Post by Azhdarchid on Oct 18, 2011 10:16:32 GMT -5
Perhaps if a person failed to Q'sis when he beckoned them, he would stop believing everyone listened to him without hesitation. Or, more likely, he would become outraged at the outlier. I'tier was not to be that man. Q'sis did not see him at his side after a few strides, but looking over his shoulder revealed the man just behind him. Quick eyes scoured the new bottle in the Bluerider's hand, and Q'sis grinned: I'tier had taste.
"Decent way to end the Interval," he said, expanding on the other's sentiment. I'tier was a rider of the Upper Flight, to which Crescent's display was inadequately glorious. Reviewing the list of wingriders in his head, he realized the man shared his space with the fool-turned-Weyrlingmaster, Tasakhori. Tasa might get confined to the Lower Flight and the Weyrling Wings when the Tideturners were capable of meeting her there, but in the first Falls she would be on high too. He disguised his distaste, which had no place in a conversation with the merry Bluerider.
He picked out the coastal Southern vendors by their dark tans, and approached one with a cart full of small, elaborate fruit pastries nestled in beds of wet flower petals. Pern did not have many flowers, and fewer still now that Hold and Hall were being green-fired for the Pass. But Q'sis-- he appreciated the lilting, delicate shapes so easily deformed by his hand. "Unath has a good time no matter where she is," he observed quietly as he passed his hand over the confectionary rows, then picked up a dough ball etched with frosting-filled grooves, the inside packed with some Southern flora's fruit.
He showed it to the vendor, another trader, and made a couple hand motions indicating his desire for six more like it. The ball resting in his hand had a waxy coat over it hat prevented the frosting from painting his palm, so there was no concern in taking extras along. The other trader may have been unaccustomed to haggling over mere treats, but these specialties tended to be overpriced. His eyes flickered over the Tanrider's Weyrling knot, and he let the pastries go at a loss, throwing in a belt-pouch to hold them.
Q'sis ate the first in a single bite, bound up the six others, then turned to address I'tier. He had heard the Bluerider's soft complaints on the bottle's weight. "We ought return to the dragons then," he observed. "Your blue will not mind that load so much." His gaze shifted upward to something flashy and red behind I'tier, and his lips pressed together. "Wait for me a moment though."
The Weyrling headed out, this time with the distinct expectation that I'tier would not toddle after him. He caught up with the bouncing vision of Saia, gripping her at the shoulder and spinning her around to face him. "Give me what you have for Marks," he demanded, and once she presented her wooden handful he grimaced, but swiped them up. "You're oiling Unath from now till you Impress your own beast," he added, non-negotiable, before pulling off his scarf and hat and bequeathing both to her shoulders and head regardless of her own attire. Noticing the plain spiceroll occupying her other hand, the Tanrider snorted with a connoisseur's disdain and fished out one of the waxy dough balls from the belt pouch. He passed that to Saia too. "Go away now," he ordered, then headed back to I'tier.
Q'sis waved his hand in dismissal of the digression, then gestured to an alley between vendor tents that led to the next big street of Crafters and traders. "We'll head back toward the beach through there. I need to scout the Tanners a bit, and I can't look too interested." Subtlety, of course, was out of the question when the giant of a rider came pacing out from the narrow corridor. He showed no sign of minding the number of eyes that went to him. "How is the mood in your wing? I watch the drills, but I do not see everything." So modest. "What does Verith say?"
"Decent way to end the Interval," he said, expanding on the other's sentiment. I'tier was a rider of the Upper Flight, to which Crescent's display was inadequately glorious. Reviewing the list of wingriders in his head, he realized the man shared his space with the fool-turned-Weyrlingmaster, Tasakhori. Tasa might get confined to the Lower Flight and the Weyrling Wings when the Tideturners were capable of meeting her there, but in the first Falls she would be on high too. He disguised his distaste, which had no place in a conversation with the merry Bluerider.
He picked out the coastal Southern vendors by their dark tans, and approached one with a cart full of small, elaborate fruit pastries nestled in beds of wet flower petals. Pern did not have many flowers, and fewer still now that Hold and Hall were being green-fired for the Pass. But Q'sis-- he appreciated the lilting, delicate shapes so easily deformed by his hand. "Unath has a good time no matter where she is," he observed quietly as he passed his hand over the confectionary rows, then picked up a dough ball etched with frosting-filled grooves, the inside packed with some Southern flora's fruit.
He showed it to the vendor, another trader, and made a couple hand motions indicating his desire for six more like it. The ball resting in his hand had a waxy coat over it hat prevented the frosting from painting his palm, so there was no concern in taking extras along. The other trader may have been unaccustomed to haggling over mere treats, but these specialties tended to be overpriced. His eyes flickered over the Tanrider's Weyrling knot, and he let the pastries go at a loss, throwing in a belt-pouch to hold them.
Q'sis ate the first in a single bite, bound up the six others, then turned to address I'tier. He had heard the Bluerider's soft complaints on the bottle's weight. "We ought return to the dragons then," he observed. "Your blue will not mind that load so much." His gaze shifted upward to something flashy and red behind I'tier, and his lips pressed together. "Wait for me a moment though."
The Weyrling headed out, this time with the distinct expectation that I'tier would not toddle after him. He caught up with the bouncing vision of Saia, gripping her at the shoulder and spinning her around to face him. "Give me what you have for Marks," he demanded, and once she presented her wooden handful he grimaced, but swiped them up. "You're oiling Unath from now till you Impress your own beast," he added, non-negotiable, before pulling off his scarf and hat and bequeathing both to her shoulders and head regardless of her own attire. Noticing the plain spiceroll occupying her other hand, the Tanrider snorted with a connoisseur's disdain and fished out one of the waxy dough balls from the belt pouch. He passed that to Saia too. "Go away now," he ordered, then headed back to I'tier.
Q'sis waved his hand in dismissal of the digression, then gestured to an alley between vendor tents that led to the next big street of Crafters and traders. "We'll head back toward the beach through there. I need to scout the Tanners a bit, and I can't look too interested." Subtlety, of course, was out of the question when the giant of a rider came pacing out from the narrow corridor. He showed no sign of minding the number of eyes that went to him. "How is the mood in your wing? I watch the drills, but I do not see everything." So modest. "What does Verith say?"