Welcome to Gaia! ::

Her face fell a bit and she put away her incredibly hardy plant. Oh well. It would find a good home someday! Wait... Leaving soon? To another Kingdom? Ooo! This was so Exciting!
"Oh! Well, that tea is for Digestion, but it also tastes great. Good to have one of those around becuase you never KNOW what you're going to find there!" She lifted another tea packet, "And this one is for energy... Which I always have!" she laughed merrily. She hadn't drunk any tea today, she didn't need to. Acerium was just like this.
"Ah! And these are for healing... And these are for sickness... and these are more like incense... They smell good. Never underestimate the Virtues of smelling good... A sweet smelling shop always sells more than a shop that smells like days-old cheese!" she laughed again.

"Ahahaha. The rumors. Well yes, they're only just rumors, but it's fun to talk about them, isn't it? And speculate! but ah..." his other question took her by surprise.

Acerium waved over the Huntress. Those birds looked like they would make a GREAT dinner.
Movement caught her eye.
People seemed to be going to the scribe. Already?

"Ah... Not yet! I keep getting caught up in Market Day... I'd probably go with someone..."

A sudden *CRASH Clatter... Ting...* interrupted her.

Acerium's already fidgety attention span was caught by the walkign pile of trash. She didn't want to leave her cart and her trade and her conversation, but...

"Are you okay?"

Oh! It was the eccentric! She'd heard of him!
She mostly felt sorry for the poor dear, having to carry all that stuff around without anybody to help him.
She'd been too distracted by everything else to hear his raving.

He hadn't answered her, and was soon away. A card fluttered by and became stuck in her cart...
"Oh well!"
She laughed off the rudeness.
"Like I said, if I had someone to go with, I might have an easier time of making the decision."
Oddly enough, She WASN'T implying anything.

On their way over, he'd noticed that a trail of cards was being dropped. He slipped one into his pocket, to examine it later: if it had information he could use, all the better! He motioned to Crispin to make sure the other had seen the cards, before deciding to grab a second one; not for him, mind!

"Crispin Waldergrave, it's my pleasure to make your acquaintance," Harland replied, about to help the new acquaintance recover whatever had clattered to the ground, when mid-stoop he realized it merely belonged to the trash king. Well, nevermind that, then, Harland thought to himself.

"I fear I can't sign up until I've got kitten in tow," Harland explained. He didn't seem like he was in a hurry to be anywhere in particular. He was more or less content with whatever. There was a reason he hadn't brought his leather armour to display today: in the warmth, and with the crowds, he didn't really intend on being around terribly long. Better just to bring something easily packed away, especially now that he had to register with the scribe.

He led the way, and was both amused and horrified to see that Crispin and Alastair appeared to dislike one another immediately. A smile spread across Harland's face slowly, and a glint flickered across his eyes. As he advanced towards Alastair to snag his hand and brush his lips on his knuckles in greeting (Harland was fond of such strange greetings, traditions that should have been long dead) in his slow drawl, he replied: "Travesty; I do love the rain."

The beginnings of a scowl marred Harland's otherwise brilliant expression; he began to protest, indignant, when he remembered that this was how all their arguments seemed to start, and he just sighed heavily and gave up. "Let's start these introductions over," Harland suggested, mustering a smile again. "Crispin Waldergrave, this is my dear-- uh-- ... very good friend? Alastair," Harland looked at Alastair with a pleading expression: How the hell do I introduce you? "And dear Kitten, this is a new aquaintance, I suspect he is an armorsmith: Crispin is his name."

Harland just smiled at both of them, pretending that they hadn't just been introduced, re-introduced and then had their names thrown around like it was going out of style. He'd be damned if he was going to let them be enemies! "Kitten, I wanted to drag you to sign up with me," he explained.

Staring at Alastair expectantly with his stupid smile all across his face, it took Harland a moment to remember something; he snapped his fingers, and then slid them into one of his pockets, producing a card. "I found these in a trail on the ground; would you care for it? I acquired an extra just in case," Harland asked, offering it to Alastair.

Arynek noticed that the boy, Rei, was looking at the card she picked up and then quickly shifted his attention to the cats snuggling around her legs. Is it possible that he got one too....? She tilted her head a bit, that's a quirk that you will observe when she was thinking. Talking about space-out, she tended to do so when she was thinking, so she totally understood.

"I totally understand that, Rei. I sometimes do that too." She gave some soft chuckles. It's happy to meet someone who shared similarity. "I am Arynek, nice to meet you. I own a small stall selling accessories with jewel design. Would you mind we move to sit on the bench over that?"

