Lower Market Meetup

The sky is a perfect blue today, without a cloud in sight. It's not overly warm yet, but the world has that edge of warmth to it. Like a promise soon to be fulfilled. One of the many people in the bustling market district is a mul'niessan man of slightly remarkable disposition. Namely that his hair is pitch black rather than the more common white tone of his people. His clothes are black with a few touches of silver, which also makes him stand out somewhat among the more brightly dressed individuals of the region. The only color on him is a strip of red ribbon bound into braided hair that falls to his knees, and his bright red eyes.

This man stops at one of the stalls, looking over various potted plants being offered by the proprietor. Tis the season for green growing things and Daechir has an interest in adding to his collection. "Do you have any wild roses perhaps?" He asks politely, his long arched ears glinting with many silver rings.

A figure glides across the skies with outstretched wings, their heading going towards a road for landing. But an unfortunate gust of wind knocks them and their be-ribboned self off course, and they skirt along an awning underfoot. They tumble out of the air, and land stomach first on the road with a slide.

The rust red and white egalrin is still for a beat. Then they pat the ground. "Mmmhmm... mmmhmm. Yep. The ground is made of ground. Terrible sleeping spot, can't believe I zonked out here!" they chirp, playing it off as they get themselves sorted out.

The oddly dressed and ribboned eaglefolk jumps up to their feet, a bit woozy on their feet, like they were winded. She glances to the side towards the mul, blinks at the stall she landed by, then clears her throat, acting like nothing happened. "... or any bluebells?"

There's a shape that comes up from behind the mul'niessa man with the long braid--a shadow that towers almost seven feet into that perfect blue sky. But that shadow belongs to what amounts to a tall bronze-plated... doll, almost, judging by the way it's dressed in a long gown that looks thoughtfully tailored to the feminine form like an oversized porcelain fashion doll in the hands of a nobleman's child.

"I have not seen any wild roses at the market today," the strange mechanical form states in the crisp and straightforward medium tone of a young woman--the delicate doll-face not moving, but its pitch black eyes lighting up with an odd white light with each syllable.

Then there's a moment where the golem looks at the ribbon on that long braid of his. "Where did you acquire that ribbon? Father liked one like it, but it was incinerated." Again, delivered in that straightforward manner, a slight lilt at the end of her query to indicate that it was, in fact, a question.

Another Mul'niessa is present in the market, this one too a little taller than most of his species while still falling a few inches short of the silver-earringed Shadow Elf. The second Mul'niessa's hair is the typical moon-white color that's more common to his race, but his skin is darker than most. Silvery tattoos reminiscent of scales or feathers or perhaps flower petals start just behind his ears, draping down his neck and disappearing into the collar of his cloak. The cloak itself, as dull gray as one would expect, looks like it was well made once, though it's clearly suffered from travel, dusty and tattered in places.

The shorter Mul doesn't approach the flower seller, instead lingering a few stalls over, watching the congregation with a slight tilt of his head. Beneath his cloak he wears some studded leather armor, also dourly gray, and on his hip is a rapier though its mostly hidden save the outline of the sheathed blade where it disrupts the lines of his cloak. The sudden skid-stand-cover-up of the eagle person sees him step suddenly to the side, dodging away even if he didn't quite need to. And the arrival of the war golem makes his head tilt back as his eyes go up-up-up to take in the monstrosity. There's a clear uncertainty to his movements as he stays where he is, near an herbalist's stall, just sort of openly staring without seeming to mean to.

Daechir glances toward the egalrin who lands so unceremoniously nearby and a soft smile touches his lips. He doesn't comment on the harsh landing, but rather waits patiently for the shopkeeper to answer his question. "Bluebells yes, but no we don't have any wild roses. I've a few cultivated roses though! Much easier to grow." The shopkeeper looks at Daechir with interest and he shakes his head slowly.

Which is about the time that a dark shadow falls over him offering that there didn't seem to be any of what he was looking for in the marketplace at all. Instinctively Daechir steps forward, almost knocking his knees against the display and earning him a harsh look from the shopkeeper before he turns and looks at the person who had veritably snuck up behind him.

