Welcome to Gaia! ::

It's a nice day for this summer. Viltre peered up through his fingers, through the great tree's shade. Even down here, below most of the village, it was a bad idea to look towards the sun. The tall redhead only allowed himself the moment for now, trying to take on that bright warmth. People liked it better than the sly trickster for first impressions. Easier to mirror something pleasant if he led with it. Of course, mirroring the sun this season was a good way to burn people. The young man was glad he hadn't brought his grass cloak. Even under the shade, it would bake him right through. It was a scorcher, this summer!

All the more reason to be out here, really. The local folk had to work with local material, and nothing much around here was built to breathe. Merle paid attention when her children needed something, and several, the younger especially, needed summerwear. Naturally, one of the illegitimates was bidden fetch. Viltre didn't mind. He'd been out here studying one wagon after another for the right mix and materials. A couple caught the eye, and this one in particular... The other customer was obvious once he ducked inside the tent, but the tall boy could wait. Better than barging in and demanding service, by far. He instead set himself by a rack of cloth bolts, and began checking the weaves...

Having grown with over half a dozen siblings, most of them younger, Faylen's mark knew her tones immediately. More succinctly, he knew trouble when he heard it. Viltre was, himself. Pale green eyes turned down and to the left, his face following with a wary smile. Pickpockets weren't uncommon down here, if you didn't know what to look for. Luckily, he did, and found none of the usual earmarks. Details told him she was some relation to the proprietor, likely a child or close enough to be. The hair, the eyes, facial shape, so on. The deep voice decided to be soft, so that they didn't immediately draw attention.

"That depends, " said the tall young man, " on how you can help." Toying with her clearly wouldn't be the best option. Not if she really was the shopkeep's daughter. ...But it was so hard not to! She had on an expression so like Niiemh, a few years back! Able to restrain himself for the moment, the lanky pickocket dropped smoothly into a crouch. At 5'7, he was taller than most any earthling he knew. Seemed unfair when it came to children, and intimidating the girl was an option way down the list. Instead, he continued addressing the hybrid gal as though she were the same age or older. "Name's Viltre. An' before we get talkin' business, who'm I speakin' with?"

The smile lost some of its wariness, now that the tpair had been introduced. A slim, long-fingered hand reached in offer, and would shake hers if accepted. "It's a pleasure to meet ya, Faylen. Linens an' cottons'll do just fine, I think. Might ask about some little silk, but we'll see on that. I dropped by 'cos I've never been here before, an' that got me curious. I've got a couple errands to run, but those can wait.

I've gotta ask: d'your folks weave all this yourselves, are are you makin' deals to get 'em where they need to go? I like what I'm seein' so far, so I know your family's got some good eyes at least." Viltre stayed in his squat like it was the most comfortable position in the world. Elbows rested on knees, and he barely fidgeted. Seemed rude to just loom over someone when you spoke to them, especially a child. Ran contrary to his intended tack, as well.

"I mean, if I'm thinkin' of puttin' an order in, I wanna know about the place first. That makes sense, right?" The tall man put a conspiratorial hand beside his mouth, and rocked forward a little on his toes. The crouch helped gravity center low and wide, keeping his balance. "I'm lookin' to get a couple dresses commissioned for my sisters. One of 'em's gettin' married soon, an' we can't have her do that in her huntin' tunic, can we? Got blood an' mudstains deep in the fabric. ...I think it was green once, but that's long past."

Viltre rocked back, better satisfied with the information he was being given. If the thread count and cut of some of these articles was any indication, their work might well get Merle off everyone's back for a while. That was a worthwhile investment by itself. "Looks like you guys run a tight wagon here. I think we can talk cloth. D'y'think your da could do anything suitable of Jauhar cotton?"

In truth, the girl wasn't too far off in her vision. Viltre might have agreed with it, had he been a mind-reader. As it was, he was fairly good at reading people, and Faylen wasn't bothering to hide the sparkles in her gaze. His mother would very likely make it a large production for a whole host of reasons. Not least of which, this was the first of her husband's brood to be wed, and appearances mattered with that sort of thing. Certainly she'd work to outdo it once one of her wn children had been matched up. That was the Kavensei matriarch for you.

Faylen slipped off and back at some speed once she had something she knew about. Her customer was tempted to check the rugs behind her for scorch marks on her return. Instead, he reached forward with clever fingers and felt at the nearest sample-corner. A moment's rub between thumb and forefinger, and he nodded to himself. "Good choices! I'm thinkin' the cream or the blue, myself. If my sister had her way, she'd be in the razorgrass pinks an' yellows, but I know my mother." The red head of hair shook. "Does your Da have a book of his usual designs to start from? Or does he do each one from scratch?"