It's been a damn cold night in Igen Weyr thus far, but that hasn't stopped the Zingari Caravan from keeing up with their regularly scheduled performance nights. And it hasn't stopped people from coming wither. Bundled against weather in the low twenties, a crowd gathers in the Zingari encampement to watch the carnival like shows they put on, to buy their whiskey (Zingari Red, a redfruit flavored whiskey), and to sample their wares and whores(escorts). The Zingari are as festive as ever, if a bit more covered in skin than most days. Reveka is amongst the crowd tonight, enjoying some free time because her act requires light, skin tight clothing that doesn't fare well in cold weather for the wearer. And so, she's got a night off because there are also no dance performances tonight. So, she makes her way to the food wagon and gets a warm bowl of curry, a mulled redfruit cider and seats herself where she can people watch.

It might be a damn cold night by Igen's standards, but for a girl who spent the first twelve turns of her life in High Reaches and has seen much of the northern continent since, it's tolerable. Kishivara sets out with only leather gloves, fur-lined boots, a light scarf wrapped around her neck to aide her pants and long-sleeved shirt in providing her warmth. The entire ensemble is in various shades in black and red. Perhaps people will think that she is from Benden? The thought provides her with amusement as she darts through the crowd, slipping her hand into pockets and purses before depositing her winnings, marks of various denominators and other valuable knick-knacks, in one of the pockets of the bag wrapped around her waist. She is as quick as a firelizard jumping between. There and back in the blink of an eye, near impossible to spot and leaving anyone who does catch a glimpse wondering if they might be seeing things. If you asked her and she told the truth, she'd say that anyone who thinks she's from Benden are foolish indeed, because tricks like that can only be pulled off by those who have no home. But even the best tricksters get tired. Due to the size of her bag and the crowd, she has only been nabbing small items tonight, but the amount seized and the energy put into doing it has begun to wear at her. When she begins to pant, she pulls herself out of the crowd and approaches an empty seat. That empty seat just so happens to be beside Reveka. Upon sitting down, she reaches up to pull down the deep red scarf covering her nose and mouth, revealing her flushed face in its entirely. Kishivara lets out a deep breath. "Some party," she says.

Kishivara might not be so bold int he Zingari crowds if she knew the Zingari raise and employ spies and thieves of their own. Better hope she's not caught by Javid or one of his Spy Adepts. As for Reveka though, she's just a dancer and performer, not tuned to the shady movements of others. However, her eyes do linger on that bag a bit suspiciously as Kishivara takes a seat next to her. She immediately knows the girl isn't from around here though, she doesn't have the look of Igen about her. "Aye, though no different than any other performance night. You should see a gather, those are quite the sight. Reveka gives a coy sort of smile before indulging in her mulled cider. "What brings you to the grounds tonight?" She asks. "I'm Reveka by the way." Reveka wipes her hands on a kerchief in her lap and holds out her right hand in greeting to the young woman.

A crooked smile crosses Kishivara's lips, followed by a chuckle. "Can't wait to see it, then! If it can beat out Benden's gathers, that'll really be something." She takes Reveka's hand and gives it a brisk shake. Or at least, it's brisk for a small fifteen turn old. "Kishivara. 'M not here for anything special, my mentor and I are new 'round here, thought I'd get out and try to sell some stuff." That is partially true, at least. She was bartering earlier and intends on getting some more sales done before one more round of stealing. It doesn't hurt to get some legitimate (for a given value of 'legitimate') business done in between her other ventures. She reaches into her bag and pulls a small vial of a bright red spice out of one of the non-stolen-goods pockets. "Don't suppose I can interest you in some seasonings? This'll… actually, it'll just about burn your tongue off, but some people like that stuff."

It's time Daenerys shows his face again, unhindered by work or whatever — he's got little in the way of spare time these days, serving out his sentence with the grit of one determined to pay back his debt for using his fists on some dumb schmuck. The fact that he also got some great whiskey out of it somehow makes yhe whole thing worth it, though. The performances are given a good look, though, admiring and even a little envious: he has yet to learn enough to be useful in that arena, but he will; oh, he will. In his wandering, he comes upon Reveka and Kishivara, sitting there looking very, very innocent— Daenerys doesn't believe it for a second though. He esges closer.