He sketches a slight bow to the bronze-plated wargolem and blinks at their question. "I appreciate your information. It seems that looking here will do me little good then. Perhaps I can cultivate one from the wild." He sighs and then straightens. "As for the ribbon. I acquired it in a marketplace not unlike this one. If you search, you may well find one to your liking here."

A flicker of crimson eyes toward the mul'niessa watching, but otherwise the man gives no indication that he's inclined to engage the other mul.

The weary egarlin shoots the thumbs and smooths her crown feathers back. "Good to know, good to know, might be back 'round later. Damn purse keeps gettin' holes in it... such bad luck, amIright?" Words are expedited as a growing shadow looms behind. She closes her eyes, puts her hands together, and offers a silent prayer.

And turns right around. "Oh." Her head cranes up, up, uuup.... "Well don't you just have the most spectacular little peepers. I know a guy who's got a green one..."

A similar glance to the openly staring mul'neissa a few stalls away, but ends up being a double take with no subtly. "Woah, woah, woah. They make tattoos in THAT color?" she enthuses, looking positively thrilled.

The young lady golem looks at Daechir for a moment longer--not a hint of emotion in that unmoving faceplate of hers. Then, her eyes light up as she speaks again. "I see," she says crisply. "I suppose they do not grow ribbons in the wild, either, or I would suggest that we go find them together in a mutually beneficial transaction."

There's another flicker in her eyes--a blink. She looks between the egalrin and the long-braided mul man--which are both very intentional and slow movements that are analytical in nature. "Father said it is rude to not introduce oneself to people not previously known. I am Grace Reason Amity Miracle August Revelry Young Earnest--designation GRAMARYE. I am capable of enchantment and item creation to your exact specifications."

She reaches her hands down to her dress and curtsies in a fine, if stiff, manner. "How do you do," she says, in a way that sounds polite and open--albeit suspiciously rehearsed, like someone instructed her to say it that way exactly.

Hithaeron's own forest green eyes flicker over to Daechir as he's examined, the mutual glance brief and sudden before their attention shifts away, neither inclined to approach the other. In fact, its likely that if the Egalrin hadn't directly spoken to him he might've faded off into the crowd and disappeared.

But Slixvah *does* address him, causing him to blink and glance down at his arm - shrugging it out of his cloak to examine the silvery tattoos. He looks back to the eagalrin woman and purses his lips for a second, before answering, "They do." loud enough to be heard but not shouted. He *still* seems ready to step away and disappear when the golem introduces itself. Green eyes trace their way back up to its face as he considers the introduction, and he takes a hesitant step closer, then another, approaching with only a small glance given to Daechir now and then. He would be rather easy to ward off, if the Mul made an inclination that he was unwelcome, that lingering uncertainty remaining obvious in his movements.

Daechir watches the golem's reaction, and blinks quietly at their response to his words. The golem goes on to introduce herself and Daed sketches another bow to her. "You may call me Daed." He smiles simply at the tall construct and then makes a polite offer. "If you like, I can help you search the market here for a ribbon. I am fairly well-known through this area and might be able to make your efforts go more quickly."

A further nod toward the other mul'niessa who it seems has decided to engage. There is no indication from Daed that he has an intent to chase off Hithaeron. To the contrary. He seems quite welcoming.

The bird woman perks up, eyes crinkling in a smile that a lack of lips couldn't convey. "Me? One of the Best-i. I'm none too testy, and its hard to impress-me. But with a name like that, can't say you're pesky, but rather zesty! The name's Slixvah Unmesi!" she chirps, jabbing a thumb against her chest.

Proud of her little verbal game, she eyes the golem with interest before yanking the lingering tattooed mul'neissa in with more words. "I bet it's pretty slick to do that. Does it hurt lots to do? What's it made from?" Curious little bugger, even when she's leaning against the stall to keep herself upright much to the owner's annoyance.

