Who

Divale, Eala

What

Wingsecond and Wingleader briefly cross paths after a spring storm washes over the Weyr…

When

It is evening of the fourth day of the fifth month of the thirteenth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Central Bazaar, Igen Weyr

OOC Date 28 Feb 2018 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.


Evening settles over the Weyr and with it comes a spring storm that blew in fast and is only now dying out. The winds have calmed and the rain has gone from torrential downpour to something a little more bearable, if steady. The Bazaar, predictably, is all but deserted, with only a few folk darting in and out from shops or ducking under any form of cover. Divale has a few candlemarks yet before her patrol begins and has taken up brief respite from the rain under the curved archway of one of the shops along the main part of the Bazaar. The shop itself is closed, but there’s enough overhang by the locked door to keep her dry. Despite the rain, which gradually ebbs, her dark gaze steadily observes the area around her. Waiting, perhaps?

While most seem to be avoiding the rain as much as possible, Eala seems to have embraced it — or simply given into the inevitable. The greenrider is dressed as though out for a jog, but her clothes are plastered to her skin and the knot of blonde hair atop her head is looking a bit droopy with the weight of water. She's checking in on stalls as she passes, ensuring that tarps meant to protect them are well in place. There's also a sharp eye kept out for the owners of said stalls, to see which ones have been entirely abandoned, and who chooses to huddle under some form of shelter until the storm passes. She'd take notes, but there wouldn't be much left in this weather. "Afraid of the rain?" she comments, almost seeming to pass by the brownrider before she speaks.

“Hardly.” Divale answers in her driest of tones but hinting at a bemused smirk. She watched Eala’s approach, quirking a brow for the rain soaked clothes but keeping any would-be joking remarks to herself. “Just don’t feel like spending my shift soaked to the bone. Chafing is a bitch, you know.” Don’t they all? Quietly she shifts in the half shadows, but does not step out from her cover; only so far as to comfortably speak with the greenrider. “Anything?” she murmurs low, while gazing past her and towards the Bazaar. Cryptic prompt… or is it?

"It's inevitable." Being soaked to the bone or chafing? Eala doesn't expand further, instead moving closer to the brownrider and the promise of some shelter. She raises one hand to brush it across her forehead, keeping a few droplets from falling into her eyes. It's a bit of a futile measure at this point, though. There's a bit of jewelry hidden in her palm, and she flashes this at the other woman before tucking it away beneath the damp folds of her clothing. "I'll have to have a conversation with the owner about his security," given that she just picked that piece up with no protest, "but otherwise nothing."

Divale chuckles low in her throat when the palmed jewelry is flashed and her mouth quirks into a more visible line of amusement. “You would think a jeweller would be the most cautious of the lot,” she mutters. “… good luck with that.” The ‘conversation’ to come, that is. She quietly exhales, features settling back to a more stoic neutrality. “Would seem I am in for a quiet shift, then.” Read: boring AF. Silence for a heartbeat or two, and then quietly she shares. “Ran into R’xim earlier today. He’s as much of an asshole as he was before.” But? More is implied but she doesn’t expand on it further.

Eala shrugs, brushing fingers over where the brooch rests to ensure the wet folds of her shirt cover rather than expose the trinket, playing it off as though trying to remove some of the water from her clothing. "It doesn't look like it's the best quality," she admits, her own inspection having been cursory at best given the situation. "So perhaps he simply doesn't care." Or he's off doing something more troubling than abandoning his wares — it's always a possibility in the bazaar. "Enjoy it." 'While it lasts' is the unspoken end to that statement, as the greenrider clearly feels that quiet isn't going to last. "Does he? I haven't seen him. Not that surprising, since he's in another wing." She manages to only sound slightly bitter about that betrayal.

“Anything goes here. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was shoddy make…” Divale is not one for jewelry, nor does she seem overly concerned. If her gaze drops to where that brooch rests, well… could be for a variety of reasons. There will always be cheap wares here and it’s not her duty to warn consumers of what they purchase… unless it’s that damned counterfeit blue glow. To her relief, THAT has come to a near end of late. “No promises.” On enjoying the ‘quiet’ shift — she tends to do better when kept busy. A nod and she’s aware of that slight bitterness from Eala’s tone. “He’s… changed. Can’t put my finger on it, but maybe it was necessary. And besides? I’m not complaining.” There’s a broader smirk, mischief and hidden laughter in her eyes for a brief spell as she holds the greenrider’s gaze.

"Most of it is shoddy." This is offered up with a brief laugh, because Eala knows too well the shysters who enjoy the fast-paced atmosphere of the bazaar. The key is to get the sale before the customer knows what they're buying. But there is a great deal of relief to be found in no longer having to worry about old men dancing naked in the lake — or at least, none that can be attributed to faux blue glow. "Make one of the new guards do extra rounds," she suggests with faint amusement. It's said in a low enough tone that only the brownrider can hear, lest anyone accuse her of being cruel to the newbies. That smile upon her lips fades with the thought of R'xim. As much as she wanted his knot, she's not pleased with the way it happened — nor has her trust in him ever been fully restored. "Good for him." It doesn't quite sound sincere. "You'd better not." This, at least, regains a sense of humor. "Don't forget that you outrank him. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think it's about time I remembered what dry clothes feel like." And with that, the greenrider is off, leaving the bazaar in Divale's capable hands.

Divale’s humour turns dark and shadowed now, voicing another low chuckle for the parting remarks. “How could I forget that?” She hasn’t. As Eala moves to depart, she’ll dip her head in a respectful nod but remain under that archway for a good stretch of time. Only once the storm has passed and the skies begin to clear does the brownrider begin her rounds. And if it does prove to be quiet? She’ll take up Eala’s suggestion and, barring that… Divale has some rather fanciful imagery of a rain-soaked greenrider to occupy her thoughts. No crime in that, right?

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