As they settled down on the bench, she spoke again. "Oh an informant! Is that mean you visited around all the other kingdoms? I was thinking of which kingdom I should go for my shadowing but I really had no idea...." She picked out the pouch with the tiny gemstones and showed Rei. "I was about to decide that by the color of the gemstone I draw from the bag when one of them rolled away. That's why we bumped into each other, I wasn't paying attention around while you spaced out." She finished the sentence with another light laughing.

"So- have you decided which kingdom you will visit?" She was interested in which kingdom the boy would pick.

[Entering: Sinclair]

He was late. Sinclair had been planning his entrance into Market Day for the past week, and to show up like this -- his arms overflowing with his wares as he dragged them to his stall, without the ceremony he had so carefully designed -- was completely undignified. But his excuse was understandable, he assured himself. He had overslept; last night, he toiled away for hours in his zeal to make his stall as attractive as possible. Bright curtains in resplendent shades draped across the sides, and many glimmering trinkets dangled from the awning. Sinclair's eyes lit up as he gazed upon his handiwork.

There was nothing else quite like it. His stall wouldn't have looked out of place in the Gold Kingdom.

... But he wasn't in the Gold Kingdom anymore.

Sinclair's shoulders sank. In the Silver Kingdom, this was painfully, garishly out of place. How could he have forgotten? He had only just returned from shadowing the Gold Kingdom -- but a week was long enough to reacquaint himself to his home country. He was a performer. He was adaptable. He prided himself on that very ability, and knew without doubt he was good at it, but perhaps by a little too much. This wasn't the first time he had come home feeling so strangely, unacceptably lost. It was unprofessional.

Sighing, he unloaded his cargo, and set himself to arranging his wares. It was a motley collection: various foodstuffs, books, tiny trinkets crafted of gold, silver, and crystal, alchemized potions with effects Sinclair wasn't entirely certain of, clothes and accessories woven from bright cloth he had been horribly tempted to keep for himself, and a couple of objects Sinclair couldn't quite identify, but was fairly certain someone would want. Sinclair had studied many skills, and thought himself to be agreeable in most of them; in reality, he was mediocre at best, laughable at worst, and his ever-changing research never gave him time to master any one in particular. Perhaps it was his food that displayed slightly more ability than the rest, but on Market Day, his books (closer to "informational packets", really) sold well.

He stepped back, gazing at his inventory with pride. His eyes darted up to the decorations. As pretty as they were, he really should take them down.

Rolling up the sleeves of his tunic, Sinclair tugged on one edge of the curtains. It came tumbling down to his feet, and as he bent to pick it up and fold it, he noticed something strange just beneath his boot...



"A card?" He picked it up and inspected both sides. It was incomprehensible, and a glance at the marketplace didn't give any immediate clues as to who dropped it. Doubting anyone would miss it, Sinclair pocketed it and resumed the task at hand.

Minutes passed as Sinclair slowly unveiled his stall. Without the glamour, it was considerably plainer -- he beat back the instinct to think of it for the worse. It was acceptable, now.

Surely this would attract more visitors! He enjoyed conversing with his fellow countrymen, often plying them for details about their visits to other Kingdoms and then regaling them with stories of his own, but today, he overheard gossip of a decidedly more sinister variety...



Which King could they mean? They couldn't possibly be referring their King... who was, now that he thought about it, once again absent from the Pedestal. Sinclair pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Still, the scribe was there. Perhaps it was much too soon to leave the Silver Kingdom again -- on the other hand, perhaps another change of scenery would be a welcome distraction...

There was one kingdom he had so long avoided, but today, Sinclair bounded up to the scribe and signed himself up without a second thought.

The White Kingdom of Death. It was as far from the Gold Kingdom as he could think of -- but he could do it, after all. He was adaptable.

((helps if I roll... hang on))
((entering Sayid into the RP))

Smell good, yeah that might be helpful, but it wasn’t as likely to get sold. He could always say it was good for something, like keeping away insects. Bugs were a nuisance everywhere. This girl was a bit easy to read, her disappointment when he rejected the plant was clear as if he had thrown a stone into a calm lake. But like the ripples, her disappointment soon dissipated. There might be something to that tea. “I’ll take some of the healing herbs and the sickness ones, and you are right, making the shop smell good is always a smart option. More customers is more business, right?”

He shrugged about the speculation. “Yeah, I guess. I prefer to concentrate on solid information though.” He followed her gaze to the Huntress, and had an idea of what she was thinking. Those birds would go well with the wine he was trying to sell her, more incentive on her part he figured.