Daechir gets a slow regard from Gramarye--which is to say, the golem stares at him some more--before she speaks again. "That is agreeable to me," she replies. "An extra set of perception receptors would double the odds of finding a matching ribbon."

But then her head swivels to look at the tattooed mul'niessa as he's pointed out by Slixvah. Gramarye regards him for a long moment, just as she did with Daechir and Slivah, before she replies, "I do not understand the purpose of this 'tattoo', nor do I understand the purpose of the color. Please enlighten me at your earliest convenience. I wish to know more, as it may be helpful in my future endeavors to understand others."

Hithaeron glances briefly between Slixvah and Gramarye for a second, a faint smile appearing suddenly. "They're decoration." he says, extending his arm out toward the duo with a brief glance at Daechir before he looks down to his arm once more. "I don't know what they used, some sort of ink - I assume some insect's shell or flower is involved in the process." His pronunciation is somewhat lilting in Tradespeak.

"I suppose it did hurt." he says to the eagle-women, arm lowering back to his side to tuck it up beneath his cloak once more. "I'm Aeron." he adds, "Since everyone else introduced themselves." He looks up, up, up to the golem and adds, "They're for the same reason people wear ribbons or favor a specific color. Just to look nice." a brief glance returning to Daechir, then Slixvah, the flicker back and forth between each of the others near constant, as if he's not entirely sure what to expect from any of them.

With the situation with Gramarye resolved, and the offer of aid accepted, Daechir relaxes a fraction. Instead he watches the other man's uncertain approach, gaging him as uncomfortable. In order to avoid exacerbating this, Daed does his best not to weigh the other mul'niessa. Still, it's somewhat difficult. It's not often that he sees another mul in Alexandria. "Welcome to Alexandria, Aeron." There's a small smile flickering across his lips at the mention of the other man's name. "I take it that you are new here?"

Slixvah steps off from the stall slightly to raise her arms and flutter her wings; the mass of ribbons and robes on her wafting from a slight breeze. "Because they're preeeetty!" she coos to the golem. "Sometimes ya ain't gotta have a reason aside from likin' it!"

She pivots to Aeron. "Looks like it's worth the pain! Can't say I'm a not lil' jealous, but that's all good. Can give it a try later." Huh?

She looks between Daed and Aeron, blinking thrice before rubbing the side of her beak and letting out a slight sigh. A bit slow on the social gauging game than usual.

Gramarye does not nod or provide any other visible acknowledgement of what the others say about tattoos. But her eyes flicker to life again as she says, "I see."

She looks back at Daechir's ribbon in his braid rather than the whole of the man, looming a little closer to the mul'niessa man in a move that might be... a tad imposing. "Father liked to wrap ribbons around my clothes. When I asked him what the purpose of that action was, he replied that it was a father's duty to give gifts to his daughter. I have recorded seven-hundred and twenty-three instances of this action, with the last one three weeks, two days, four minutes, and thirty-nine seconds. That was the ribbon that was incinerated."

Gramarye's gaze turns to Daechir's face, finally. "As it was Father's last gift to me, I feel it is appropriate to replace the gift, although I am not able to return his gift at this present time."

Hithaeron seems to relax subtly when the answer about the tattoos is accepted, nodding over at Slix' assessment about the reason for the tattoos. His attention is on Daed when he speaks up though, offering a small nod, "Thank you - and yes. Is it that obvious?" asked with a sudden grin, white teeth appearing set behind darker lips. His hands find the pockets of his cloak, letting it wrap in around him once he's said it.

Gramarye gets another look all the way up when she speaks, his lips pursing subtly before he nods, "I'm sure you can find a ribbon in the market." he says, considering her for a moment longer. "What color was the other one?"

He's loosening up, slowly, but his eyes remain alert in a subtly paranoid drift left and right, then to his companions, and his body language keeps him smaller and easier to overlook. Or as easy to overlook as a Mul'niessa in Alexandria can be.

