Buying Tunics, Making Friends

Xanadu Weyr - Main Clearing
A wide clearing stretches from east to west, the ground packed hard although grass grows across most of it. Trees are strictly forbidden in this space, their danger to the constant draconic traffic reason enough to banish them to the forest that creates a border to the north. Where the ground is less trampled, tiny flowers poke their delicate heads out from their shaded hiding places with upturned petals to wave to whoever may be looking.
The cliff looms imposingly on two sides. Toward the southwest, a spire stretches up to high above where the everpresent watchdragon sits on a lonely peak with Xanadu's Starstones. A massive rocky spur extends to the north, curved slightly to hold the clearing and pocked with doors and windows.
The hatching arena and Dragonhealers' Annex sit to the southeast, built together into a single complex that takes up a large portion of the perimeter beneath its domed roof. To the southwest, wide steps lead up to the caverns, and almost directly south is the entrance to the Infirmary. Nestled between the infirmary and the main caverns there's a human-sized archway with frequent traffic - it leads to the Wanderin' Wherry Tavern.
Tucked near the arch, just off to one side is a tiny wood-frame shop bearing the name 'Wildflower Boutique'. Windows have been cut along the cliff in various places along the cliff. Those of the administrative offices are placed to have the best view of Xanadu's airspace - to the southwest, over the entrance to the caverns and the infirmary. Others mark the dormitories and those of lucky residents, while toward the northern edge of that spur cluster the windows and entrances to the crafters' complex.
The rest of the Weyr lies to the north and east - a broad road that leads through the meadow and the trees of the forest beyond. At the far northern edge of the clearing, just inside the perimeter kept clear of trees, a clocktower sits and proudly displays the hour.

Rattling wagon wheels! Happy, cheery merchants' calls! It's a caravan, come to Xanadu for some trading! There it is, coming down the pathway and pulling into the clearing, a handful of wagons and people in and on them. Everybody's all happy to be there to refresh themselves, to rest, and maybe to get some food! Though one of the guards doesn't quite look so happy. Sitting next to the driver of one wagon in what might have been called 'riding shotgun' in another place and time, is a skinny scarecrow of a man. He's bundled up warmly against the winter cold, all dressed in black. His hair's black too, long and almost stringy-looking. The long nails tipping thin fingers don't help the look much. At least he's not pale. As the group dismounts from the wagons he does so too seeming to almost flow from the seat to the ground.

And then there is Risali, with equally black hair pulled back in a runner's tail, pale but for the fading spots of evident bruising around one eye, along her cheek, at her jaw and, the worst of it: on her neck. There's a scab above one eye, another healing on her lip, and the knuckles of her right fist are covered in them - she's been in a fight (this much is obvious), though one that can't have been too recent given that her bruises have started to turn that brown bruises do just days before they disappear altogether. There's bruising on her torso too - want to know how you can tell? She isn't wearing a shirt. Risali is shirtless, in the cold, with her arms crossed over her chest to offer a little more protection than what her bra offers and looking murderous. It's the caravan's luck (or misfortune?) to have appeared at some point between her getting from point A to point HERE, and Raemar just so happens to be the closest to her. Nevermind the unnerving fluidity of his movement, or his garishly scarecrow appearance; look at those goosebumps. Risali is cold, and in desperate need of a tunic. Possibly something warmer. And Raemar is right there. One of the harper's tiny hands reaches out to catch at the fabric around the OBNOXIOUSLY TALL (seriously, he is a foot and a half bigger than she is) man's elbow while the other stays seated across her chest for modesty's sake. "Tunic," she growls, and it might seem like she's holding him up for clothes, but she's not. SHE HAS MARKS. Somewhere. Grey eyes jump from Rae, to the caravan, and back again before she clarifies with, "Please tell me you have some. For sell, I mean." FARANTH, IT IS FREEZING.

