Spoiled Rotten [Weaver's Stall]

[Rowana]

G'tor strolled down the rows of stalls. It was good to be here. A gather was just what they all needed to cheer them up and he was glad so many riders had been able to make it. Ruskeath had almost argued against him going, but G'tor had been adamant. He was tired of being stuck in either his weyr or the infirmary. He was going to this Gather and that was that.

Tor? Are you well? Rolled his eyes, earning a confused look from a passing holder. Smiling and waving apoligetically, G'tor answered a little impatiently. I'm fine, Rusk. I promise I won't get into any fights or do any wild dancing. Relax. I'm not made of glass. The brown rumbled moodily. [color=442200[/color]Fine.[/color] G'tor ran a hand through his hair and sighed. Don't be grumpy. I'll be back soon. He really had to find a way to stop Ruskeath from worrying so much. It wasn't doing much for the brown's mood lately.

G'tor paused as he passed a weaver's stall. An idea came do him. Backing up, he leaned down to examine a display of pillows. Some were plain, but others were brightly colored and patterned. He touched one. They were pretty soft too. He had promised Star a present after saving them. Maybe she'd like a bed of her own.

Reaching into his shirt, he fished around until he found the salamandyr. Star had been sleeping and was none too please about being woken up. G'tor held her close to the pillows. "What do you think?" Star examined one and then tried to bite it. "No!" G'tor pulled her away. Thankfully, it didn't look like she'd damaged it. "You don't eat it! You sleep on it! You know, sleep. You're second favorite thing." Smiling in amusement, he glanced up at the stall owner. "Sorry about her. I should have guessed she would do that."

[Avu]

The girl running the Weaver’s Stall was perhaps eighteen Turns of age, and from the blue eyes that she turned on G’tor as the brownrider made his way through the Gather, and the flick of her long, unruly blonde hair, it was probably not inaccurate to assume that she hailed from Blossom Hold – because Ayanrai did. The young woman leaned over the stall hopefully towards the Rider, eyes scanning his knots automatically, and she nearly called out to him. Her father, Yatan, would be so displeased if she didn’t manage to sell anything, after all, and she didn’t want to disappoint him; Ayanrai adored her father. Her younger brother, Ranyal, who was around eight Turns, crinkled his nose at Ayanrai, hidden as he leaned against the stall’s supports, seated flat on his bottom. Ayanrai nudged him lightly with her foot, one eyebrow quirking at him –

AAH. Rider! Ayanrai straightened instinctively, eyes widening hopefully as G’tor examined their supply of pillows; she cocked her head, smiling at him as she touched the Weaver’s knots on her shoulder. But…wait, what was he doing…fishing around in his shi…Ayanrai literally stumbled backwards a step, eyes widening in clear shock at the sight of Star, watching dumbfounded as the Rider nearly placed her on the nearest pillow – and she tried to eat it. Ayanrai blinked, and then kicked Ranyal again, and the eight-Turn-old boy dragged himself to his feet – and literally shrieked in surprise at the sight of Star, backpedaling in surprise before his curiosity overcame him and the boy dropped his chin to the table, scrunching up his nose curiously before Ayanrai could assure G’tor that it was just fine.

“It’s not a – “ she began.
“What’s that? It’s not a firelizard; they don’t come in white – what is it?”
Ayanrai rolled her eyes at her brother, interjecting deftly, “It’s not a problem, brownrider – er, Wingsecond. Is she – he hungry?”

Ooh, it was so cute – at least, once you got over the…oddness of it, it was. Ranyal’s question made him sound ridiculously dense, Ayanrai thought, but it wasn’t a bad one; she didn’t know either. Unless it was one of those Salamandyrs that her mother, who was part of the Relief Caravan, had written home about, but she hadn’t mentioned any nice ones or white ones, and this one was pretty nice and white.

“Ah…um…right, were you interested in a pillow?” she added, belatedly, pointing at the pillows in question and neatly rearranging the price sign on the foremost one.

[Rowana]

G'tor's eyes widened and he jerked back slightly as the poor boy screamed. Oh dear, he hadn't meant to frighten them so badly. Maybe he have said something before letter Star out. At least it didn't last long. Star was looking at the boy now, cocking her head curiously. Why had he made such a disagreeable noise? G'tor looked at her firmly. Don't bite him. Star huffed. She wasn't some silly green.