Daechir's red eyes darken as the construct talks, and he gently looks up at her. Nodding once. "I will do what I can to help you find a replacement." His voice is suddenly soft and he looks up and down the street a bit, trying to decide which shop would be most likely to have what is looked for. Then Aeron speaks up and he nods once to himself. "Yes, was the ribbon red like mine? If so, I think I know the perfect shop to look in."

He also flashes the other man a warm look. "Obvious to someone who remembers well what it was like to be new in Alexandria. It is... very different from everywhere else." His red eyes almost seem to glow briefly. An odd trick of the light surely.

Slixvah almost takes the low hanging fruit of asking a question, but she clacks her beak shut at the last minute, spying all the awkward red flags popping up with that. "Yeah, what Aeron said."

The ribboned egalrin spreads her wings, exposing a rainbow of ribbons that dangle from the joints. "Any of these get close to your fancy?" she inquires.

She bobs her head along with Daed's words. "Yeah, kinda different for sure. Got its problems but it's nice."

"Yes, it was red," Gramarye responds affirmatively. "Father explained he picked it because he believed rose red was aesthetically pleasing with my clothes."

Then the egalrin opens up her wings, and Gramarye's head pivots again--followed by a slow and careful lean closer to the smaller egalrin. There's another 'blink' of white light in Gramarye's dark eyes before she responds, "Yes. This ribbon."

She lifts a plated hand that has manicured nails set lovingly into the bronze plating. The fingers curl back save for one, and she points to a particular red ribbon--but does not reach out to touch it. "It is identical in length, width, and thickness to Father's last ribbon."

And there's... curiously, more 'blinks' in the war golem's eyes before she speaks again. "May I have it? I can provide monetary compensation."

"Very different." Aeron agrees with a nod at Daechir, green eyes meeting the subtle glow of the other Mul'niessa's red ones without flinching. Though he glances away a moment later, to look back to Slixha. "It's been fine so far." he says, "Less filthy than some places I've been." said with the subtled note of arrogance in his tone.

He turns some as the golem and the bird interact over the ribbon, hands still settled in his cloak. He nods a bit, the arrogance gone from his tone as he says, "Well that was easy." a glance to Daechir and, seemingly with a decision made, he takes a half-step closer to the other man to give the eagle and the golem a little more space to do their thing.

There's a few moments of silence, followed by a question aimed aside at Daechir, "How long have you been in the city?"

With the problem of the ribbon seemingly solved, and the clear desire from Aeron for conversation, Daechir allows the two women a moment to discuss ribbons. He keeps half an ear on the conversation however, ready to intervene should this talk of price continue. He after all intends that Gramarye not need to 'repurchase' the gift that her father gave her. For the moment however he turns the rest of his attention to Aeron. "About three or four years of more constant occupation." Daed responds in reply to the question. "My mother's family has a residence here which she gifted to me some years ago and I have been residing there. You should come by sometime and visit if you have the time and intend to remain in the city."

Slixvah turns her head slightly to eye the ribbon in question. "Oh! How convenient!" she chirps, somehow lacking any surprise in her tone. She unties it, and without fanfare, drapes it over the singular digit that's outstretched. "Here ya go. You can have it! Don't need no coin, prolly just gonna lose it later, knowing my luck as of late. Got a ton of these little suckers anyways."

She steals a look towards Aeron, nodding in agreement about the place, but is wrapped up in ribbon business. Heh.

The war golem takes the ribbon carefully, in a motion that's perhaps more gentle and slow than most would expect of a construct, cupping it into both of her hands. Her eyes blink light a few more times, and she wraps it around the waist of her gown, tying it into a neat bow-tie around her front.

"I express my gratitude to you, Slixvah Unmesi, for this most kind and generous gift." It's another phrase that sounds oddly rehearsed as it has a slight more emotion--with the exception of Slixvah's name, of course--and it's accompanied by another curtsy.

Gramarye looks over to the two mul'niessa men and says, "May I visit, as well? Father directed me to visit more people and record their information in my data banks in the event they become valued customers."

