Applaud imitation, hiss reality (Sayis)

[rii]

Hot.

Kostya stuck out his tongue as he let his pale eyes sweep over the crowd. How could these people stand to be out and about in all this heat – with such smiles on their faces. He himself had resorted to a thin white shirt that was loose enough to accommodate the occasional salt-filled breeze coming in off the ocean. Although northern, Kostya had enough sense to at least wear a pair of brown shorts and sandals. A single black cord around his neck with a simple sentimental silver ring as the pendant.

Briefly mirroring one of the smiles passing by him, Kostya set out through the gather. Stepping around people, and lightly nudging others aside, the young man picked his way around until his eyes fell on a familiar shape. Even from behind it was unmistakable – or maybe it was just the hat. A little of column A, a little of column B.

"It strikes me as familiar," He mused to his taller companion. From behind an arm snaked around the other's slender waist, but it served as merely a distraction as he plucked the hat clean off, flipped it around and set it on his own head. Leaning heavily on Marsayis, Kostya cast his gaze around at the settings. "Shipwrecked. The wonderful memories just keep coming back. Except this time I'm dry. I ask myself, what is appealing about dressing up a gather to resemble a horrific event that likely left a dozen or more drowned. Is it a celebration of the free wares that wash ashore, or joy that whoever the voyagers were didn't make it to these peaceful little abodes?"

[glamourie]

Too hot. Too hot. Too hot. Why did it have to be so hot? It was a wonder that he was present at all and really, the only thing that kept Marsayis from reclining somewhere in the shade dousing himself in water was the fact that he couldn’t find appropriate shade to lounge in – why, why? He’d settled for tying his hair out of his face, although it was really too short to efficiently tie back, and he’d pushed most of it under his hat to keep from sweating too much. Grouchy was Marsayis, evidenced by the fact that he was half-lounging and totally ignoring everyone. The heat was just one of many reasons for his foul mood, not the least of which was the obnoxious creature dangling from the back of his pants. There was a blanched, somewhat pale looking salamandyr with distinctly cracking hide along his back, dangling as if he owned Marsayis. Which, to the salamandyr, he did. He was asleep, or his complaints about his itching hide would probably have been heard. (Marsayis did not yet know how to deal with that and even if he did he probably would not have responded well to the complaining – he hadn’t wanted a pet in the first place.)

The voice drew his attention and Marsayis turned his head before Calamari awoke to complain for both of the males to hear:

Itches. Itches. Hurts. Itches. Stealing ugly not good. Fat. Faaaaat. Itches.

He was still very much a hatchling, as evidenced by his complaining, but Marsayis did not even acknowledge him as present. His gaze lingered on Kostya’s face, dark blue eyes narrowing into slight slits as he regarded the younger male’s words with a very slight shrug. He’d noticed the similarities too, found them quite bothersome, but it wasn’t in his nature to give voice to those sorts of thoughts to very many people. As it was, he was busily wondering how he could make off with half the weapon stall, and whether or not it would get him thrown out on his rump if he were to strip naked and spend the entire day lounging in the beach partially submerged. Anything would be better than the ridiculous heat that was dominating the Hold. Anything.

“What would you like it to be?” he inquired curiously before reaching over to remove his hat from his friend’s head. He placed it back on his own, careful to scoop his hair under it as much as possible, and rubbed his forehead on his arm. It was amazing that he was bothering to wear as much clothing as he was. Considering that Marsayis wasn’t exactly modest, anyway. He’d settled for a pair of long pants and a sleeveless tunic, both in shades lighter than he’d ever wear before, but he was miserably uncomfortable. And the drink stalls were his favorite thing ever. “I expect it’s joy at the prospect of spending a great deal of marks on nothingness that they’ll throw away within a few sevendays. Also: It’s hot.” Because clearly, Kostya hadn’t noticed that. Riiight. “Think they’d throw me out if I decided to make a resident of myself in the tide?”

