floors, ceilings and walls have been whitewashed with limestone paste, increasing the amount of light reflected back from the numerous glow baskets hung on the walls. A rounded doorway to the right leads one into the business' "office", which is furnished in spartan style: cushions for kneeling or sitting upon, a desk that's low to the ground constructed of the same whitewashed stone as the rest of the building, and niches carved out of the walls themselves for decorative pieces. Here is a small sculpture of men wrestling, there is a wooden carving of a champion with a foot upon his vanquished foe.

Continuing on through the lobby brings one to another set of six stairs that descend into the galleries surrounding the sand-filled pits. A low wall separates audience from combatants, but even at its highest point, those in the galleries are never more than twenty feet away from the action. The sand is raked daily, with fresh sand added whenever the blood to soil ratio becomes too great.

It is the fourth day of Winter and 70 degrees. The day dawns bright and clear. Everything is coated in sand, but no clouds linger on the horizon.

Since the Armida clan came to join the Haeyleri, Evgeny has made it a thing to explore a new place every day. He's saved Igen's bazaar for nearly last because he's been wanting to take his time with it. The bazaar has many niches and crevices, many businesses and large crowds, alleyways and rooftops too. It's a spyling's dream. Beyond the seedy back alleys and the blooded families with their snoots in the air, and the market feel of the bazaar is the Pit, a special favorite of his. Full of a brilliant violent brutality, it is a place where men can be men, and marks can be made, if you know who to deal with. This night, he's early and while there's not much of a crowd now, there will be when the fights that have the popular brawlers begin. For now, seats are still empty, but filling and the first rookie fights have begun. Evgeny finds a place with a good view and settles in. He'll watch until the crowd is so thick they won't know they're being pick pocketed.

Ilarios hasn't been back at Igen for more than a few sevendays himself. He's made his way through the various 'attractions' of the Bazaar as well as the rest of the Weyr and yet here he is again. Perhaps he enjoys the crash of violence that comes with each match. Whatever the reason Illarios has decided to make his 'rounds' to extend to this part of the Bazaar. Idly he watches the fighters as well as the crowd with a practiced eye.

After the earlier sandstorm, Ryott has been extra restless. Wandering through the Bazaar, she came across the sidestreet that houses the entrance to the Pit. Having heard much about fighting venue, especially all the gamblign that goes on, the spyling can't help herself as she waits for a large group heading in. With her head down, she alters her gait to one that has a certain boyish feel to it while she uses her small size to slip in around any bouncer that may be at the door. A quick scan from downcast eyes, shows her a couple of familiar face among the sparse crowd. Slipping carefully around the few people gathered, she stays out of Evgeny's eyeline until she can slip into the seat behind him, her footsteps muffled with the help of her soft leather shoes. Leaning forward she flicks his ear with a low chuckle, "Fancy seeing you here."

Evgeny rolls his eyes and head backward, the familiar tone of Ryott's voice making a slow, arrogant smile slide across Evgeny's lips. "Heya short shit." He greets, his tone teasing and his face full of mischief. He turns on the bench, so he can watch the fight and talk at the same time. "What brings you to the debaucherous depths of the pit?" From somewhere, he fishes a redfruit and the task of skinning it falls to his boot knife.

Ilarios circles in a slow sort of oblong way around the actual pit. Does he recognize a few of those within the actual crowd? Of course, he does share a wagon with at least one of them. (Likely when she bothers with actually being in the wagon.) His size alone is one of his strengths though and people tend to move out of his way when he moves through a crowd, his demeanor doesn't hurt either. Guard scowl in place he moves to find a seat, strangely enough near the pair of posturing spylings.

The juvenile nickname that her fellow spyling has adopted for her only garners a sharply raised ebony brow from Ryott before she leans back, gripping the edge of the bench to keep her from falling backwards completely. Head swings lazily from one side to the other, features impassively neutral, bordering on bored, though secretly, she sizes up a few of the patrons, or rather their mark pouches. Finally with a heavy sigh of disinterest, she shrugs her shoulders, "Bored." she clips simply.

Evgeny chuckles and shakes his head. "Well, you'll find plenty to do here if you don't get caught." Evgeny's barely old enough to be in here. He continues skinning his redfruit, attempting to get it all off in one go. "Planning on filling your pockets?" The Zingari guard's presence is noted with a long side-eye. Hmm. Pleasure or business? He wonders.

Ilarios is a bit of both, not that he'd ever admit it to either of the spylings from his caravan. His brown gaze rests on first Evgeny, then Ryott before he gives the slightest of nods in their direction. Passing them by to hassle someone that isn't likely vaguely related to him. Just think, Ryott the kid sister he never had or wanted. Alas. A hand goes up to snake through his hair, giving him a moment to eye the various people around. A muttered comment notes "Bet the scrawny fellow wins." as he passes by Evgeny.

