Klah and Amusements, Step Right Up!

[ladybug]

A'fyr was broke, and he had been since the beginning of weyrlinghood. He was used to having at least a few spare marks around, so he planned to spend a lot of his Gather time trying to sell things. He wasn't craft certified, so he didn't know how much luck he would have, but it couldn't hurt to try. Maybe he could get Beauty to harass people into buying. The 'mandyr was currently perched on his shoulder, hissing at anyone who passed within a ten foot radius--which meant a constant stream of hissing and angry chattering.

The first question was where to set up. He had to pick a prime location, a spot that would attract customers, but not so close to the regular stalls that people would compare the goods. He shook his head as he passed the toy stall, with their fancy goods and feline mascot. Hopefully at least a few people would be interested in his more homespun items. Kittystupid no good things![/color] Beauty called encouragingly, hissing at the stallkeeper as they passed.

Then A'fyr noticed a small stall apart from the others. A young girl manned it, selling cups of klah. He smiled, recognizing the weyrbrat Kalerary. He walked up to her stall and set his box o' tricks down for a moment. "Mind if I set up next to you?" he asked, mentally warning Beauty not to object to the idea. "Maybe we'll attract more attention with two of us."

[glamourie]

The stall was a remarkably small one. Really, it consisted of three pitchers and a large thermos, as well as a very large selection of cups which were to be watched and reused. The clear glass mugs were all stacked upside down on one side, while each of the pitchers rested one right next to the other. The first was a pale yellow, mostly translucent; it was definitely a fruit juice mixture. Specifically, connoisseurs would notice it had the distinctly tangy scent of sour citron mixed with cool spring water and sugar -- lemonade. The second was an unusually transparent brown-gold shade, obviously red fruit juice. The third was a jug of red-violet liquid, clearly mixed berry juice. The thermos was closed but from the painted wooden sign hanging on the table, it was probably klah. Kalerary had set up the stall shortly after arriving at the Gather with the intention of making enough marks to buy her father a new dirk to replace the one that she had lost when Selenitas was under attack. She just… had no idea how much it would run. So she’d set up her stall (with supplies given to her by R’wign) and was waiting for people to buy.

So far, though, she wasn’t having much luck. Maybe she was just not dressed for the occasion? She thought she looked nice. She wore a pair of black slacks, with buttons up the sides of the legs, and a gray-blue shirt that accented her eyes magnificently. The shirt was embroidered with twining black vines up the right side, and along the hems of the sleeves. Her hair was braided plainly and hung down her back, but pulling it out of her face revealed the long scar that spanned from her forehead to her chin, barely missing her eye. The scar marred her entire face very plainly and part of her feared that was what was chasing everyone from her presence. The mark was very visible. As it was, the Gather had just begun to get started and no one had purchased any of her drinks. They were only 1/36th marks each… not much, she didn’t think, but maybe she was over priced?

Frowning, Kalerary poked her fingers together and squirmed on her stool when -- someone was coming. Her chin jutted upward at the approaching figure and she painted a wide smile on her face. However, as the boy approached, she recognized him as a weyrling - and therefore, unlikely to be a prospective buyer. Slightly deflating, the girl eyed his box of supplies as he set it down and then cocked her head to the side as he asked if he could sit with her. Well… at least she wasn’t scaring everybody off!

“Only if your salamandyr promises not to try and swim in the pitchers. I don’t think I’ll sell much if she does,” she said with a hand pointing toward one of the stools. “Whatcha sellin’? Maybe my papa will buy one. Are you saving to buy something?”

[hseru]

He didn’t need to buy anything, really. One of the perks of being Weyrleader –if you really needed anything, it was usually provided in one way or another. There was no real reason for him to be at the Gather, so, he didn’t bother having one prepared should someone ask. Other than the fact that overseeing the rebuilding was tiring, endless work and a visit to the Hold was just perfect for a bit of a stroll; K’roi was being perfectly anti-leader right about then, and he wasn’t particularly worried what people would think about it.

The day had dawned clear, and after a few hours of paperwork –what supplies they needed food wise, building wise, and people wise made up the majority- he’d asked Gareth to drop him off at the Hold. The bronze didn’t ask why, fully aware of how tired his bonded was, and K’roi simply enjoyed the brisk temperature change -warm to bitter cold to warm again- before they landed in the designated clearing. K’roi dismounted, promised to bring something back for Gareth, and then disappeared into the crowded Gather Square. Almost as if soaking up the atmosphere itself, and the happiness of everyone selling, buying, eating and enjoying the Gather, the bronzerider felt himself growing more relaxed as he walked around. It was almost… almost as if nothing had ever happened. The people attending were caught up in the happiness of the moment, and it did K’roi some good to see that they could still laugh and enjoy such easy frivolity.

