Who

R'ku, Ibrahim

What

R'ku has a present for the Master Starcrafter, but apparently the present had different ideas.

None

When

t is the thirty-first day of Autumn and 72 degrees. The small dark cloud has grown rapidly over night, covering the blue sky. It blows a furious rush of stirring wind. In a moment, the daylight is gone as visibility plummets. The clouds of stinging sand mercilessly flog all living things as the air itself turns against you. Every living thing chokes on sand and dust before escaping inside.

Where

Central Bazaar, Igen Weyr

OOC Date 28 Apr 2018 05:00

 

r-ku_default.jpg ibrahim_default.jpg

"Here, you impress the thing." - R'ku



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 heat of the morning has finally broken in the afternoon. Not to mention, the sandstorm that raged through several candlemarks ago has finally burned itself out, leaving a fine grit of sand all over everything. It's also left the Bazaar being less crowded than it usually would be in the early afternoon, though there are certainly plenty of customers roaming around the stalls and even a few pickpockets darting suspiciously through the largest knots of people. Various smells clash from different food vendor's stalls and there are various cries from merchants and customers alike. R'ku has settled himself at a small table outside his favorite food vendor stall, a large lunch arrayed in front of him as he winds down from his slightly delayed morning drills. His riding jacket is thrown over the back of his chair, but his Wingleader knot is displayed prominently on his shoulder. A snoozing gold fire lizard is perched on his opposite shoulder and there also seems to be a tiny clay pot full of sand sitting rather conspicuously amidst the various bits of food that the bronzerider is consuming.

Oh, the Bazaar! Such color, such prosperity! To an outsider's eyes — especially one so recently come from barely above subsistence level living — it's an allmost painful scene to watch, even with its lowered volume today. Having only been here once, to trade Ibrahim has yet to lose his fascination with the hustle, bustle, and knots of danger; fascinated, and slightly nervous, for this is so many people to him. Ever a brave man (for he's ventured far, far from his humble and restrictive beginnings in the junges of Southern), he vetures toward that very food stall R'ku has just used for food to quell the hungry beast growling in his middle. Soon, he's placed his order and is looking fo a place to perch before it's done. His gaze rests briefly on R'ku, noting knots, pots, and paperwork with mild curiosity.

R'ku rustles the hidework slightly and heaves a sigh, pausing to take a bite of the meat wrap in his other hand. As he chews, he lets his attention wander to the crowd - either he's waiting for someone in particular or he's just ignoring work for a bit to people watch. But perhaps it's both. He does notice Ibrahim's sort of lost expression and hands full of food. He gestures at the empty seat across from his own spot, "You're welcome to sit there if you like. I'm not expecting anyone for another candlemark or more - sandstorm's delayed them. It's the best table for people watching." He flashes a quick grin, white teeth bright against his coppery skin, "New to the Bazaar?"

"That obvious, is it?" Ibrahim has the grace to grin at his own fresh-and-shiny-newbie awe. He'll take the proffered seat with thanks, settling his meal carefully so he doesn't spill anything on all that hidework. "I've been up once to trade, but not since." One simply doesn't ask dragonriers to ferry one about if one has no rank to add emphasis to the urgency. They're not moving barges for all to use at will, after all.

R'ku munches a bit more on his meat wrap, pausing only to take a sip of a tall glass of some sort of chilled juice he also has arrayed in front of him. "Mm - a lot of people come here to trade," he notes wryly, quirking a lopsided grin, "Where you from originally?" Because he might as well be somewhat nosy - it's an excuse to drag his attention away from hidework for a bit. "You're lucky to have missed the sandstorm a candlemark or so ago," he adds thoughtfully. Cava, still mostly asleep on R'ku's shoulder, lifts her golden head briefly, eyes Ibrahim thoughtfully, and then promptly goes back to snoozing.

Ibrahim begins to dig in to his own meal, a tasty salad heaped high with various greens and strips of wherry, the spices a delicate warmth that encourages the appetite. "Were you one of them?" He asks R'ku curiously, pausing in his munching and clearing his mouth. "I'm from Southern, originally. Of the groups who are not of the Weyr. Or 'wildlings' as they like to call us." He rolls his eyes a little bit at that moniker. Perhaps the name is not as cute as some think it is."Oh, yes, K'par mentioned that… those happen a lot?"

R'ku tilts his hand from side to side in a 'so-so' gesture as he leans back in his seat, eyes going to watch the bustle of the crowd, "Eh. Sort of. I was born into the Bazaar, so it's not like I came here of my own choice. I'm originally from the Tlatoani. Was a bartender at the Cantina." He gives a quick grin that he flashes in Ibrahim's direction, "It's a bit of a benefit and a curse to have Impressed at Igen. I'm close to where I grew up .. but that also means I have to deal with my parents still trying to meddle." He idly scratches at his chin, fingers rasping against a slight growth of stubble, "Mmm. Been to Southern once or twice for business. Bit too … " He pauses, brow furrowed as he tries to come up with something, " … moist … for my liking." The mention of the sandstorms again has him bobbing his head, "Quite a bit. I'm part of the wing that has to learn how best to fly in them if a Threadfall happens during one." He grins again, "Bit of an adventure, for sure." A slight rattling noise suddenly punctuates the conversation - did something in that clay pot just move?