Paying much less attention to the ribbon conversation now that he has Daechir's attention, Hithaeron straightens subtly, hands still tucked away in his cloak as he listens and nods. "I see." he says, noncommittally. He glances at the other Mul for a moment, then looks back to the other two so that he isn't staring, watching the ribbon be taken and tied.

"I do intend to stay - for a while at least." he says. "We'll see about the offer to visit, though." in the stereotypically paranoid Mul'niessa fashion. "I would hate to intrude, and wouldn't want to make a mistake that would get back to my family." said with a subtle purse of his lips. "Especially if yours still has ties.. back home. It wouldn't do to upset an envoy." There's a beat before he continues, "But we could have a drink sometime, or something. And you could tell me about your mother, who has a place in Alexandria."

"Of course you may visit." Offers Daechir to Gramarye, offering her a low nod of his head and then Aeron's words make him laugh suddenly. A sound that is rich and twinkles with the sound of light ringing bells. "Aeron. I am a half-breed. My mother is Llyranesi. Though I understand your wariness, she will not mind in the least if you come to visit." He offers the other man a good natured look, and slides a hand over his pitch-black hair as though to emphasize the strangeness of his un-mul-like features. "As long as you do not mind dining with a mutt, you are welcome to come to my home, and it would be my pleasure to share a drink with you."

Slixvah beams (as much as one could with a beak). "You're welcome, sugar!" she coos, picking up some of her robes and dipping in her own, sloppy curtsey.

She herself doesn't invite herself, that's rude in most cultures. But Daed seems unfazed by that. She tucks her wings back in as her eyes crinkle in a smile. Glancing to the golem, she stifles a yawn. "'ey Shiny. You run by the mage's college from time to time? I wanna pick your data banks. Figuratively speaking. Not literally, that'd be rude."

She jabs a thumb over her shoulder, an increasing look of fatigue overshadowing her chipperness. "Nice t'meetch'y'all, but this bird's gotta crash. Gettin' hit by those little wight jerks sucks the life right outta ya!"

A pause. "There is no punchline. That wasn't a joke. Maybe see ya later."

She walks backwards, snapping her fingers and shooting finger-belchers at the trio before she seamlessly melds into the crowd-

Thud. Batter. Punt. "Damn, ow, why?" Apparently not as seamless as she anticipated.

Aaaand she's gone.

Gramarye regards Slixvah with another log stare before she replies, "I am Grace Reason Amity Miracle August Revelry Young Earnest--designation GRAMARYE. Not Shiny. I will, however, file 'Shiny' as a permitted 'nickname' variable. I do visit the college from time to time--and while I perform my own maintenance, I will not object to more who are curious. Father is no longer able to perform such procedures and so it is recommended that I recruit those willing to aid."

She looks on blankly as Slixvah eats it. "Query: what is a 'punchline'--"

And then the bird is gone. A blink in Gramarye's eyes. "Perception receptors indicate that Slixvah Unmesi is not here. Deduction: implementation of unknown magic. Inquiry must be made at a future time not yet determined."

Gramarye returns to Daechir and Aeron, that slow and intentional pivot of her head in their direction again. "I have no further purpose in this marketplace, and my schedule protocol indicates I have other appointments on this day."

She drops into a curtsy again as she says, in another seemingly rehearsed phrase, "I bid you adieu and warm wishes, gentle people and or persons."

That last one could use some work. But the strange bronze 'young lady' departs with a stiff walk.

Hithaeron blinks, then he blink-blinks again at the sound of Daechir's laughter and his sudden explanation. "Oh." he says, turning a little to openly stare at the man, down then back up. "I've never met one of you before." he says simply, that *tinge* of arrogance back.

Still he gets it under control and nods a couple of times, "I'll stop by soon then, we'll plan a time. It's not like I'm easy to miss here." he says with a faint gesture at the surrounding market full of humans and dragons and eagles and dwarves and any number of other things.. but very few Mul'niessa. "It was nice meeting you, Daed." he says, offering a wave to the departing Slix and Gramarye as well. "I still need to do a bit of shopping though - I'm sure I'll run into you soon." and, with that, he turns to make his way off, losing himself in the crowd.

-End