Who

Sienna, Cha'el

What

Cha’el has a shopping list which Sienna aids in helping him fill, conversation follows several threads including the beginnings of what might be a diabolical plan.

When

It is midmorning of the twenty-fifth day of the eleventh month of the first turn of the

Where

Igen Weyr, Central Bazaar

OOC Date

 

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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.


The morning is clear and relatively cool, though things will no doubt warm up by the afternoon. Now though, things are nice. Sienna is walking down the streets from the Stein's homes, where the twins are still growing happy and healthy, and Sienna is smiling as she walks. Dressed in more traditional clothes, she adjusts the headscarf over her curls and flips one end over her shoulder to keep it from blowing about in the light breeze.

With drills only set for an hour’s time, Cha’el, sporting a black eye squeezed shut by swelling is a man with a mission. One that clearly is completely out of his area of expertise for the Weyrsecond can be seen frowning in concentration at a variety of items laid out before him on a vendor’s table. Three lengths of colored cloth, peacock blue, emerald green and the third shades of pink and lavender shading through to magenta and deep purple are each fingered in turn as he scraps a thumbnail across his lower lip.

Sienna spots the Weyrsecond and hesitates before slowly approaching, frowning at his eye. "Now what." It's more statement than question, her expression slipping into one of sympathy and 'what did you do now?'-ness.

Truthfully, although he’s currently having to do the one-eyed squint, Cha’el doesn’t parse the meaning of Sienna’s comment and breaking his study of the cloth offers her a warm smile. “I’m not sure which one would be best. She just said a bolt of cloth, trinkets and…bells.” Baritone tilting upward as if perhaps the greenrider might understand the mystery of these things requested.

Sienna lifts her brows and points to his face. "And that?" She looks down at the cloth he's fingering. "Is she making a dancing skirt?" she muses.

Reflexively, Cha’el’s hand lifts and he prods at the cut off to one side of his eyebrow, then pokes at the swollen edges of his eye, expression clouding and lips thinning. “Lets just say that Trek didn’t like what I had to say to her.” Which resulted in the bluerider being stripped of her wingleader’s knot and N’cal stepping up temporarily in her place. Attention drifts back to the material on display and the Weyrsecond’s features crumple about an uncertain line, broad shoulders shifting in a shrug. “She didn’t say. Just that I was to get her those things. I figure maybe a dress?”

Sienna winces. "Shards. Must have been a doosy…" What he said to her. She looks back at the items. "Who is 'she'?" she asks, touching the green. "I really like the green but isn't it considered bad luck in this time?"

“She uh…it doesn’t matter,” Cha’el decides and waves the matter aside, for while the bluerider had been entirely out of line, he respects her too much to air the dirty laundry of her demotion in public. As for the she that he’s attempting to shop for, that one blue eye slips a sidelong look at Sienna. “Just someone that I owe.” There’s probably more but he’s being rather tightlipped about it. That is until a snort is uttered. “She’s probably superstitious enough to freak out about green.” He agrees and dismisses that length of cloth. “I like this one.” The swirled fabric of deepening pinks and lavenders. “It’ll go nicely with her hair.” And the frown. “What does a woman mean when she says she wants…trinkets? What are trinkets? Like figurines and shit?” Clueless this one.

Sienna lifts a brow and watches him for a long moment, before she decides to let it go with a soft sigh. Fine, don't give her all the delicious detail. She'll help him anyway. "What color is her hair?" she asks, studying the gradient fabric. "Lots of skill needed to make a fabric like this. Probably more expensive." As for trinkets, Sienna shrugs. "I honestly don't know. If it's for a dress though…then I'd think beads, gems, things she can adorn it with."

Grateful when Sienna drops the topic of how he got that blackened eye, Cha’el looks even more like a fish flopping on the deck of a trawler. “Uh, its sort of a klah-without-milk color with this kinda red shine to it?” Espresso would be the word he’s trying to describe but he’s male so he breaks it down to practical, everyday items. “The expense doesn’t matter,” he states for to his mind, it’s the least he can do. “Beads and shit?” Blink. To the vendor he gestures to the fabric that appears to have caught his eye. “This one and uh, do you have,” a glance to Sienna to check he gets it right, “beads and gems and bells. Little tiny ones about this size.” Thumb and forefinger demonstrate a dainty size for he’s pretty sure he’s gotten that one right. Back to his shopping aide with a smile. “How are the twins?”