"Ah, parents. They never give up." Ibrahim is all sympathy for such things; his own have yet to acknowledge his adulthood, and he's been independent for several Turns now. "The Tlatoani? Are they similar to the Zingari?" That being the only trading group he's had congress with in his brief time here. And hen there's a snort of a laugh as R'ku describes Southern as 'moist'. "That's an apt descriptor, actually. The place does have a lot of moisture. Where Igen is like to dry a man out if he doesn't carefully keep himself properly hydrated. Fortunately, Ibrahim has no need to venture from the Bazaar proper, nor spend much time in the desert itself, as curious as he is about such a large stetch of sand. "Oh? Do tell. How do you do that?" And now he's rabidly curious, for this is a new idea to him, that riders survey the weather and things of that nature

R'ku plucks a piece of fruit from a side plate on the table and pops it into his mouth as he considers the question, "Mmm. Zingari are more entertainers. Dancers, I suppose. Tlatoani are known for .. well … " He makse a face, unsure how exactly to indicate what they really are known for without scaring this man off, " … trading and business dealings, I suppose. My parents own a spice stall in the Bazaar." He brightens when Ibrahim seems to show interest in the whole weather patterning things. Brushing his hands clean on a cloth napkin, he picks up one of the various hides scattered on the table and shows the man the strange zigzaggy patterns on it indicating the weather, "Weather is very important in Threadfall - wind, humidity, precipitation … it can all affect how the Thread actually falls. Not to mention visibility of the riders themselves. Being prepared allows for fewer serious injuries or deaths. We had a giant threadfall during a sandstorm a turn or so back that directly sort of led to the creation of Sirocco Wing." Then he realizes he's probably boring this man with weather talk and he snorts a laugh, "Bit boring to outsiders, though, I imagine." He flops the hide back onto the pile and then, in the middle of reaching for his juice, he notices the clay pot rattle again. "Shard it all! Not now." Abandoning his reach for the juice, he carefully brushes away sand to reveal a quivering fire lizard egg nestled within the sand. "Shard. It. All." he punctuates the words, eyes scanning the still sparse crowd for someone that doesn't seem to be coming.

Ibrahim is fortunately difficult to scare, and possibly pretty good at reading between the lines. He cants his head to one side, and smils wryly. "Business deals of many stripes, are they?" And then he shakes his head at his own prodding. "Possibly not of the type one discusses in an open arena. I shan't pry." Even if he clearly would like to! He leans in when R'ku begins drawing out a demonstration of it all, scratching at his own stubbly skin as he absorbs the new information. "Well.. it makes sense to actually have that information to hand. It's why the Seacraft works so closely with the Dolphincraft, you know. The dolphins can warn us of strange weather patterns that happen over the sea. It affects the water, helps us discern where a hurricane might be brewig. And no — I'm more than mildly interested in how the Weyrs work; not much exposure until I went to the Southern Weyr itself, for trading and whatnot. Knowing more helps foster better relations, I think." He smirks, then, remembering. "Counteracts various ignorant and vicious rumors when one is armed with the truth of one's own eyes." He eyes the rattling pot, now, settling back with his tea to look on in amusement. "Wasn't supposed to happen now, was it? Especially if that person you were meeting expected a gift."

R'ku merely makes a grimace in response to his family's potentially shady dealings - he may not agree with the goings on, but they happen and they're his family, after all. Most of his panicked attention is on the twitching egg in the pot - the one that he really does not want to impress and is so obviously meant for someone else. "Yeah, well," he manages with a snort of a laugh, "Looks like he's going to have to wait and get an egg from Cava's next clutch. Because I don't think he's going to make it from the looks of things." Cava, at that point, seems to rouse enough to realize what's happening. Perking up with a bubbly trill, she settles up in a sitting position on R'ku's shoulder and starts a low humming noise to greet the new arrival. R'ku gives one last desperate scan of the crowd before huffing an annoyed breath, "Shard it all. I meant it as a good faith sort of gift to the Master Starcrafter. He probably got sidetracked even longer doing some calculations after the sandstorm - I knew I should have just shoved the egg at him last I saw him, though I didn't think it'd be this close to hatching." As a tiny crack forms on the shell, R'ku suddenly pushes the pot towards Ibrahim, "Here - you impress the thing. I'd rather it not go wild or have some pickpocket claim it last minute. And I already have a new 'lizard from a few months back. I cannot handle another one right now."

