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(( Tesla - by Ornamental Stalls || Nolan - Flower Stall ))


If the farmer's daughter was at all aware of the social gap between herself and Caelan, she made no show of it, simply watching him in a polite manner that suggested she was not even remotely used to dealing with those who used a language beyond what was spoken. "I suppose to each their own," she replied carefully, remembering the man's look when she'd first seen him: if ever there was a I do not want to be here expression, 'Mr. Huntsman' had worn it with shining colors.

"Ah, but only those who have experience with them would hear that and think they were real, friend," Tesla remarked with a coy glance. "Any other would think it was some gaudy angel costume, no doubt. That, or be too gullible to be a threat." She might have been raised as simple as a farmer can be, but she was by no means stupid enough to endanger a child by careless words. The reply to her own teasing question earned a loft of brow and curious purse of lips, either not following the insinuation or not being insulted enough by the idea of a gay relationship to be embarrassed by it. She crossed her arms outside of her fur-collared cloak, settling her weight into one side of her hips and tilting her head in the way a mother might give their child a 'you ought to know better' look; it was well practiced at that, given how many sisters she'd helped raise. "I think that's more brazen than claiming to see a child with wings," she responded with a soft drawl, clearly bemused by the entire situation.

And it was at the curious tone in his voice - despite the confession to having a bottle-born of his own - that the red-head drew her own line of morals. "Come now. If we're going to discuss that, at least give me your name, friend. It's one thing to sugar-coat Mr. Huntsman, but discussion of that is of a more personal nature, don't you think?" Insinuating a gay relationship? Checking out what a girl was looking with? Perfectly acceptable. But to talk about her dragon without knowing to whom she was speaking? Not a chance.


The dragon watched the man correct his grip, offering a low sound between a scoff and a chuckle, though it was less friendly, if not a bit prideful. "Good thing I'm not a gentle-man, then," was his easy response, returning the shake with a brief nod, turning his attention back to the flowers. But something odd happened: Eli continued to talk about the ribbon-clad gifts, and Nolan's faint smile disappeared entirely. When the man was finished, he turned his blue eyes upwards and said in a manner that was almost tired, if not guarded, "Why does everything have to be so weird with you guys?" He meant humans, of course, but he very rarely clarified out loud. Not many took him seriously as it were. "It's a flower -- it's pretty. Why isn't that good enough?" The boy would never understand why humans insisted upon putting their stain on the world's bounty. It was almost insulting, the way they had to put meaning and their own perverse twist on the natural world.

Frowning, he followed Eli's indication, shaking his head and looking back to the flowers without a concern in the world. "When she's mad, she says she can hog-tie me in five seconds, and I believe her. She can deal with a guy like that." He was, of course, being judgmental of the smile that seemed too wide and body language that was both forward but withdrawn; then again, he read things differently than most humans did by default. It the man was a threat, he had no doubt his caretaker could toss her cider in his eyes and teach him a thing or two.

{{  Eli- Flower Stall  }}

Eli watched the unfolding drama between Tesla and the gaudy man curiously. If there was one thing Nolan was right about, it was Tesla's self-sufficiency. As he watched, Eli wondered whether most people knew how much they gave away with simple gestures, head tilts, the best of body language. Even though Eli was not the brightest when it came to people (by any stretch of the imagination), he could catalogue the little movements in his head. Each spoke as much as several words.

Tesla was steadfast, a rock in her stance, her tilted head charming. Eli couldn't see her face; he wondered idly what they were talking about. The icy wind nipped the words from their mouths and sent them flying far. He imagined them flowing along the lines of her windblown hair, stroking it in silver and then floating high, forced the journey far. Perhaps the wind could carry their speech south, past the unending sea. He shook himself. That was not a comforting thought. He was being fanciful again anyway. The man was more varied in expression. Eli had never made a habit of people watching, but this man had a fascinating array of expressions, like watching multiple people each speak through one man. Eli startled when the man slanted a glance over at him. No, not at him, at Nolan. Interesting. Maybe he was another who held a glass-born child. But, oh, any chance was lost as the man bowed and left. Eli turned back to Nolan, mulling over one of the young boy's odd comments.


