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 Posted: Sun Feb 07, 2016 11:48 am
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Damis was unaccustomed to bartering.
More directly to the truth, he was unaccustomed to most anything that involved direct involvement with the merchant class or lower, outside of those that went on in day to day interaction within the palace grounds—which was few and far between. In his younger years, up until the war which ended slavery indefinitely and brought independence for the Matori peoples, his family had owned slaves. After the abolition of that, servants filled similar roles. As such, there had never been any pressing need, or even expectation or opportunity, for him to mingle in the common market.
Things had changed. If he was going to travel about on his own and preach the word of his God, Damis knew that at the very least, simple tasks such as buying his own food and goods would be not only useful, but necessary. And, as he was discovering with frustrating consistency, the practice of dealing with peasants in reality was much more complex than he’d ever previously given it credit for.
“Thirty silvers.” The seller was rotund. Female. Dark in complexion, but fair-haired, for an Oban, her wrapped dreads looking almost more pink than red. Her expression, though, was solid, blank, patient—almost bored.
Damissan frowned. “It’s just a small bag,” he said. “Surely it’s not worth that much…”
“Thirty silvers,” the woman repeated.
“I just saw you sell one larger than this for five,” Damis said, voice pitching a half-tone up in spite of himself. “It can’t—”
“Thirty silvers,” she said. “Or it’s not for sale. Come, boy…” She made no secret of drawing her gaze over him, “…you can afford it.”
A tight exhale slipped from Damis’ lips. “You couldn’t be more blatant if you tried,” he said. “Whether or not I can ‘afford’ to pay thirty does not make it worth thirty. You cannot just—”
“Don’t mistake,” the woman said. “I’ve got all day here to sit in the sun, and only five pouches like that to sell among the rest. Of course, On’os bless, we could barter here half the day and you could try to change my mind, but it just might be worth thirty to you if you’re wanting to buy anything else this afternoon. Bargaining woman that I am, I’m willin’ to take that bet. So it’s thirty silvers, boy, if you’re lookin’ to stare at anything else but my pretty face for the next three phases of the sun.”
Damissan met her stare. He waited, fingers to the edge of her display table. She fanned herself, reaching and swatting a flying insect to its death with a yawn. Rolling his eyes skyward, Damissan reached into his pocket, and dropped three large silver coins — a ten worth, each — onto the table before taking his purchase.
Perhaps one day, he thought, when he looked less apparently like a noble to every person he encountered, bartering would be something he could build a talent for.
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Posted: Sun Feb 07, 2016 1:47 pm
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Unpracticed though he may have been at bargaining, listening was an ever valuable trait—particularly amidst noble circles—and one he’d had ample opportunity to develop over the years. Additionally, far be it from Damissan to not notice a pretty face or figure, even if it was attached to a slave—Matori. Thus, though he did have other things to accomplish that afternoon, his pace slowed as a young man immediately took his place before the stall he’d just vacated: young, fit, full-blooded islander with full, deep green hair and an open shirt.
The deal he struck, however, was the most notable, and in its aftermath, Damissan’s lips twitched to purse. While he was more than used to the class system working for him, watching camaraderie amongst the lower classes play out to his detriment was more frustrating than he’d ever given the thought credit for. Still, he’d intended to walk away without comment, and would have done so—if the Matori had not chosen that moment to turn and look at him, as though he had won something.
Damissan’s dark lashes flit a quarter inch down, and he curbed the instinct to sneer. Surely he had at least enough self-control not to look overtly concerned by the ‘accomplishments’ of a fish, as though that somehow detracted from his own circumstances. Instead, he gave a small, tight-lipped smile.
“Impressive,” he said. “You must know the market.”
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Posted: Sun Feb 07, 2016 2:28 pm
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Posted: Sun Feb 07, 2016 2:48 pm
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“Fortunate for you,” Damissan said, “to have acquired an accomplished teacher. And it sounds as though you are well-suited to the task of rearing, much as you already know of them.” After observing the ease — all but wordless — with which his company communicated with the local vendor, attaining a whetted cloth without so much as asking for it, he tucked his hands, making mental note, and then blinked.
‘Abie.’
Was that…?
His name, Damissan decided after a moment’s confusion. It couldn’t have been much else, and he relaxed the set of his shoulders, his next smile still reserved, but closer to genuine. “Damissan,” he said. “You are a native of this area?”
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Posted: Sun Feb 07, 2016 3:25 pm
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‘I take it this is your first time in the market alone?’
Damissan stifled the instinct to grimace or retort. Granted, it felt like a slight. He wasn’t a child walking about ‘on his own’ for the first time in his life, and he had—at least recently, though this too was admittedly a change—been outside of the palace grounds on his own. Given the full breadth of circumstances, however, bringing this up seemed needless, so he let his ruffled pride lie—with effort—and focused instead on the merit of the conversation.
“It is the first time I’ve attempted to barter, yes,” he said. “I have…decided to take new direction and explore some of the world that I haven’t properly observed for myself. To that purpose, I’ve been shopping…or attempting.”
Truth be told, Damis wasn’t even precisely sure what he actually needed. The only times he’d traveled anywhere had been in carriages, pre-arranged for by his parents or their servants — he wasn’t even clear on that specific — and things seemed to just happen. The more that he attempted doing things himself, however, the more it became apparent that generally speaking, things very much did not ‘just happen’.
It was a learning curve, to be sure.
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Posted: Sun Feb 07, 2016 4:32 pm
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Damissan bristled, barely containing a sputter of immediate objection as heat gathered in his cheeks and his shoulders stiffened. “I didn’t—that’s not what I said at all,” he blurted. “I have done plenty on my own, just not—”
Damissan drew a breath, and released it, letting the words go with effort. He could — again, loathe though he was to think it — use some aid in the matter, and if this Matori proved to be useful, even genuinely helpful then he had no reason to turn the man away. He didn’t mind the company of strangers, far from it, and though he was distinctly unused to dealing on a face to face basis with waterlings, he could consider it an exercise in expanding his borders and comfort level.
“Cook ware…” he repeated, his attention hanging up on that item in particular. “I’ve not—” He paused, realizing halfway into the sentence that, ‘I’ve never started a fire in my life, will I really need to cook something? Surely I can buy the food cooked…don’t you usually buy the food cooked?’ likely sounded naive at best. “Cooking,” he said again instead, and then cleared his throat. “I suppose that’s…it could be useful. And a tent.”
Nevermind that he’d never spent a night in a tent in his life, let alone set one up. Perhaps he could stay at inns perpetually.
“Have you traveled much yourself?”
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Posted: Mon Feb 08, 2016 2:40 pm
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‘I'm sure if you asked, your parents or another elder you trust could take you out as well.’
Admittedly, Damissan had never been an especially patient man. It was something he was well aware of and knew that he needed to work on exercising more frequently. Temperance. Patience. Civility. He had, however, for all the first twelve years of his life, been raised in an environment where the only blue faces he saw were those that knew and respected their place in life—or were severely disciplined for failing to. Thus, while he understood they were a ‘free’ people now, there were distinct limits to his tolerance, and the waterling’s insistence on speaking to him as though he were an infant needing parental supervision would have been blatantly insulting regardless of the man’s race.
“Surprising as this may be…” he said at length, tempering his voice to the greatest extent possible towards a civil and even tone, “…I am actually beyond the age of requesting adult guidance or permission to go out—because I am one. I…” The words were egregiously difficult to push from his lips, but he managed it, “…thank you, however, for your earnest…attempt…at being helpful.”
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Posted: Tue Feb 09, 2016 6:39 am
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