Sienna laughs a bit, shaking her head and pushing curls away from her face, back beneath her headscarf. "It'd help if we knew what she was using it for," she admits. Silent while he places his order, she then smiles, wide and bright. "Growing up!" she says with a light laugh. "They're getting big…so big. Not babies anymore." Sniff.

Sheepish now, Cha’el rubs at the back of his neck. “I didn’t think to ask what she wanted it for.” But he is determined to get it RIGHT! “Aye?” His smile returns and deepens on the matter of Sienna’s little ones. “They walking and talking yet?” The wrapped purchase is handed over to him and the marks paid over in return though the vendor shakes his head apologetically on the matter of the other items he’d requested. Perplexed he turns a hopeful look onto the greenrider. Maybe she’ll know where to get them?

Sienna exhales with a soft laugh. "Walking and talking and getting into all /sorts/ of things," she says, but there's love in her eyes as she says it. "I swear…they're so much like W'rin right now…" Stomping around causing mischief. Terrible Twos! His hopeful look has her chuckling, and she tips her head. "This way."

There’s a laugh to match Sienna’s as Cha’el takes up his parcel and tucks it under an arm, his shoulders strangely bare of any knot. “Do they stay with you at night? Or are they fostering with the Steins twenty-four-seven?” Relief shows itself in grateful smile when she leads him off to where he might complete his mission.

Sienna shakes her head. "No, no. They're with the Steens all the time. I go visit twice a seven. We might change it up a bit though as they get older. They might do sleepovers at our weyr, once they're old enough for it. But no, they're with them all the time." There's a flicker of emotion on her face, but she pushes it aside as she stops outside of another cloth-maker's stall, but this one also has all the tassles, beads, buttons, bells, shiny metal discs, and other things that she hopes fall in th category of 'trinket'.

Sienna’s reply elicits a frown from the knotless Weyrsecond, the expression quickly smoothed away because it’s not his place to judge how another chooses to raise their offspring. And so he simply gives a nod and draws to a halt beside the greenrider. “She’s a trader if that helps any?” Some of the items on display vaguely familiar with regards to the shiny metal discs, beads and bells. The tassles draw a privately wicked smirk into place but are discarded from interest.

Sienna crosses her arms over her chest and smiles, shrugging and gesturing for him to pick out whatever he thinks this mysterious trader girl would like. Her attention is drawn back towards one particilar street, but she pulls it back to the present with a sigh.

Cha’el isn’t that engrossed as he picks out an assortment of metal discs, bells and beads that he doesn’t notice Sienna’s backward glance, her sigh sifting a concerned expression into place. “Everything okay?”

Sienna looks back at him with a fleeting smile. "Oh. I wish I could spend more time with them. But." She lifts her hands, palms up, and exhales. "Work." That explains it all, doesn't it? "Maybe when they're older. Things can be more flexible then."

Understanding softens bearded features at Sienna’s admission. “It must be hard being parted from them.” Shiny metal discs, some of those chosen matching the hues of the fabric bought as do the beads toned in golds, pinks and lavenders are added to the small pile of bells and the vendor asked to wrap them in a small intricately carved box Cha’el had picked up that was lurking amongst the wares. “Does W’rin visit them much?” So many questions.

Sienna nods. "It is," she agrees quietly, arms hugging herself as she watches what he chooses. "He does. As often as he can. We have scheduled times we go visit, so. He comes to those whenever he can. He loves them. It's just hard." Work. Weyr.

Respect for the pair of them deepens for Cha’el knows firsthand what its like to have someone depending on you for everything outside of your dragon. And his experience is yet new and involves an adult rather than a small infant or a toddler. “I’m sure they both know that they are loved and will grow up appreciating the sacrifices you’ve made for them.” One can only hope. Again, the required marks are handed over and the square parcel of carved box with shiny trinkets within is added to the softer, fabric bundle.