[rii]

What the hell was – Kostya's attention jerked to the side as if hearing a strange voice. He did, but it was in his head and sounded oddly close. Probably just a passing rider with an annoying mini lizard speaking. Kostya wrinkled his nose, paying no more mind to the voice than he did to the feeling of the hat being removed. His hair too short (cut that way because of the heat) to be disturbed by the motion.

"They could do a Bitra theme." The smile spread across his lips as he met the darker blues. Marsayis's mood didn't escape Kostya's notice, so the play at humor was to be expected. "Scantily clad women that you could pay a little to oh, fan you with ferns. Servitutde, really, but they could give it a southern twist. You know, willingly... which raises the question why you haven't woo'd some southern thing or two into serving a cooled drink and shading your from the sun."

Always playful, was Kostya, and he continued to smile as he moved around to lounge in the empty space next to his friend. "Hot." He agreed on the single word with a nod, chuckling lightly as he considered the question. "I don't think you are the first to want to cool off, so no – even if you are thinking of stripping down." He knew well enough his friend's level of modesty was an all time.. zero.

"Instead I think a few might just join you," His words were more distant as his eyes followed the various passerbys. As a hairy, sweating bloke walked by, Kostya brows raised as shot an amused look at his companion. "And not all of them welcomed guests. Come." He nudged the side of Marsayis's leg before rising from the seat. "Let's get something to drink."

And clearly he meant free drinks. Paying was over-rated. Why waste the marks when there were betters means of obtaining what one desired? Marsayis had been ever so good at getting things for free.. while Kostya tended to just take what he wanted.

[glamourie]

Overheated. Hurts. Please fix. Huuuurts. Disgruntled, Calamari flared his frill, the blindingly bright color impossible to miss (provided someone was looking in his direction, in any case), and he climbed further up his mindmate’s backside. Fiiix. Stupidling. Fiiiix. The latter being, of course, directed only to His; no one else was allowed to know that he was unhappy with his chosen one. But he was. He hurt all over, it itched so bad he felt like he was dying and he’d noticed (even if the tall one hadn’t) that His was itching uncomfortably because of it. Fix both of their problems, he needed to, yes yes. Please fix. Fiiix. Ignore stupid. Fiiiix. Stupidlingmine. Fiiiix.

The salamandyr was ignored (still) as Marsayis turned to be facing Kostya. He did not notice as his arm moved to scratch the opposing elbow insistently; the spot had already gone red and patchy in response to his constant abuse of it and one might have thought he had a bug bite, from the way that he was acting. He didn’t. His head cocked to the side at the playful remark and Marsayis shrugged one shoulder in response; he was obviously highly amused. Most of the Southern women seemed unappealing to him though. Bratty, they were, or simply unintelligent. He didn’t have much use for people who he deemed inferior to him – and with the disgusting heat, the last thing he wanted was any kind of physical contact, which really was the only use for ditzy, brainless women. Vapid wastes of flesh. The taller male twitched at the thought, and forcefully kept himself in check. No, no, no.

“I don’t like to be touched when I’m overheated. Or really be near people.” He actually became highly irritable, and it was only the fact that he was friends with Kostya that he wasn’t bitching. He really was not in a good mood and he felt like he was dying. “These Southerners are worse wastes of flesh than Northerners, and I don’t know about you, but I find that quite appalling.” He lifted one hand to rub his eyes, the distinctly displeased look on his face making it clear that he was not in the best of spirits. He wanted more than anything to just… yes, lounge somewhere wet. Why had he even come to the Gather? Oh, right, he’d been hoping to make coin. Hard to do that when he felt like he was going to pass out. Maybe people would applaud that. Ugh.