The crash caught his attention, but king Trashman’s yelling didn’t really catch his interest. He was always going on about something. Still when one of the cards crawled across the ground his way, he picked it up, turning it over in his hand. How odd, it looked like a phone number; he put it into the front pocket of his bag. Maybe it would be useful later.


Her next sentence caught his attention and he set the wine on her cart. “Well I’m thinking about heading over now. I’ve been thinking about going to Vegas. I hear you can make it big over there. I might as well check it out right?” his eyes returned to her cookies. “So ready to make that trade?” his stomach growled in agreement.

For once, Davyne had decided not to set up the stall on Market Day. Well, 'decided' was perhaps not the word - 'been forced' might fit better. After a (very) lengthy discussion with her business partner, she had finally consented to forgo manning their stall for the day and instead take a look at the competitors'.

Or at least that was the official version. Unofficially, the golden-haired woman was beginning to suspect that her business partner just did not want her to interact with the customers. And what of it? It was not that she was so terribly uncouth, after all; alright, so it had been said once or twice that she was not the most diplomatic of people, but why would one need diplomacy when attempting to sell a product, anyhow? It made no sense! The customers were there to buy and not to chit-chat, so what did it matter that she tended to cut to the chase?

Nothing, Davyne decided while perusing the wares of the closest stall. It mattered not at all, no matter what old Graven said. She'd consented to giving him an equal share in her business only because of the good things that were said of his business sense, but clearly she had acted in error if the damnable man wouldn't even let her man her own stall! She was the creator of the fabrics on display after all, so did it not stand to reason that she was the one most suited to selling them, as well? Surely she knew more about her work than the old man and the young woman with the terrible blabbermouth ('vivacious', he'd insisted! Vivacious her a** - the girl was a pain to listen to, and that was that) he'd hired to help with the sales.

But she could hardly throw the old man out on his a** at this point; he had an equal share of her business now, and not to mention, the ability to drag her name through the mud should fancy strike him. That was the trouble of hiring someone who kept himself popular with the other traders, she thought. Yet another thing she should have considered before taking him on.
Although... it was true that sales had increased monumentally since they merged. Despite the quality of her work, Davyne had never quite been able to make truly good sales before Graven came into the picture, much less keep regular customers! She'd asked many of the other craftsmen why this were so - surely with the obvious good quality of her fabrics, shouldn't customers be flocking to her? No-one had ever quite given her a straight answer, but all agreed that her work was impeccable. Truly, a mystery if ever there was one.

So she would have to tolerate the old man and his odd ideas for now. For now, because the golden-haired lass had every intention of keeping a firm eye on him and glean his methods from him.

A plan that wasn't working quite as well as she'd have liked, now that she'd been sent away from her own stall. Her own stall! In her distraction, Davyne nearly wandered into a nearby vendor of flowers, who quickly turned the stink eye on her. Thoroughly unimpressed, she stared the brute down until he eventually went red in the face and looked away. Nodding with pleasure, she considered the matter settled and went on her way. As she wove in and out of the crowd, her ears picked up small scatters of conversation. Nothing interesting, the usual chit-chat, until near one small group she caught an interesting snippet -



Well, that certainly sounded ominous. An eyebrow raised ever so minisculely, the golden-haired woman turned towards the cluster from which she'd heard the tidbit, but the small group was already moving on, faces serious and drawn. Obviously they considered this to be grave information indeed and she was inclined to agree, if such a thing was true. It was something to keep in mind, certainly, and perhaps she'd catch wind of more details later - details that could be given to the Archives for a nice little reward.

Eyes and ears alert for more information, it didn't take long for Davyne to catch sight of the little cards being swept into a pile by the Fair Ground enforcers. Nimbly weaving through the crowd to get a closer look, she swiped a card as soon as she was close enough and retreated a bit to take a look at her little treasure. Well. Not much of a treasure at all. Sighing ever so slightly, she pocketed the thing anyhow. One never knew when such things would come in handy in the Silver Kingdom, after all.

Where she would not be staying much longer. It was very nearly time she went out to shadow another Kingdom, as was common. Unfortunately. Had it been up to her, staying in the Silver Kingdom to grow her business would've been her plan of action, but such things as shadowing were to be expected of a loyal citizen, and so she would go.

If she could only decide where to.

Keel was about to join with the crowd again when the sound of clattering items caught his attention. She only watched as the individual picked up their wares as quickly as possible, while leaving behind a trail of cards. Curious, he went over to pick up a card and starting examining it.


Maybe he really should watch where she's headed, instead of focusing on that card. Because as he walked off towards a random direction, she bumped right into another individual by accident. Keel landed on his butt as a result.

Ow. Q A Q