Reveka raises a brow at the vial of spice, a bit of suspicion limning her features. "We Zingari are fans of spice, but I don't think I'm up for my face being melted off, thanks." SHe chuckles a littlee and tucks into her curry, which is perfectly spiced as is. "You'd do better to hawk your wares in the bazaar, or possibly near your own wagon. I don't know that our leader would take too kindly to other traders honing in on her business." And it's true, Willa would probably go bullistic if she knew. Eyes flick to the side for a moment and catch sight of Daenerys, whom Reveka waves at, over her awkwardness around the man.

Kishivara shrugs and puts the spice back in her bag. "Fair enough. Can't say I like it much either." There's a reason why she was actually honest regarding the spice. Well, where it came from might not match up with what she would say if anyone asked her more about it, but she was honest about its effects at least. She doesn't see any point in pretending that a fucking hot spice is anything but a fucking hot spice. That just sounds like a disaster waiting to happen. Once the vial is back where it belongs, she braces her hands against her chair, leans back a little, and sighs. "'M mostly here to get out - I just do the 'sell some stuff' bit no matter where I am. Y'never know when opportunity'll strike. 'N I doubt I'm honing in - we're nomads, so most of the stuff we sell is from a good ways away. Doubt its the same as what you guy's've got." It's not. She knows this because even if they claim to sell a few of the same things, the odds of something the Zingari sell overlapping with one of the genuine items Lysadana has stocked are even lower than the names overlapping. Of course, since the Zingari wouldn't know this, it might still upset the caravan leader, but still doesn't bother her. She's not afraid of some random caravanleader. As good as she is, she doubts that Lysadana hasn't made at least a few enemies over the turns. Foolish bravery, too much confidence in her mentor, or perhaps warranted confidence? It's probably a mix of all three.

It might be awkward, yes — only Daenerys has likely already forgotten the cause of it. He's like that, our Daenerys: exceedingly forgiving of his own flaws, maybe. Or perhaps, he's just trying to keep the appearance of friendship to spare Reveka as much embarassment as possible. "Hey." He grins wryly at Reveka, then turns his attention to Kishivara. "Mmm. I'd still be careful where I hawked my wares, were I you." He shrugs his nonchalance at the whole thing, and settles himself quietly at that bench. "Reveka, did you perform tonight?" He asks her, curious.

"Aye, maybe not the same, but the Zingari are old and far reaching and rooted here in Igen. Willimina has clout, and you're selling on her ground. I personally don't give a whip if you do, but she might." A good thing it is that Reveka can't read thoughts. But then Daen is arriving, and asking questions. "Hmm-mm, no. Too cold to wear that little and Willa had no dance scheduled for tonight. And I can see why, the firedancers are getting all the attention." Reveka chuckles and aims her chin to the poi masters at work.

There are few things Kishivara is better at than lying. However, she is also more than a little proud. She could pretend to be scared of this stranger, but is she willing to swallow her pride to do so? Nah. A fifteen-turn-old not being intimidated by someone she's never heard of shouldn't be that surprising anyway. The surprising bit is why she isn't scared. She has faith in her mentor, but that faith is there because she knows that Lysadana is a woman who is willing to take any trouble someone gives her and return it with all the ruthlessness she can muster and not a drop of mercy. Even if you can keep most people from finding out, because someone will inevitably discover when they've been sold snakeoil, someone does not last alone for as she has in her line of business without plucking a few eyes. Since she is learning from her, Kishivara is just as bad. Right? This confident, surely wicked girl, unwilling to bend, shrugs. "Eh. Never get anything done if you're too careful. Maybe we can work out a deal or something later on though." She waves her hand dismissively. "I dunno. Lysa's the one in charge." A drop of disappointment enters her tone at that, finely crafted to sound so very genuine. Her mentor couldn't care less where she wanders as long as she doesn't take steal from her and is back before they're ready to leave. If she's not, she'll get left behind. In a quieter, sulky tone, she adds, "'sides, it's not like we stay anywhere for long anyway." A tiny huff escapes her lips. She sits back up and kicks at the ground, accidentally spraying a few specks of dirt at the new arrival in the process. The movement draws her attention to him. Her eyes light up with curiosity and a playful grin tugs at her lips. "Anyway, what's your name, muscles?"