There's some staring amongst the members of the caravan. Because she's standing there shirtless! A few people are snickering. Most, however, are just staring, surprised. For his part? Raemar is actually a guard, not a merchant. But still, it's hard not to have some sympathy for a poor girl standing there in the Weyr clearing, with no shirt, VERY clearly freezing her behind (and other parts) off. He looks at Risali, blinks, looks at one of the other members of the caravan. "If you wanted to see topless ladies, there are other places you can go," he half-teases one of the merchants, raising an eyebrow. His voice is… actually not as unpleasant as his looks might be. It's not exactly a super-deep voice, but it possesses an undertone of a rumble to it. His speech is accented, and his words are quiet but loud enough to carry. BUT! His voice gets the staring caravan members moving! "In the meantime…" He pauses, shrugging out of his heavy, fur-lined coat. He's wearing a long-sleeved shirt under it, but the shirt fits snugly, and really doesn't do anything but make him look all the skinnier. Either way, he makes as though to wrap his coat around Risali. "Here. Until they find you something." The coat's warm, since he's been wearing it.

Staring? Snickering? Maybe any other woman would cower, or tremble, or be humiliated - and while Risa is humiliated, she bristles (turning a shade of pink) instead of any other weak, helpless, damsel-in-distress option available to her. She's just opening her mouth to snap something particularly scathing when Raemar handles the situation with considerably more verbal finesse than she would have. Almost. He almost got her to shut up. "Mind the eyes, Trader, or you won't have any," she snaps to one man, with venomous feeling. The arm keeping her modest during her tunic-inquisition interlude with Raemar comes free then, so she can make the least polite gesture imaginable (because this is a perfectly great way to get a favor out of people - right?) before her arm bands back around her chest and grey eyes are back up on Rae with a scowl that's half a smile. "Faranth, you'd think they'd at least offer me a drink first." The scowl turns into a slow, but full smile, the kind that lights up those grey eyes with muted mirth and mischief before the emotion is snuffed immediately with confusion. In the meantime…? Oh. Risali looks, for the moment, flustered. Raemar zags when she expected a zig (and she's not even sure why she expected anything, given she doesn't know the man), playing the part of an honest to Faranth gentleman and abandoning his coat to her tiny, furious person. She hesitates, only a moment, and then allows him to help her put it on before pulling it closer to her body and shutting out the cold with it. Faranth; it's got his body heat and fur and Risali is drowning in so much fabric, but couldn't care less. If Heaven were a concept that existed on Pern, Risali would be in it. Now a new dilemma: she doesn't know how to thank him. She does take in his startlingly skinny appearance though, and then breathes a little, "Well, at least let me feed you? I can get a tunic from my room. I just… wanted something to get there." Fidget. She hates the manners part. She doesn't know how to do them right.

That's all right, Raemar doesn't seem to know much about the manners business either. One might swear he too is fidgetting. But he's sort of like one of those tiny little designer canines — he always looks like he's fidgetting even when he he isn't, so it's hard to tell. Though his face is relatively deadpan, so that's a little weird, too. Just two very awkward people standing in the clearing. However, her words get a nod. "We can worry about the food later. Do you want to walk to your room?" Pause. "I mean… would you like me to walk with you?" Yeah, he has trouble with this 'socializing' thing.