There were several youngsters and riders that he recognized, at least by face if not by name scampering in and out of the stall-made byways, and he felt himself smiling. It would be alright to ease out from under the burden of leadership for just a candlemark or two. The Weyr wouldn’t come crashing down around everyone without their mostly unseen Weyrleader being absent. Maybe he could even get a nice drink… the thought had him wavering dangerously towards a drunken night of debauchery, but he quickly let the thought go, instead content with the idea that he could get something here. A nice buzz would be great stress relief. The Hold would handle their own imports and wineries, so the stock should be fairly safe, even without the very good fact that the Hold hadn’t had a single poison related death during the troubled times.

Strolling to the large food stalls, K’roi handed over the marks for two bottles of wine, a bag of mixed candied fruits, and three small bubbly pies without bothering to haggle over prices. He was too grateful for the reprieve to try and hassle the stall owners out of his marks. He instead asked for a glass, and opened a bottle right there, sipping the wine with a smile at the lovely bouquet. The bronzerider was really more of a sweet fruity wine drinker, but the rose was still just sweet enough to be delightful. He tipped an extra 1/32 to have the owners hold his bottle and a half behind the counter until he returned for them. Tucking the bag of candied fruits into his belt, he juggled the pies to a table in one hand while he enjoyed the wine with the other. He made short work of one of the pies, pondering if he was really hungry enough to enjoy the other two while he sedately sipped the Rose.

Finally rising from the table, he carried the two pies and his empty glass back to the food stall to return the glass, then he began to work his way further into the Gather. Almost lost within the mass of larger, more colorful stalls, a small one caught his eye not too long after. Two youngsters were manning the stall, youngsters from the Weyr, he was certain. He recognized them both in a vague way, one more than the other, mainly due to the injury she’d been forced to sustain during the attack. Curious, he got close enough to make out the sign, then grinned. Well, he was a bit thirsty. Might as well. A second thought caught him, and he walked up to the pair, laying the pies on the table. “Good day youngsters. Here, I can’t eat these, so you’re welcome to them. They’re still warm.” Eyeing the table with the look of a buyer, he turned a glance from A’fyr’s carvings to the various drinks, and back up to the pair. “What can I get for 4 marks?”

[ladybug]

"You hear that, Beauty? No swimming for you," A'fyr told the 'mandyr sternly. She grumbled and jumped down from his shoulder, prancing over to the pitchers of klah and daintily sniffing at one before scurrying away, making gagging noises.Nasty stupid nonono![/color] A'fyr rolled his eyes. "She doesn't like the taste, anyway," he relayed to Kalerary.

Pulling a blanket out of the box, he began laying his wares out for display. "I have simple carvings, just like at the woodcrafter stall, but for half the price. Plus salamandyr carvings, which they don't have. I also have wooden yo-yos, rubber band guns, and spinning buttons--I don't think they had those at the toy stall." As he spoke he was arranging these goods on the blanket while Beauty sprawled out on one end, guarding the items imperiously. It looked like they had a mascot for their stall too. Hopefully she wouldn't chase the customers away.

He overturned the box and used it as a seat. "I'm not saving for anything specific, really. Maybe a flitt egg, but I'm not sure I'll make that much." Unlike many 'mandyrs, Beauty seemed to tolerate flitts, so he might be able to Impress one. They were pricey, though. "What about you?"

Then he looked up and saw a man coming towards the stall. "A customer!" He exclaimed, grinning. As the man neared, A'fyr realized it was none other than K'roi, the Weyrleader. A'fyr found himself growing a little self-conscious about dealing with such an important figure, but then he bolstered his confidence and reminded himself that he was a salesman now, not just a weyrling. "Well, sir, everything I have is less than 2 marks. I have carvings and wooden toys. See anything you like?"

[glamourie]

Well, good because Kalerary didn’t want to have to fish a salamandyr out of her pitchers. Harumph. It would be very hard to explain to customers. (Truthfully, Kalerary’s experiences with salamandyrs were not good; she didn’t like them, plain and simple.) Cocking her head to the side, Kale peered at the box before inclining her head up to look at the boy. One of the yoyos was gently picked up and turned in her fingers, as though she was honestly considering the toy. As far as ‘playing’ went, Kalerary wasn’t normal - by any stretch of the imagination. She didn’t do the imaginative playing most children her age did. Quite the contrary, Kalerary was remarkably serious. She spent her free time in the infirmary being taught the purposes of different herbs and remedies -- because Kalerary wanted to be a healer. R’wign was teaching her and she’d gotten very good at slathering numbweed onto wounds in the short time she’d been at Selenitas. Toys weren’t something she was much versed in. It wasn’t like Fort had an abundance of them.

