Welcome to Gaia! ::

The caravan came gently across the plains- far more gently than their excursion through the forest. Something, Valelldia supposed, should be done about what seemed to be a wood-element curse that the caravan had upon it. Whenever they ventured too deep into any woodland area, there was almost no escaping it. Too long they had lived trapped amongst the trees- and now, they were all just grateful for the air, the sun, and that the cold winter winds were kind, even as well into the season as it was.

Valelldia had expected to see sights of the Port from a ways off- the trading port was practically an unofficial capital of the continent, as it was so breathtakingly large, and filled with all manner of people from the continent- and beyond. If there was to be a cultural experience to he had, it was here- in the largest single 'city' left standing after the Great Rift.

But she hadn't nearly expected to see signs of the Port from where they were- but surely, the large cacophany of music, brightly colored banners strung from every building, and the outpouring of tents and makeshift camps that spilled over the city's limits and into the plains made it nearly impossible to miss. It wasn't long before Valelldia's caravan came across the first of these encampments- a group of squat, round people with rouge-colored hair and eyes who bustled about with some importance and hurried speech. Valelldia drew WhistleStick to a gentle stop, knowing that the caravan would follow- and called to the nearest of these campers.

"Might I ask you a question, Sir?"

The little man turned his head and blinked a heavy set of eyelids. Valelldia took that as a yes, and continued her heady, low-toned words.

"What is waking up the Port so?"

"Gypsies. You might as well be living underground," the man said, blunt and without apology- but also free of scorn. It was as if he'd stated a simple fact. "It's the first time in a thousand years that the auspicious date to select the new Peror or Peress AND All Saviors Day coincided."

Valelldia was startled. "Today?"

The man shook his head. "Soon."

Valleldia managed to thank him through her surprise, then ha'ed her oxen once more and made her way for the Port, winnowing their way through the encampments and directly into the city. The day that a new Peror or Peress- the king or queen of the realm far to the south- was chosen was rare and special indeed... but to coincide with All Saviors Day, which came about only every hundred years, was stunning. Almost chilling. Valleldia wondered why she had a strange feeling that one of her wagon family would be forever changed by The Choice. Was it fear? Hope? Or prophecy, that gave her these thoughts? She did not know.

[At this point- for another day or so, feel free to make a post, saying that you see people/the excitement, etc- even feel free to walk down next to your wagon, call down to people, etc. I'll fill in who you call to/who interacts with you. ^__^ Also, you can come talk to Val or Oq.]

Aucaman’s fortune had left Mirela more then a little shaken, not only due to the violence that surround its arrival but also for the dark words the Banya had spoken. The young gypsy had never received such dire tidings and hadn’t heard much talk of similar predications from the caravans other birds in the past, although within the recesses of her mind she knew that such troubling predications must have come before now.

With her usually bright countenance now masked with shadows of confusion and fear Mirela secured Bavol’s reins to the lead seat, trusting the steed to follow the wagons before him, and climbed down to walk beside her travelling home - lift Tafari down after her. Awkwardly nestled within her mothers arms, a position that he much preferred now that she was able to hold him, Tafari regarded the approaching port with child like wonder and excitement; making up for Mirela’s seeming obliviousness to the brightly coloured scene and current of giddiness and anticipation that swept over the crowd.

Having decided upon bringing her questions and queries to Oqaia, to save troubling the wagon mother with what might only be petty concerns, Mirela moved silently and swiftly forward - keeping her head lowered and hidden to avoid in sighting concern among her sisters and brothers, especially when many were still coming to terms with the events that had occurred within the forest. Only when she was walking safely beside Blessed Change did the young woman lift her head.

“I am sorry to trouble you my sister” Mirela spoke in a hushed tone, “but I received a rather troubling fortune from Aucaman, one that has left me fearful as to what may lie ahead for Tafari, the caravan and myself”. Pausing to release a shaky sigh, Mirela continued. “Therefore I have come to ask, most humbly, if you are able to shed a greater light on Aucaman’s words. I do not know what the meji can and will reveal, but I wish to know more about what awaits Tafari - will the speaking’s of death and killing touch him?”

"What's going on out there, Mum?" Anezka called to Leshya'e. Climbing onto the bed, she opened one of the windows and watched as they passed the encampments. Her seemingly hypnotized eyes were wide as she watched the people they passed. "Is something special going on where we're going, Mum?" She called out again.