Look at Risali, trying to find her hands in so much arm-fabric and failing while Raemar speaks. There's a look of determination on the tiny harper's face as she WIGGLE. WIGGLEWIGGLES. Brows furrow, fingers wiggle forth and then — SLIP. There the fabric goes again. One, two, three and Risali lets out an exhale. "Yeah, okay. Food later. Come on, pretty boy, walk me to my room." And without an ounce of personal space being a concept, Risali slips her arm under his and grasps his elbow with what is probably her fingers, but is buried in so much COAT that it's really hard to tell. She drags him through the bowl, through the caverns, through the resident's hallway, and stops at her door. There's a kick. "KYZENVIRO." One, two, three… no answer. Risali's all exasperation as she begins the tedious task of getting her door open, muttering things under her breath like, 'Sharding useless bronzerider,' and, 'He better be asleep,' while she works. Once Risali shoulders the door open, there's a hand put up for Raemar and then a hesitant, "Wait here." DISAPPEAR. When the harper reappears, it's bundled in her own jacket and scarf, hair in a bun now as opposed to the runner's tail with Rae's jacket over one arm. The door is closed behind her, and she's holding up the fabric for him to take. "Food now?" she breathes around her scarf. She's from Half Moon Bay Weyr. Xanadu is freezing to this one. "I'll throw in a drink. Or five." A pause, and then Risa extends one tiny hand for him. "I'm Risali, by the way. Thank you for… for your help."

Raemar almost chuckles at the harper's struggles with his coat. Almost. He manages to keep it to little more than a lopsided smirk, though. Which is probably just as well! However, that smirk gets replaced by an utterly confused expression when Risali calls him 'pretty boy'. He sort of… looks at one of his hands, like he's trying to make sure he didn't morph into someone else in the time he'd been speaking to her. Just completely lost. But he recognizes she's leading him into the Weyr proper, and goes along without too much dragging. Raemar's not sure what to make of all the process of getting the door open, or what she's saying during said process, so he keeps quiet. But he does nod when she says to wait. He didn't have any intentions of following her into her room anyway. He does have a few ideas of what's socially unacceptable. Once she's back out, he accepts his coat back from her with a nod. "That sounds good." To the mention of food. He pases when he's offered a hand, though. And he grasps her hand almost gingerly and shakes her hand. "Raemar," he offers. As for the help? He smirks a little. No wait, that's not a smirk. It's an attempt at a smile. "You're welcome."

"Raemar," Risali repeats, exaggerating the 'r' at the end of his name before linking her arm through his again. "Faranth, you are tall. What is it with you men and…" A gesture, exasperation, annoyance. "Being so tall." A sigh. "Come on, pretty boy. This way." And the harper will lead him again, past the caverns, through the bowl, to the Wanderin' Wherry Tavern and a table. It's not the most private of tables, but it's private enough; it's even more private if you take the fact that patrons seem to be keeping a wide berth of Risali into consideration. Sure, it could be the fact that Rae apparently looks every bit the nightmare come to life, but most likely it's the fact that Risali was only here a night or two ago, screaming at a bronzerider and upending a filthy mopbucket over his head. You know the kind - dirty water, bits of we don't wanna talk about it making it more sludge than liquid and, well… the stench is probably still permeating, on the tavern and L'gan's soul. RIP, bronzer. That'll teach you to mess with Calisi. "Tell me what you want and I'll go make the order," she breathes, pulling her scarf from her neck to wrap her hands in it for the interim. She breathes against the fabric, doing her best to warm up stiffening digits as grey eyes turn expectantly to Raemar and wait. One, two, three, and there's a smile. "And don't be shy. Get as much as you want." A pause, and then she pokes a finger into one of Raemar's sides. "You really need it."

Xanadu Weyr - Wanderin' Wherry Tavern
It is often whispered, in the crowds that converge here, that a certain Weyrleader was asked what he wanted in the remodeling of the pub that was not so long ago given a refreshing. He muttered back over the rim of his ever-present mug, "I don't care what you do with the place, just so long as there is plenty of ale." With that in mind, cask after cask of ale lines the walls of the tavern, the remodeler's idea of a jest. As they age, the casks bring a real rustic atmosphere to the pub, along with the deeply wooden flavor that seems to be the theme throughout.
The lighting is dim, as it should be in all good pubs, and the tables and chairs are plentiful. A long mahogany bar, intricately carved with runner beasts, stands vigilant duty at the head of the bar, lined with stools for those patrons that seek the bartender's company. Behind it are drinks for those not inclined toward ale, as well as a door leading to the small kitchen where snacks are made and a back room that probably holds yet more ale.