Sienna nods, and her smile returns, blooming across her lips and reaching up to her eyes. "They know us. They recognize us and they're happy to see us. And not that sad when we go. It is the best solution. They know us, we know them, but they have that stability and reliability that we just can't give them." Not when things can pull them away at any moment.

A nod and a smile greets Sienna’s words and then Cha’el brings about a change of topics as they meander away from the vendor, the streets a vibrant slice of bazaar life mostly free of the undercurrents that had lead up to the purge. “How are the weyrlings doing?” Professional curiosity for given their recent heavy losses, every man, woman and dragon is needed more now than ever before.

"Coping," is Sienna's quiet answer. "Each in their own way, but they're coping. Some of them are scared, some of them are angry…they'll work through it. We'll help them work through it, those that need the help. We're keeping a close eye on them and on their dragons, to see if any are in danger of breaking from the fear. But they're strong. I think they'll be fine."

“Fucking Thread,” Cha’el curses quietly, his grip tightening about the packages he carries. “When I was a weyrling we had time but now, these kids are being shoved into wings and led into a fight that some of them,” those that impressed at a young age, “are just not old enough to cope with.”

Sienna nods. "We're doing what we can," she says softly. "They're still in Mosaic, and the youngest ones…we can keep those back a bit, let them mature a bit more before they're put into wings." They still have that option, but if Igen's numbers dwindle even further…

Turning to face Sienna, Cha’el’s expression grave. “I don’t want any kids dying on my watch, Sienna, but if we can’t get more dragons in the sky we fucked six ways to next seven’s rest day.” A heavy sigh is exhaled and he sets a hand to her shoulder giving it a light squeeze. “I know you’re doing the best you can. And we appreciate that. But there’s gotta be another way. Maybe we can do some recruiting under the radar, pull riders from other weyrs by offering them some or other benefits.” Musing aloud he is but it bears thinking about.

Sienna stands still beneath his touch, and she nods. "I know," she says quietly. "But what's worse? A distracted, scared kid on a distracted, scared dragon who don't know what they're doing? Or a hole in the formation?" Neither is ideal. As for recruiting, she nods her head slightly. "It's a possibility," she murmurs. "Perhaps a good one, but I'm no good with politics."

Cunning the pattern of lips within the neat crop of beard. “Less about politics and more about…showing an ace under the card table.” In other words, Cha’el is one who has no qualms about poaching riders from other Weyrs. “We just need to find the right kind of drawcard.” Probably something his wily assistant will be good at ferreting out.

Sienna nods. "Well…what can Igen offer riders that no other weyr can?" she asks quietly.

“Sand?” Cha’el replies with a twitch of sardonic amusement at play.

Sienna smirks. "Great. So. Glasscrafting riders. That's our niche."

“Could be,” the knotless Weyrsecond returns tilting a crooked grin down to Sienna. “Fly Thread and blow glass. Could become the new In Thing.” Just then a young female rider out of Arroyo skips in beside Cha’el and snaps a smart salute. “Sir. You said to come get you when L’ren got back in.” The salute is returned and a crisp nod given. “Tell him to wait for me at the Standing Stones. I’ll be there in a few.” Turning to the assistant weyrlingmaster, the brownrider offers an apologetic smile. “Duty calls. But thanks for the help. And Sienna,” features soften a touch, “you and your team are doing a good job.”

Sienna chuckles, wrapping her arms around herself. She dips her head in greeting to the Arroyo rider, silent as her message is delivered. "Duty calls," she echoes wiht a small smile. "It was my pleasure. And I'm glad to hear that, sir, thank you. Clear skies. I hope that's," she nods to his parcels, "what she wanted."

“That makes two of us.” Cha’el replies with a slight grimace for he’s already been on the receiving end of the unnamed woman’s ire more than once and he doesn’t relish the thought of being so again. That said, he turns smartly about and heads back the way he’d come mulling over the conversation held with Sienna as he goes.

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