Leshya'e was too concerned with watching the people on either side of the rode, and the children running between herself and Narkri Chooma, to even hear the questions coming from her daughter. But she also had the same thoughts in her head. Having been caught for some long in the woods, she had lost track of so much time and thoughts, or else she too would have been as full of anticipation as all the others.

Irina was riding on the lead seat of Ravenwood, watching as the horses trotted down the street and into Temperanillo. Kalpana was riding happily along in Irina's lap, looking around at the sights and sounds of the busy port city. There were people everywhere, practically flooding the narror roads. There was a brisk salt smell in the air, and Irina welcomed the change in weather and atmosphere.

Now, all she needed to do was find the one who could help her--the one Oscar had called 'Crick'.

Along side the rows of boths in clear view of the huge crowd of people, either new people wandering to take in the sights or city livers shopping for daily goods. Tamlin wanted to be seen by all, her thin purse required her to stay in this mass of humanity and she wanted to make money fast and leave as soon as she could, she had already been stuck here for the better part of a week. Her horse was tethered up to a post nearby with a small bag to hold her few clothes and bare supplies.

She had choosen her position with care, she was aleady 19 and knew she was rather pretty and the sunlight glinting off her short mass of curly red hair and the sea breeze rustling her flowing skirts only made her appear more so. She needed money and she wasnt afraid to use all her tools to get it. she smiled jut her presence was beginning to draw a crowd. she lifted her flute to her lips and began to play.

the melody began as a haunting melody that drew in more people curious about the lovely tune, and as soon as she saw she hada decent crowd she added a more complicated undertone as she sped up and begain dancing along with her music. her charming smile widened and her eyes sparkled at her audience as she danced with more ferver as she heard the coins start flowing to her feet.

Tamlin then noticed that the fringes of her crowd started tunring away. *why* she wondered, my music is certainly not bad. and then she heard the whispering begin among the people.

"a caravan" "gypsies" why are they here?" "do they bring goods?" "will the play or trade?"

Tamlin stopped her music and dancing. *a caravan! they could take me out of here!* was the only thought in her mind. she scooped up her earnings for teh day and deposited them in her purse, untethered Brid, mouted up and rode off in the direction the whispering and pointing led. soon she found the caravan, she dismounted and gave a fourishing bow before addressing the group.

"Ho! friends, I am Tamlin Máire Sorcha, middle child of the Sorcha family proficient in the flute and acrobatics. what brings you to the illustious port town of Tempranillo?"

Baptiste Kirpatsh, a wandering gypsy and trader, had been in Port Tempranillo for some time now. He figures he's exhausted his market and will leave shortly after the festival. His two horses pull Oiled Silence through the crowded market streets. People hastily get out of his way--his two giant mares are not a sight to be trifled with. He catches words on the wind. There seems to be a caravan camped on the edge of town. Intrigued, he decides to try his luck.
He picks a young woman out of the throng of people. She is tainted, but lovely, with cascades of yellow curls and crystalline blue eyes. "Ho there!" he calls to her. "Young lady with the hood!" The crowd had thinned here, so he reins in his horses and slides fluidly down from his leadseat. "Could you tell me where the gypsies I've been hearing whispers of are camped?" He touches one of her tight curls. "If you're as clever as you are beautiful, it should be no trouble, mm?" He hadn't expected to actually come across a gypsy.

[Incase that wasn't really clear...he's talking to Lor. wink ]

Baptiste is a bit startled. So he'd found a gypsy... He smiles charmingly. "I've been looking for a proper caravan for a few months now. I wish to speak to your leader about perhaps joining your number when you have the city." A flash of color at the young woman's waist distracts him momentarily. It's a child, albeit a strangely-colored one. "Well," he says, crouching down and smiling warmly. "Hello there, little one," he says. "This your sister?" he asks, jerking his head to indicate Lorelei. He's skilled in flattery--it's how he wins over his customers. The child is quite lovely, with...three? bright eyes and a charming smile.

Baptiste smiles at Lorelei. "She's as charming as her mother," he says sincerely. He wrinkles his nose when Vanna pokes him, winking at the giggling child.
Baptiste straightens up again. "How thoughtless of me!" he exclaims, taking off his hat and sweeping a bow. "My name is Baptiste Kirpatsh. And meeting your caravan mother would be perfect, thank you. Shall we ride? It would be faster than walking, and I can't very well leave my wagon here." He jumps back up into the leadseat, leaning down to offer assistance to Lor and Vanna.