The light nudge drew him out of his silent wallowing and Marsayis lifted his head before shrugging and ambling after Kostya. He was being a touch more vocal about his negative opinions than usual – significantly less playful – but he hated the heat so much that it was a wonder that he wasn’t asleep all day, every day. He handled cold weather much better and preferred to be cold, if he had to be one or the other. But really, why couldn’t he live somewhere with nicely moderate temperatures? Really?

“You are entirely too chipper for this inferno of heat. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you like this weather. You cannot possibly be that mad…”

[rii]

Pity, Kostya lips twitched in a wry smile. It seemed his friend was in no mood to play games with a few heads of the southern wherries. A shame really. They'd never see these people again, and messing with the people of the weyr didn't hold the same appeal when reflecting that they had to live with those particular faces.

"A tool, either crude and elegant in design, still serves a use when used properly." He hummed cheerfully in contrast to his friend's dark demeanor. He paused in step until Marsayis was walking next to him before continuing the short walk toward the drink stall. Grin broadening, Kostya shot his companion a sly look. Yes, he was a tad too happy, wasn't he? The expression alone created suspicion of what he had been doing before finding Marsayis to put him in such a mood. "The heat does tend to make people go mad after a while. So very, very mad.."

Almost purring, Kostya reached over in attempt to brush away the clinging brown nuisance he had only now spotted. "One of those mandyr things is using you for a steed." That must have been voice he heard. The mental aspect of it made it difficult to ignore like any other chatterbox. The redness of arm too, was noticed and Kostya briefly thought it sunburned skin – if not for the distinct red track of fingers suggesting otherwise.

"Itches, itches.. " He found himself repeated the salamandyrs earlier words. A brow rose and he turned the inquiring look up to Marsayis's face.

[glamourie]

“It claims I belong to it. I don’t know. And yes, I know, his itching is spreading over onto me. I don’t know how to fix it, and I’m hoping if I ignore it enough, it’ll get the message that I don’t like it and go away.”

Not steed. Stupid. Mine’s. Not love. Itches both. Fix, servant.

Marsayis turned his gaze to the salamandyr as the brown spoke and he gently pried it off his person. The response was instant – the dull, cracking brown curling around his hand irritably to snap at Kostya, his frill flaring. He’d decided instantly that he didn’t like this one who had more of His’s affections than him and Calamari decided to express it by spitting, feline-like, in the direction of the other male. He tightened his long, sinuous tail around the candidate’s wrist and nibbled the end of his fingers. The touch was actually quite loving, if definitely rough, and Marsayis’s mind was steadily bombarded with a stream of critical comments; the brown salamandyr clearly did not approve of His’s choice of companions and thought he could do better, so he ought to listen to him on who to hang around, see, he was good at it –

The candidate lifted his free hand to rub his temple, shading his eyes. Obnoxious creature. He couldn’t deny that the little monster liked him – but it was annoying just the same. He hadn’t wanted a pet. He didn’t even know where it came from. He’d thought the talking worm things only came from the bigger talking worm things, the gold ones, so having one latch onto him in his sleep was uncomfortable. He’d named it Calamari after it tried to eat his calamari. Pain in the backside.

“You’re way too happy, like I said. Whose life did you destroy?” he inquired, dropping his hand to his side and thus hanging Calamari upside down. The salamandyr did not protest. He hadn’t expected him to though. Marsayis squinted and looked toward the drink stalls before looking back at his friend curiously. If he didn’t know any better, he’d have thought Kostya was getting a maniacal glee out of everyone’s discomfort. He probably was. Marsayis normally would have too but – it was just too hot. Too hot to get any pleasure from the Hold. “I think I’ve come to the conclusion that the reason this heat bothers me so much is that it makes me tired and I hate sleeping.” He did, too. Sleeping meant being vulnerable, yes, but it also meant dreams, which he had vivid ones of. He didn’t want dreams. He didn’t want to know what was floating around the back of his mind when he wasn’t careful. It never ended well.