G'tor turned to the girl and smile. "Just G'tor is fine," he told her. He had never been one to stand for ranks and titles, especially now that he had one. "And this is Star. She's always hungry," he said with a shrug and a chuckle. "And no, she's not a fire lizard. She's a salamandyr." Since it looked like Star wasn't going to eat anything random at the moment, G'tor returned his attention to the pillows. He brushed his had over one with a blue and green pattern that reminded him of the sea. It happened to be the same one Star had tried to eat. "I was thinking of getting a one for Star," he mused aloud.

[Avu]

Ooh…Ranyal had startled the brownrider. He probably thought they were idiots, Ayanrai thought unhappily, tucking her hair behind one ear and checking the price of the decorative pillows discreetly just to make sure she had it right. She did – two and one-eighths marks for one of them. She’d sewed some of them herself – and her father’s pride in her had made Ayanrai want to preen in her delight – but since the white Salamandyr had tried to eat her favorite one that she’d made, she wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be a compliment or not…just purring would have been fine, after all, right? Bobbing up and down on her feet uncertainly, the apprentice Weaver cocked her head down at Star, flicking a brief smile towards the adorable little thing.

Ranyal, on the other hand, had no problems staring at Star even as G’tor spoke; his dark brown eyes, taking after his father as opposed to his Blossom Hold mother, flicked deftly up at the brownrider before they returned to Star, fingers clutching at the counter as he situated his chin there firmly as well. He felt his older sister’s surprise at being asked to call the brownrider by his name; Ranyal glanced up at G’tor and then at Ayanrai – why were they just talking, what did it matter? Could he get one of the little white things…? – as the blonde girl nodded, recovering with noticeable poise; she bowed her head as she interlaced her fingers behind her back, but she didn’t speak as G’tor went on – her gaze darted curiously at Star.

“A Salamandyr?” Ranyal burst out eagerly. “My Mom’s part of the Relief Caravan, she wrote to us about ‘em – can I have one, you think she ca – ?”

“She’s cute, Wingse – sorry, G’tor,” Ayanrai interjected again, flicking a warning glance towards Ranyal. He’d put off all prospective buyers with his insensitive chatter! But she was very interested in Star, too. “Do you think she’d let me feed her?” she asked tentatively, even as she glanced sideways at him to see which pillow he was touching. “That one’s one of the softest – I guess she’d be using it as a bed?” Even as she spoke, Ayanrai was breaking a meatroll in half. One half was handed to Ranyal, who promptly jammed the succulent roll into his mouth, and Ayanrai offered the other half to Star, crouching to see her. “It’s two and one-eighth marks,” she added absently, and then scrunched her own nose. “That’s only if you don’t want to haggle, though.” Ayanrai half-hoped the brownrider would haggle; it was fun…but really, she shouldn’t complain if he didn’t…

“Let me feed him, ‘rai,” Ranyal begged, bouncing up and down as he glanced at G’tor, completely shameless. “Does she clutch like a queen, ‘tor?”

[Rowana]

G'tor chuckled as Star snatched a piece off the role and munched greedily. "I think that's a 'yes,'" he said with a smile. "She'll eat just about anything from anyone." Star took another big bite, sending a wave of happiness to all three. These two new humans were good. They gave her food. "Don't worry," G'tor went on. "She won't bite fingers." He had cured her of that vice long ago.

He looked at Ranyal sadly. "I'd love to give you one," he admitted. "But Star doesn't clutch. She doesn't even mate like greens do." He was actually quite grateful for that. He was one of the few salamandyr owners who did not have to deal with flightlust from the tiny creatures. He only had to worry about it from Ruskeath, who hadn't been very interesting in chases since the attack.

He picked up the blue pillow thoughtfully. It was pretty and Star had liked it, if biting counted as liking. He could afford to pay for it outright, but where was the fun in that? This was a Gather after all. "How about two marks?" he offered amiably.

[Avu]

Ooh, she was eating it! Ayanrai smiled, eyes brightening in her delight as she gently handed the end of the meatroll over to Ranyal, pushing the boy in front of her. “Don’t move,” she whispered, intently watching Star; the white Salamandyr appeared to be a source of great amusement and awe for the younger boy, for he instantly froze, his entire body motionless save for the slight rising and falling of his chest on inhale and exhale respectively. His eyes were glued admiringly to Star, and the fingers of his left hand, dropped at his leg, twitched wonderingly; he wanted to pet the darling thing…Ayanrai grasped his hand firmly in hers, stifling the instinct, and Ranyal shot her a protesting glance before he nodded at G’tor, and then squirmed free of his sister’s grip, tentatively stretching his forefinger towards the white Salamandyr even as he held the meatroll steady. “Hi,” he commented softly, “Can I – can I pet you, please…? Maybe…?”