Raemar blinks at the question of his height. "…It runs in my family." That's about all he's going to say about his folks, though. Again he accompanies Risali with a minimum of dragging necessary. As for people giving Risali a wide berth? Well, it might not all be her. Raemar does look a little bit like something that stepped out of a horror story, with the stringy hair, sunken eyes, and wearing all black. He doesn't bother putting his coat back on, he's just going to remove it when they get to the tavern anyway. He hangs the coat on the back of his chair when he sits. He nods to her offer. "Thank you." He's about to say what he wants when he's poked in the side! He emits a weird, slightly humorous sound, as if he'd tried to make an inquisitive sound at the same time a sound of surprise wanted to come out. "What?" he asks, as if he's not sure what she's talking about.

"Runs in the family, does it? Thank you, Raemar. No really, thank you. I never would have guessed." But despite the sarcasm oozing from every syllable Risali breathes (and the exasperated roll of grey eyes), there's a gentle curb of playfulness to it, as if she doesn't really mean it (she does). Once they're at the taverns and settled, the harper's brow rises up as the renegade-turned-trader inquires after her poke - as if he doesn't understand that he is very skinny, and so she pokes him again. "You are smaller than me. Way smaller. Like, 'Faranth, do they feed you?' smaller. Like I'm going to pack you some bubblies because you really need them smaller." But she doesn't comment on the stringy hair, or the sunken eyes, or the black that he's wearing, either. She stays wrapped in her own dark coat, warming her hands, curled over herself just so and looking up at him while she does it. And then she's holding up fingers to signal a waiter because why not before hiding her hands again. "So how long will you all be here?" She will try to make polite conversation. Otherwise it will likely stretch into awkward silence.

Raemar blinks at the sarcasm from Risali. He tilts his head a little, expression difficult to read. Maybe a thoughtful expression. "…If it makes you feel any better… I'd rather not be so tall, if I had my choice," he offers in a halting tone. Though he smirks at her pointing out that he's incredibly scrawny. "Something else I can't help, I'm afraid. I've always been that way…" He trails off a bit, the smirk falling a little for whatever reason. As for how long he's going to be there? "I'm not sure. That depends on how long it takes the caravan to unload everything, or most of it." He nods politely in greeting to the waiter, and puts in an order. And there is perhaps part of his problem. His order is mostly vegetables and fish! Which everyone knows isn't actually meat. Or, if fish is unavailable, it'll be something with a light, white meat in it. Nothing red.

A blink, for his admittance, and Risali looks genuinely puzzled. "Why not? You can reach all of the highest shelves." Risali extends an arm above her head, waving it as if trying to feel for items she can't reach, only to be interrupted by the waiter. She doesn't place her own order, but she does hand off marks before grey eyes swing back to Raemar. She's not going to tease him for his diet, or tell him to eat more because it's not her business, but she is going to curl fingers in the fabric of his tunic again and pull just slightly. "You could have ordered more," she informs him, softly - and then it happens. A bronze firelizard emerges from between, twittering and flying about Risa's head before it lands on her shoulder and nips at the shell of her ear. The harper makes a strangled noise and then flings her hands out with a shriek of, "THAT HURT," only to have the bronze land on the table before her. There's a string of curses as she rubs the offended area and takes a letter - only to go still. For a moment, Risali forgets to breath. She presses her hand to her throat as grey eyes go wide and her entire being starts to tremble. "Faranth. Oh Faranth. Kyzenviro, I have to…" Risali is clambering out of her seat with clumsy haste, fumbling for marks that she drops and doesn't bother to pick up and then gives up altogether, simply giving Rae what she can manage with hands that won't cooperate. "I have to find Kyzen. I'm sorry, please… Please take these and… drink." Is she crying? She is totally crying, hugging the paper to her chest like a lifeline as she makes for the door without any explanation. VAMOOSH. GOODBYE! IT WAS FUN!

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