“They’re cute,” Kale informed the boy with a slight nod. She put the yoyo down gingerly before turning to look at her pitchers. “I’m saving up to buy my papa a replacement dirk. I lost his when---” She bowed her head slightly, then finished with, “Well, I just lost it and I should replace it ‘cause it wasn’t mine to lose. I’ve got a few marks toward my cause but he had a really nice one, custom-made, and I’m hoping to get a similar one from the Smithcrafter. I don’t even know how much something like that will cost me though.” Glancing from the salamandyr to the boy and back again, she clicked her tongue. “Your ‘mandyr is okay with flitters? I thought all salamandyrs tried to eat ‘em…?”

The boy was prevented from having to answer by the approach of a… man. Grown-up. Kalerary froze slightly in recognition. Bronze rider. She was very uncomfortable around bronze riders - run off from the north. Despite her father being one, she still found them very intimidating figures, especially after she’d had her face sliced open by one from Benden. He was dead, she was told, but she still saw him in her nightmares… and every time she closed her eyes, if she wasn’t careful. But this wasn’t the scary man from the darkness in her mind. He was from Selenitas and was probably not dangerous. At least, she hoped he wasn’t, though Kalerary could barely keep herself from averting her eyes. Fortunately for her, her stallmate seemed to have a lot more courage at talking to someone in an important position than she did; she brushed her fingers together and tried to use him as an example.

“Hello, Weyrleader.” Forcing her chin up, Kalerary turned her head to her companion. She let A’fyr speak uninterrupted and then cleared her throat carefully. “He’s got a lot of nice stuff,” she piped up shyly, and then indicated her pitchers. “I’m selling klah, or fruit juice… it’s all fresh too. That one’s my special sour-fruit blend.” She pointed to the yellow-toned pitcher for emphasis. “It’s 1/32 mark a cup, so I guess you could pretty much buy the whole pitcher for four marks if you wanted to, but then I’d have to make more.” Pondering, she shrugged one shoulder then peered down at the pies. He was giving them food? She glanced from the man to A’fyr and then back again, still somewhat meek… but that was primarily caused by the fact that Kalerary was an oddity among children: she did not eat sweets. It wasn’t personal. “Thank you for your generosity. I’ll trade you a cup of one of these for the pie -- is only fair. Which would you like, sir…?”

[Kisha-Ra]

R’fuin strolled along, whistling tunelessly, Even after placing an order for some new furniture with the woodcrafters he still had marks practically burning a hole in his pockets. Perhaps the trouble was that R’fuin wanted for very little these days, hailing as he did from Benden Weyr, he tended to see life in the south as an easy ride. Though not so much recently… The bluerider bit his lip, thinking of Razi, he hadn’t always liked or understood the woman his sister had become but now he had cause to regret their estrangement after escaping the north. He only wished that the cause had not been Razi’s death.

Strange mine, sad mine. Trick wormed his way out of R’fuin’s belt pouch, where he’d been snoozing only briefly disturbed by R’fuin paying for his new furniture. The brown salamandyr clambered up R’fuin’s clothing to perch on his shoulder and blink worried eyes. Would it cheer him up if Trick did something for him? Trick made a passable feline mmrow and cocked his head hopefully. No? That was an old trick. Trick huffed and curled his sinuous tail loosely about his human. Strange sad, strange mine. New tricks, good Trick, strange tricks good. He muttered comfortingly and got a half hearted scratch for his trouble.

R’fuin reached up to scratch his salamandyr and looked around for something to distract himself with. A pair of youngsters from the Weyr with their own stalls provided that distraction in a timely fashion. He thought the girl was Ka’rys’s child, though he wasn’t actually that hot on weyrbrat recognition, the older lad was certainly a weyrling from Aslath’s final clutch but R’fuin failed to remember his name. He sauntered up to the pair of small stalls with a slight smile, he really didn’t think he could managed to whistle again though.

R’fuin had fully intended to let K’roi finish whatever transaction he was involved in, it wasn’t seemly for blueriders to come along an interrupt the weyrleader after all. However the little carvings of salamandyrs caught his eye and he slipped behind K’roi for a closer look, somehow managing to brush against the bronzerider in the process, and why not? K’roi was attractive, and even if he totally freaked out it would be amusing. R’fuin felt a bit of his good humour returning.