"Not a gentleman?" Nolan's various phrasings had been odd choices, to say the least. 'You guys' could mean  anything from adults to just other people in general, but it seemed to carry a faint sense of alienation wavering about it, a banner of not-belongingness. "I would say it's very gentlemanly to pick up something beautiful for a friend. Being a gentleman is not about what you are, but what you do." Eli pressed on; the boy's blue eyes were vaguely unnerving, piercing. They were older than they should be in one still so young. He wondered what things the boy had seen to make his gaze so.

Eli tilted his head. "The flowers... weird? I suppose it is." he conceded, looking down at the blooms in question. Eli was no expert, his mother had been the gardener in the family, but he couldn't deny the beauty of a flower in winter. Hardy, blossoming where others couldn't. There was definitely emotion and beauty in adversity.  "They are beautiful, but they also tend to evoke a range of emotions. Eventually, each flower had been assigned, for lack of a better word, an emotion that it inspired most. You don't feel it?"

Eli looked up and smiled, a wistful smile, but the youngster had already turned back to the table. Eli sighed and stroked a red bloom with the pads of his fingers, the velvety drag sending a thrill down his spine. 

[[ Fakir - Drinks ]]

His hand was seized and Fakir was almost sent reeling backwards. His own hand was soft, yes, for he didn't really use his hands much. Yet. He would when he was older. But they were also cold, and Aric's was not. The sudden touch was frightening at first, but comforting at the same time. Fakir did not do well with heat, it harmed his cold body and would make him become mist. He never liked warmth. However, Amei's hand had always calmed him, always soothed the boys troubled states despite the warm heat. Aric's hand was strange and foreign, but secure. Not only that, but it gently tried to help Fakir leave the chair. It would later shock Amei if he saw this boy holding another's hand. Fakir didn't wrench away, simply nodding quietly (and nervously) as he moved just a bit closer to Aric.

Food? He perked up, eyes flicking about in interest. "Is there anything cold to eat? I don't... really like warm foods." It made him sick, actually, but the dust was not about to admit that to a stranger. Amei had cautioned him to be careful, and he'd listen.

"I... don't have any money, actually." Fakir murmured. He had his jewels, twined into his hair and around his limbs, but that was it. Amei wasn't really well off, he hadn't been able to give Fakir money. It didn't help that Amei spoiled Fakir whenever he got a big haul and would either trade rare fish for the pretty valuables Fakir had or save up to buy him shiny trinkets. Fakir loved these items. He loved beautiful things. He loved decorating himself. But it did drain the budget considerably. Fakir was still far too young to realize this, or he'd ask Amei to stop. Still. Money. Didn't one need money for food? He could try and pay with a bracelet, maybe?

"That's not a problem!" The boy's hand was so cold against his warm ones, the blonde trying to squeeze it in an attempt to warm it, not realizing that Fakir was just normally that way. Touches like this didn't really mean a huge deal to Aric-- he was a physical person, always thinking that any touch was comfortable and secure -- much to the dismay of some. "We can -- get some cold -- uhh, leaves--" He pondered this, wanting to get something for the boy to eat and be content with but honestly, Aric wasn't familiar with everything just yet. But he wanted to appear confident in front of his new friend! He had remembered some cold salads that Elias had tried to feed him one time ---- he didn't like it but it was cold.

The evening fell, it was getting much darker and colder, the boy holding the other's hand tightly and sneaking into one of the food stalls. His brilliant blues brightened up when he saw a small cup of cold salad in one of the tables, smiling towards the long haired child. "Wait here!" And so he finally released the other's hand, moving against the flow of people heading to the fireworks display -- and with a stealthy action he had gotten one of the cups as the merchant had looked away, returning to Fakir with a victorious smile.