Cue the chorus! Ibrahim's bunch wink in to take up various perches, adding their voices to Cava's as that worthy palms his face in order to quell his laughter. Such a fuss they make! "It's not an exact science, is it, like some would believe." The hatching of an egg, not the Master Starcrafter's trade. "Mmm.. if he's anything like my former Captain, he is all craft and forgets the world does not turn on his craft's workings." But wait, the new baby is being shoved at him! Oh dear! Surprised, his first reaction is to wrap his long fingers around the pot, even as he stares at R'ku. Certainly, an additional lizard is an asset out in the wilds of Southern, but the man's used to not having them appear so fortuitously. "I.. um. Thanks." What else is he to do? Plainly R'ku doesn't want it, and has the right of not having some pickpocket take it. It's just put him at a loss, but too late! The hatching continues apace, and soon, Ibrahim is the owner of a new baby firelizard voraciously finishing off his lunch, her wet golden hide gleaming in the sun.

Melted Chocolate Egg shatters into a thousand fragments, leaving its occupant out in the open.

Don't Care How, I want It Now Gold Hatchling

Slightly chubby and with rounded curves, this gold fire lizard will always have the dimpled and fresh appearance of youth. Pure gold, like molten metal, makes up her color, the hue reminiscent of fancy jewelry. Platinum, striated with hints of white-gold, colors her expansive wingsails, the rich shades adding to her luxurious coloration. Her eyes are large and expressive, a feature she uses to her advantage to get her way no matter what. There's a feral poise hiding behind her beautiful exterior, though, hinting at the wrathful monster that will be unleashed should her every whim not be catered to in a timely manner.

Don't Care How, I want It Now Gold Hatchling's cries turn joyous, and she turns towards Ibrahim, creeling piteously.

R'ku huffs out a breath of relief as he seems to pass over the egg pot just in time. Then there's another inhalation of breath at the glimmer of gold from the resulting chatchling, the bronzerider's eyes bugging out slightly in surprise, "Well - glad I passed it over to yu, then. One gold is bad enough. And my weyrmate has one, as well. That would have been 3 egg-making things in my weyr, scoping out my helmet to lay eggs in." He can't help but give a bark of a laugh, "Not to mention I'd probably seem greedy to have two golds." He flashes a quick grin, leaning back in his chair, "Hopefully the Master Starcrafter won't be too upset that he missed out on a gold. Though I'm sure he'll just be full of information he learned after the sandstorm." Relaxing, he starts to finish up the last of his meal, waving one free hand at the new hatchling, "Well - you got one souvenir from this trip to Igen, at least."

Ibrahim isn't laughing at the description R'ku gives — he's too busy saving his fingers from greedy baby lizard teeth. "Hey, you.. those fingers are mine and not edible." Squack! Snatch! Food gone. Ibrahim rolls his eyes skyward in a search for patience. He can see he will need it; the arrognce is strong with this one. "This… I never expected." Even were he to get ahold of another firelizard, it wouldn't likely be golden. "Wow. Do they really do that? I've only boys, you understand." Who are all very, very happy to see the new female added to their midst. They lean in, crooning, to watch her stuff her belly with varying degrees of puffed-up pride and encouragement. "Pff. Don't folk have better things to worry about?" The question doesn't need an answer, really; he knows how people are. "Don't worry, I'll get half a dozen inquiries about what I did to get this little one, and none will believe it was chance." He shrugs, and finding Veruca is satisfied and sleepy, will tuck her into his shirt, where she begins snoring gently, an odd lump beneath the smooth contours of the fabric. "Her'es hoping. I wouldn't like to get you in trouble over this."

R'ku polishes off the last of his meat wrap and the rest of the pieces of fruit with gusto - maybe he's worried the little hatchling may want to eat /his/ lunch as well. Or perhaps he's waited long enough for the Master Starcrafter. "Well. Mine does," he manages once he no longer has a mouth full of food, one hand motion to the gold on his shoulder that has gone back to napping, "I swear she loves finding the most awkward place to lay her eggs. She's not the brightest gold in the bunch, but she's very laidback." He rubs a finger on the top of Cava's head, eliciting a tiny rumble of happiness from the little gold. R'ku gives Ibrahim's new acquisition a look and a sympathetic wince, "Hopefully that's just new hatchling attitude … otherwise that one may not have taken much after her dam." He lifts his glass of juice in a half-toast, grinning, "And you don't have to tell anyone the truth about how you got her. Make up some sort of daring rescue and chase through the back-alleys of the Bazaar, fighting off pickpockets for the prize of the egg! Might be fun." Draining the last of is juice, he sets the empty glass down and rises to his feet, leaning forward to start to shuffle his hidework together, "Well - I think it's high time I find the Master Starcrafter to be sur he didn't get lost in the sandstorm for real. And I need to get back to work. It was nice meeting you, though."

Ibrahim chortles as he gathers up the rest of his group, preparing to find himself a second meal somewhere — that he hopefully won't have to fight to keep — and ofers R'ku a salute. "Hmm. Derring-do will probably get me laid faster, that much is true." Is he kidding about that? He might be; he might not be. What else is a newly single man to do except scheme to get laid? Whatever, Ibrahim will find himsef wandering the Bazaar again after wishing R'ku good luck with his meeting, making trades, getting supplies, and gathering yet more informaton about the various wonders of Igen.

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