[Raster Market] Fancy Hats and Hasty Fondling (open)

[Marius]

56th of Spring, 511 AV “Where are the hats? What have you done with the hats?” Marius leaned over a hawker’s table, fanning himself coquettishly. The man, fearing perhaps that he was about to be kissed, leaned back on his rickety stool. “Um, over there,” he replied, gesturing toward the opposite end of the market. Marius raised an eyebrow, licked his lips, and promptly departed with a few words of thanks. A moment later, the stool toppled over with crash. “So much to do, so much to see.” Marius traipsed across the mostly deserted market, a small skip in his steps. He was excited about purchasing a new suit of finery, and perhaps a fancy hat or two. His own garments were looking a bit shabby. Upon arriving in this forlorn outpost, he’d discovered that its inhabitants were more concerned with functionality than style – a travesty that he’d suffered for far too long. It wasn’t just the people here lacked fashion sense, but the fact that since there was such a puny demand for nice things, the Zeltivan trading vessels rarely bothered with shipments of clothes and other baubles. Last night, a ship had docked whose cargo was rumored to include a few bales of the finery that Marius craved so desperately. “Where are they?” he seized a passing man by the collar, his manners forgotten. “What?” “My hats!” Marius wailed. “My preciou- look, a spider!” Momentarily distracted, he didn’t notice as the man broke away from his grip. “Where did he go?” Close to tears, not merely because of this desertion, but also because the spider had climbed out of his reach, he wrung his hands forlornly. And then he saw them. Monstrosities of silk and velvet, with enormous, looping satin bows, bunches of gaily colored feathers, and rich embroidery. Hats, the sign of cultured society in a world quickly running to tawdry excess. “Hatshatshatshatshats!” Wildly squealing with glee, Marius charged toward the shop, caring nothing for the unwary shoppers that were foolish enough to get in his way.

[Naama]

“Really, dolls, there’s no need to follow me. Go run off to mummy! Go, shoo! No, really, leave.” Naama waved off the children trailing after her like a mother goose. They would squeal and giggle and run ten steps before making a very strategic u-turn and attaching themselves behind the halfbreed’s footsteps. There was an audible sigh. “Alright, darlings, let’s play a game, shall we?” Naama turned to address them, bending over to meet their heights, “I count to ten and you run off and hide. I’ll try to find you, but you have to pick a really fabulous hiding spot, got it? And don‘t come out until you’ve been found!” The children nodded in unison. “Good! Here I go.” The halfbreed covered her eyes with her hands, “… One… Two…. Three…” The sounds of children’s footsteps scattering brought a smile to her lips, “Four…. Five….” Naama lowered her arm, smirking, “I need to remember that one.” Naama wasted no time to flee exposure. She found, like most every location she ended up in, her appearance often caused some unwanted scrutiny. But with her graceful swagger she escaped into the bustling streets of the Raster market, where one shop in particular caught her undivided attention. Through the shutters were the most magnificent hats she’d ever seen! Gilded, feathered, fine and gorgeous. She needed to have one… More importantly, she needed to filch one. And it seemed upon her arrival that there was another vivacious fellow enamored with the same article of clothing that so enraptured her. “These are fabulous aren’t they, sweet thing?“ She maneuvered herself between the customers and tables laden with merchandise, eyeing the tricorne shaped hats she picked up over the span of several chimes. Where was Hawkins when you needed him? Distraction was key for making off with someone’s well-earned goods. “Petch.”She cursed.

[Marius]

When it came to the procurement of hats, there was no stopping Marius Mero. He plowed toward the shop like a runaway cart, legs churning madly as he streaked over the cobbles. He wanted those hats. No, he needed those hats, and nothing, absolutely nothing was going to stop him. “Get out of my way!” He screamed at the top of his lungs. Absurdly, a group of children had picked this moment to play one of their games, their laughter turning to tears as Marius showed no mercy. He grabbed at the stringy hair of his nemesis, Mihai, and flung the lad roughly out of the way, then scooped up a smaller girl and flung her, wailing, into a basket of fruit. Hatshatshatshatshats. Marius spun another child around, shoving him into a pile of dung, and slid through a corpulent, red-face man’s legs. Suddenly, the way was free. With another squeal, he leapt to his feet. He rushed for the shop again, only to find that a woman – a tattooed woman, who seemed to be clad only in bones and strips of leather – was casting covetous glances at his precious hats. Marius would not stand for this. He was going to get there before her. The hats were his! His lips curled into a snarl as he sped up, determined to get there before her. “Get away from my HAAAAATS!” He lowered his shoulder as he tackled the woman, wrapping both arms around her waist, the force of his charge carrying them both a half-dozen paces across the cobbles and then through the shutters. The wood splintered on impact, and then he sprawled on top of her amidst a veritable sea of hats. “Oh, my beauties.” Marius tried to touch them, but found that his hands were tangled in the woman’s bones. He couldn’t help but give her a quick fondle and a pinch as he sought, unsuccessfully, to extricate himself. “What splendid breasts,” he remarked, sheer delight causing his animosity to vanish. “What splendid hats!”