"Didn't seem to have any problems getting in," Ryott comments dryly with another shrug of her shoulders as she tilts her head to one side to give him a look before her gaze wanders off again. As to the other spyling's last, she says matter-of-factly, "I don't gamble my marks," which is a bald-faced lie, being from the small Bitran contigent of the Zingari. What she really means is that she never gambles unless she's sure of which way the game is rigged. That Zingari guard will be followed over by Ryott's sharp ebony eyes, her expression still and steady as stone. His comment does have her little Bitran ears perking up although no evidence is displayed on her features.

Tziporah is definitely not old enough to be here — but somehow, she's manage anyway with a wink and a smile and a too-innocent gaze; it never fails that there will be at least one male taken in by that act of hers, even if her own clan has long since cottoned on to her con. And look, there are even other Zingari there! She quickly joins the group, winkling right on in aas if she's been invited. "Hi, y'all." She flashes a bright smile all around. "Whatcha doin'?" Right. As if they'd tell her.

Evgeny can feel his chances at pocket thievery slipping away, too many Zingari faces about. Oh well. Another day, another catch. As to gambling, Evgeny chuckles and has a feeling what Ryott says is a lie, but he doesn't call her out on it. "I gamble plenty, and lose some. I've an eye for the fighters lately." He snorts at Ilarios' suggestion. "Don't be fooled, his opponent has come out of worse scrapes than that!" His eyes wander over to Tziporah when she arrives, an eyebrow raising as he slices off a bit of redfruit and brings it to hi mouth. "Hey." Comes his short greeting. The face is familiar, but he doesn't think he's met this one yet.

Ilarios is thankfully not in charge of who is old enough or not for the pit. Finally he perches for a moment on the edge of a stool and eyes the fight, the sound of Evgeny's snort doesn't have far to travel to his ears. "Perhaps. We shall see won't we? Who's the marks to spare?" the last question coming out more as a challenge to those closer to him than the spylings. And of course a few with bigger purses can't help but chime in about the amount of marks that they have to throw in to the pot for who wins which fights. This leaves Ilarios with the slightest of smirks, his resting place vacated in a matter of moments as he moves onwards through the crowds.

Ryott manages not to groan audibly as Tziporah comes up with her bright smile and greeting. The youngest among them, she sweeps the room again, hoping they aren't drawing too much attention to themselves. Like Evgeny, Ryott is seeing her chances at lightening a few loads quickly slip through her fingers. "Heya Tzi. No offense, but when you're somwhere you shouldn't be, maybe don't draw attention to others in the same situation as you?" she says with a healthy dose of sarcasm before her eyes dart further in hope of no one spying the two underage girls together. "As to what we're doing. Not sure what his ass is planning," she pokes Evgeny in the side with the toe of her boot to indicate who she is speaking of, "But I am just here to see some people beat the shit out of each other." she says as she cranes her neck with a sudden interest in the fight.

"Well, if you weren't skulking about so obviously, people would be unlikely to wonder why you're here." Tziporah points out with equal sarcasm. "You know, have a sufficiently believable story, or something." She shrugs, affably. "Who's to say I don't have a perfectly legitimate reason to come here?" As Ryott decides she's paying attention to the fight, Tziporah, too, rests her gaze on th men in the ring, beating the snot out of each other. Interesting. Very interesting. Boys. Whatever shall they do without their fights?

Evgeny grins as Ilarios calls out for bets. Evgeny will take up on that, he's got marks to spare. And hopefully, at least this will turn a profit for the young man tonight. Since he can't pickpocket his way through as originally planned. He's also got bets on a brownrider's fight later, so, he's got some hope. He can't help but agree with Ryott when she tells Tzi to keep it on the DL, but he'll never say he agrees with the short one. Ryott gets a glare as he bites into the flesh of his redfruit. "Hey! No Poking! Remember what happened last time shorty?" If memory serves Evgeny correctly, he'd won that scuffle.

Ilarios isn't opposed to the odd bet, or the odd random loss of marks when someone takes a trip to the 'necessary'. The slightest of smirks is offered in the random direction the spylings might be occupying. Then he's off placing his bet with the bookie and on to the next part of his rounds.

It takes all Ryott's self-control not to roll her eyes at Tziporah's comment about skulking about. Shaking her head a little bit, she chooses not to answer the older girl because she would rather not call more attention to herself. Evgeny's glare is met with a smirk curling up the corners of her lips, as she affects an air of confusion, "Last time? No idea what you're talking about," she says, tone bewildered, eyes growing wide and blinking innocently. He may have won that scuffle, but the spyling girl is patient, knowing it's better for one's opponent to believe they have the upper hand.

The rest of the evening is spent in…weird companionship, that is, until they all really want to get about what they came for. Tzi and the guard to watch the fights, and Ryott and Evgeny to their pickpocketing. Evgeny doesn't manage that big a haul from his pocket thievery, but he does win two out of three bets and only loses a mark or two to the bet lost. So it evens out. What Ryott gets is a mystery, but knowing the short little spyling, she probably did pretty decently. As to whether the guard won out or not, that remains to be seen.

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