Oh, but this girl's gonna be… interesting. What kind of interesting remains to be seen, though. Daenerys merely raises an eyebrow at Reveka during Kishivara's little speech, unsure of whether to be amused or annoyed. But still, he's generally a rather patient sort; he'll just let life teach her some things, when appropriate. "Mm makes sense." He acknowledges Reveka's point, though there's a hint of wistfulness in his tone as he adds, "Well, I'll certainly miss what little you wear when you dance." He gives her a mischevious little grin.

Reveka raises her brows at Kishivara and just keeps her own council on that. "Suit yourself." It's the first time Reveka's ever met someone who didn't in some way know of the Zingari's reach and power. Kishivara might rue the day she stepped on Zingari ground if Willa ever catches her at stealing or selling in her turf. After that, a wide eyed look is given at Daen's comment and Reveka isn't quite sure how to process it, but a quick flash of temper crosses her face. "I have to go." She suddenly announces and stands. She wanders off into the crowd and disappears trying to process Daen's comment.

They sound like they don't believe her. Good. Sure, there's an impulsive part of Kishivara that's annoyed that she isn't being taken seriously, but ultimately, being underestimated is a good thing. The people you aren't watching are the ones who will have the easiest time stabbing you in the back. At Reveka's sudden departure, she offers a lazy wave and a quick, "see ya." Then she looks back at Daenerys who, having failed to give her a name, will continue to be 'muscles' for the foreseeable future. Once Reveka's out of hearing range, she says, "I think you upset her, muscles. Maybe she'll forgive you if you get up there 'n dance without much on." She wiggles her eyebrows, as if she's someone who has any business saying and doing that instead of a youngish teen small enough to look several turns younger. Has she even really hit puberty yet? No, not entirely. That's fine, since she's not entirely sure what she's trying to imply with the eyebrow wiggle. It's just entertaining to see people squirm.

"Well… see ya, Reveka." Well. Not precisely the reaction he'd been going for, but Daenerys will have to take it; nobody ever said he was particularly good with women. He's seen that flash of temper, and it somehow intrigues him more than all the sweet shyness one might expect. He turns a wry eye on Kishivara, then, for her suggestion. "Not in public. And my name's Daenerys." His smirk appears, then, brief and self-deprecating. In private, however, he might be willing to do that for her.

Okay, so… she's a good liar, but as long as they aren't talking about business, this isn't a situation where she needs to have her lying mask on, and also, what? She may be an awkward virgin who wouldn't quite know what she meant (Well, she knows why people hit on each other and what people do naked, but she doesn't know know.) by her come-on if she wasn't looking to entertain herself by making other people uncomfortable, but she does know when her come-on is vaguely accepted. This is not a situation Lysadana trained her for. Kishivara's face turns red and she unconsciously attempts to lower her head into her shoulders. Suddenly, all of her previous irreverence is gone and she's the one squirming. "Oh," she squeaks. "Kishivara. I'm Kishivara, I mean."

Oh, how adorable: the girl blushes, and for no reason. Daenerys gives her another gentle smile, resisting the urge to pat her on the head. Because, likely, she reminds him of another young lady, who he somehow co-opted as a younger sister. "At any rate, I've got to go. Perhaps see if I can convince Reveka not to punch me, or something." And maybe, just maybe, explain that remark of his in a much, MUCH more positive light. "Stay out of trouble, kid."

That smile should have made her feel annoyed or insulted. At the very least, it wouldn't do anything against the kind of person she's meant to be. Instead, something about it makes it easier for her to fall back into her rhythm after her flustered moment. What's worse is that a tiny part of her is disappointed about him leaving. He seemed nice. Kishivara doesn't do nice. Still… it may be pleasant to soak in the general vicinity of niceness every now and then. "Awww, but I like trouble," she playfully whines. She undermines it by leaning back and lazily waving goodbye. That seat is where she will stay for another quarter candlemark, at which point she will get a little more 'work' done before returning to the wagon. By the time she steps inside, the warnings she dismissed earlier will have begun ringing in her ears again. Perhaps it would be a good idea to tell Lysadana, just in case…