[Naama]

That was one way to get into the spirit of a city. Naama had expected a settlement with so little people to resemble one big family. Like the annoying second cousins at a reunion party; where you weren’t really sure if you liked them or not. So it came as a bigger shock to find herself crashing through a shop with a rambunctious man attached to her waist, and an explosion of wood and hats falling all about them. It was chaotic, it was shocking, it was…. Splendid. Of course, that moment of astonishment soon melted into laughter. “You could have just asked for a quick feel, sweetheart, though I really don’t think this would be the appropriate place for debauchery,” She shoved the man off and stood to straighten her garb, countless bangles jingled in a ringing chorus, “Your greeting is the best one yet in this place. Remind me not to get in the way of a Denvali and their hats. Seems to lead to poor health.” She stepped aside for him to peruse and hoard and drool over the merchandise while she grabbed the tricorne hat she’d noticed earlier and placed it snuggly on her head. “You can have all of the rest plus another fondle if I can have this one, what say you?”

[Marius]

“Me? Denvali?” Marius shuddered. “My darling, that is an affront, a slander that wounds the very essence of my being. A Denvali? Tish and pish to that nonsense. Allow me to introduce myself. Master Marius Mero, of the Zeltivan Meros, at your service.” Picking up a hat, he doffed it with a gentlemanly swagger. “We are very discreet,” he added with a sly grin, staring up at her long, statuesque legs. It was an excellent view. He would have liked to stay down there, among the hats, but his impeccable manners demanded that he climb, tittering, to his feet. “Your legs are almost as nice as Astrid’s,” he simpered, hoping she appreciated the compliment. Astrid did have very nice legs. Marius would know, having fondled most of the thighs in Denval. He peered around, clutching a broad-brimmed hat with red and white feathers in his arms, but there was no sign of the shopkeeper. “It appears we are alone,” he said slyly. “What’s your name, m’dear?” Taking a piece of chalk from his pocket, he scrawled a short message on the wall: Marius was here. He was not, of course, listening to anything the woman said to him. Marius spoke constantly, but he seldom listened. Now, as he peered closely at the tricorne, he couldn’t help but cringe. “Oh, no no no – that hat simply does not go with your attire. I would be remiss if I allowed you to depart this shop looking the portrait of a fool. It would be most unseemly.” Marius frowned up at her. “If you have your heart set upon that hat, then we shall have to find you some better clothes. I am certain that my tailor will have all the latest velvets and lace by now, although we shall have to take great care not to have the garment clash with those exquisite tattoos.” Taking a length of measuring cord from his pocket, which he often made use of in the mines, he clucked softly as he began to measure her waist. “Now, now, don’t be such a tease. Ha, those bones tickle!”

[Naama]

“Fine, sweet thing, Denvali you’re not and Zeltivan you are. I always did find Zeltivan’s natural lookers, and it seems they haven’t failed yet.” And Naama? Well, she was naturally distracted sometimes. Especially by anything that was shiny.. Or glittered… or just simply looked expensive. She didn’t catch his compliment but she did notice the convenient absence of the shopkeeper. Was this, perchance, the moment to filch? No, it appeared not. “You may call me Naama, and if you’re insisting on finding me some suitable clothes then I would suggest taking measurements without these garments… I find they hinder a lot of things.” She winked teasingly. “Not to mention you’re ruining my chances to flee with a brand new tricorne.” Naama added, although she doubted he was listening. In fact, she was sure of it. The halfbreed pushed him against a shelf stocked with hats all in disarray and pressed her knee right between his plums. “You’re going to have to be more aggressive than that, Marius,” Naama released him and slapped eight gold mizas on the table for the hat, then exited the now less-than-exquisite shop, “Perhaps you’ll visit me at my room in the Stranger’s Welcome.” She called back with a wave and a grin.

[Marius]

“You’re one of those classy prostitutes, aren’t you?” Marius cocked his head. “I should have noticed that sooner.” He gave a cheeky smile when she spoke of measurements. “Naama, yes that’s a good name for a lady of the night. Nice and short, yet exotic. If I wasn’t so incredibly busy right now, I’d-” He never got the chance to finish his sentence. Naama was shoving him back into a shelf, her knee crushing his plums. Normally, this would have served as the coup de grace, but Marius never reacted as expected. He drew in a strained breath, his knees trembling slightly, and burst into a fit of the giggles. “Oh, you saucy tease,” he managed to say, wagging a finger at Naama as she left the shop. It was right then, of course, that the shopkeeper entered through the back door. He looked from the broken shutter, to the jumble of hats on the floor, to the note scrawled on his wall, and finally at Marius, his face reddening, eyes bulging from their sockets. “What are you doing?” “I was engaged with a prostitute,” Marius grinned. “By the way-” “Puh-puh-pros..titute?” Now the shopkeeper was confused. “Do you have the hiccups?” “What the-” The shopkeeper scarcely had time to react before Marius, having perked up, tried to bend him over the counter so he could start thumping on his back. “GET OUT!” Marius couldn’t argue with that. “Be a good man and sent the bill to my lodgings,” he said, ducking the club that whistled as his head, and scurried out the door. This day was proving quite entertaining.