[rii]

"Oh he's a stud," Kostya retorted in a playfully argumentative tone, out of mere habit, at the salamandyr's 'not steed' comment. Pale blues were narrowed on the brown creature, features began to shift to something decidedly malicious as he scrutinized the pest. Skewered on a reed, roasted over a flame, how would it taste – likely all crunch. Back to smiling, Kostya's eyes briefly swept over the redness on his friend's arm before darting toward the stalls.

He had seen enough of the little creatures around the weyr (and honestly they worked as convenient conversation pieces to break the ice). There would be no ridding Marsayis of the pest. Hm. Kostya dug into his pockets to pick out the few marks he currently carried. "No ones, yet." He finally admitted while counting out a couple marks and holding them out to Marsayis. His degree of cheer had more to do with balancing out the irritation practically wafting off his friend. Match one extreme with the opposite – cue explosive results.

"Sorry," He voiced, still clearly amused by one thing or another. "Can't help it. Everyone's putting on these smiles, I had to join in to try and figure out what's so great. Still mystifies me." He insistently waved the marks at Marsayis while rocking toe to heel. With a toss of head he gestured to the drink stall. "While you do that, I'm going to find a solution to your itchy, itchy friend."

Eyes narrowed, obviously up to no good with his plans – but they were indeed to smooth Marsayis's annoyance.. just causing someone else an irritation in the process. It was balance. Very fair, if you asked him – and ignored the cheshire smile he was likely to be giving. "Then maybe I will regal you with tales at how cool the interior of the lord holder's stone estate is.. got a nice breeze that flows through it from the ocean." A wink. "Real nice design to it."

[glamourie]

“Yet,” Marsayis echoed absently, though he followed Kostya’s movements just the same. Whether it was out of habit – or genuine loyalty – he didn’t know. Of the people at Selenitas and Southern, the only one he remotely trusted was Kostya, for better or worse. He didn’t particularly like spending Gathers alone, either, so the candidate was doing his best to stay with people. That made Kostya the most appealing person there, for better or worse. (Although in his defense, he probably would’ve toddled after Kostya anyway – he actually liked the other boy, even if he was not exactly nice about expressing it; Marsayis didn’t show his fondness for others very often.) His mind raced with what the younger male said – everyone putting on smiles. He saw a lot of them, yes, but an equal amount of grumbling about the heat… but he supposed it was possible that he was superimposing his misery onto others. He did tend to see what he wanted to see more often than he cared to admit.

Finding a solution to the itching, grumbling, squirming lizard, hm?

Turning a glance down to Calamari, he crinkled his nose. “See, now he pities you. Obnoxious thing.” He did look horribly sick, though only Marsayis really knew that – or so he thought. He’d seen how Calamari looked before he started complaining of the itching. Not the most handsome of the little creatures, but he’d looked better. Part of him almost pitied the creature but then he complained and Marsayis’s tolerance evaporated in a fit of irritation. He wanted more than anything to just… fling the salamandyr and let him go flying. But any time he got too upset with Calamari, he found himself wanting to cry. He didn’t because Marsayis was broken – he couldn’t feel that level of negativity, he just turned off and stopped feeling entirely, but… he recognized the signs anyway. It was quite odd.

Not like ugly, Calamari complained before whining with a low, piteous squeak, Itches, mine. Itches.

Grumbling, Marsayis turned back to Kostya as he spoke and then raised both of his eyebrows. The look on his face was close to priceless – quite surprised, he was. Not that it was cool in the Lord Holder’s rooms, no – more that Kostya had tried to get there and, evidently, succeeded? “You said you hadn’t killed anyone,” he commented dryly; he didn’t know that he believed his friend managed to reach the Lord Holder’s rooms without murder. That was too much for his tender little ego to handle. Especially since he hadn’t thought of it first. Tch. “Also, Calamari has apparently decided your name is Ugly. I don’t know where he learned the word though… Do they just come out knowing things? Maybe he eavesdrops.” Or plucks thoughts from his mind. Hmm.