His gaze rose momentarily to G’tor as the brownrider spoke, and his eyes sobered slightly. She didn’t even Run…? Oh, a pity – well, no matter; he’d end up at the Weyr someday and he’d Impress a bronze dragon, he would – a big bronze, the biggest on Pern – and then he could maybe get one of the little white pretties – one of the Salamandyrs. Not of this one’s clutch, since G’tor had just said she didn’t, but another one. There had to be a few clutching ones somewhere…! “It’s okay,” Ranyal replied, focusing on Star again. “If I ever get to the Weyr, I can Impress one there, right?” His forefinger quivered slightly, hopefully – wouldn’t the white please let him pet her…? Was she soft, like dragons were supposed to be, too…?

Ayanrai, however, could not repress the slight huff. Two marks? That wasn’t haggling, not really…that was only loosing an eighth of a mark, and really, who cared for an eighth of a mark? But still, the girl flicked her hair deftly out of her eyes, quirking one eyebrow as if disdainful of the offer before she reached out to stroke the pillow, rubbing one finger over the stitches. “I don’t know that’s fair, Wingsecond,” she replied, crinkling her nose thoughtfully. The deliberate use of rank was to imply that he was probably rich; Ayanrai cocked her head, almost flirtatiously, at G’tor. “I mean, look – the stitches are even, and it’s the finest material we have – I think two and one eighths marks is more than fair. And,” she added, “I made it myself – and it took ages.” Which was more or less a very, very dramatic exaggeration, but Ayanrai didn’t mind, or so much as bat an eye; it was haggling!

[Rowana]

G'tor nodded to the boy warmly. "You can pet her. Just be gentle." He rubbed Star's head with a finger to demonstrate. Star continued to munch on the meat roll and paid them all no mind. "And I'm sure you can. When you're older, I bet you'll even impress a dragon."

G'tor turned back to the girl and raised an amused eyebrow. He had never been very good a haggling, and to be honest he was more than willing to pay what she asked. He chuckled. "How can I resist two such crafty salesmen?" He reached into his pouch and pulled out two and an eighth marks. "We'll call it fair, since you did give Star breakfast too."

[Avu]

“She’s great,” Ranyal said, clearly fascinated as he kicked at the dirt with his heel, carefully stroking Star’s back as if afraid the Salamandyr would break into two pieces if he even applied the slightest pressure; it probably tickled more than anything else, though the boy’s round eyes widened in excitement. She was so soft – hide, the Salamandyr had, he decided; hide, like the tanner’s sold, like dragon’s had – though Ranyal had never seen a dragon close up, he had heard that they were soft-skinned, and he could imagine that this little Salamandyr was probably something like it. His father’s fire-lizard had soft hide, anyway, and they were very much like dragons, weren’t they…? “And I will!” he added, gaze flicking up to G’tor for a moment as he beamed at the Wingsecond. “I will – a big bronze,” and, momentarily forgetting Star, Ranyal gestured widely to show exactly how big his bronze would be.

Crinkling his nose, the ‘brat went back to Star after a moment, dropping his chin against the wood of the cart and slowly running a finger down the white’s back again. “And then he ’n catch Millieth, and I’ll be Weyrleader,” he added, clearly very much distracted again. “What’s that?” he added, touching Star’s frill gingerly. “My dada’s firelizard doesn’t have it…”

“Stop it, Ran,” Ayanrai scolded, flicking an apologetic smile at G’tor. “Don’t feel like you need to sate his curiosity; you’d be here for half a Turn and then some.” His acceptance of her price, however, made the girl’s chin lift proudly, and Ayanrai’s smile widened triumphantly; if she though the brownrider was indulging her, she showed no sign of it. Money was money; who was she to complain? “That was Ranyal’s lunch, but it’s okay; he can go hungry,” she stated cheerfully, scooping up the marks and taking the pillow from G’tor to wrap it neatly in brown paper and tie it with a rough string. It was a procedure that she’d become very much accustomed to – keep the wares from getting dirty. Handing it back to G’tor, she nodded at him politely. “Thanks, ‘second; I hope your Salamandyr likes it…Ran, leave her alone,” she added, nudging the boy’s arm.

“Raaaaaaiiiii,” he protested, before he stepped back obediently. “If she’s hungry, can she come back? We can use my dada’s lunch to feed her; I bet he wouldn’t mind, he’s prob’ly too busy to notice anyway.”