Closed contemptuous

[Chiaja]

fall 42 512av ❤ contemptuous ❤ the pavilion "Muna, why are they being mean to us?" It was the first time she had actually gone out with Kassret in public any further than a few blocks. Every snicker, every glare that she hadn't noticed before now ushered a red blush to her cheeks. "Not us, kuseret. Me." The smell of thick perfume clogged her nostrils, and it was only after Kassret begged her to take her to the Pavilion did she give in and bring her. She even recognized some people from the Crowning of Leth, but she knew they didn't recognize her. They couldn't. All anyone had seen was her True form, and all they saw now was her Mortal form. "Why? Because you are Chaktawe?" Even at a young age she knew all about Eypharian racism. But Kassret knew a lot of things, and nothing seemed to escape her gaze. "But you aren't Chaktawe." "Yes, but they don't know that..." She trailed off when she saw what she was looking for: seeds. Kassret wanted to plant flowers, and Chiaja couldn't refuse.

[Ifran]

It was not unheard of for a nobleman to walk the Pavilion, and Ifran had a keen eye for things of beauty. This was his goal today, as well: beauty. There were florists here, and he was seeking strange new breeds of orchid that might have come about as a reaction to the djed storms. The Pavilion was busy and dirty, so his feet were bound up in boots, his body covered in a sherwani coat. There were poor people here too, and one did not want to risk contamination. The son of the North Wind breezed through the tents and awnings, a bodyguard following at a respectful distance, ready to kill any who might threaten the young lord. "Ah," he said, voice resonant with the timbre of a trained musician. His blue, kohl-lined eyes had fallen upon a delicate thing, new to him and delightful.

[Chiaja]

She had managed to convince the girl that seeds would be too difficult for her right now, and that she should get an already grown plant. And Kassret had decided on a plant - red poppies. She had to have red poppies, and a few seconds of surveying the tents and stalls, she saw them, right next to some lovely orchids. "Kass, they're right over here. Come on." But Kassret was now rooted to the spot, not moving in the direction Chiaja had been pointing. She gave her a questioning glance. "Muna, do you see him? Look." Kassret's voice was almost a whisper. "See who?" "It's a nobleman!" Chiaja sighed. Of course she would get excited to see a noble -- she's rarely seen them before. Nobles never went anywhere near the Pillars of Dust, and if they did, she hadn't noticed. "Yes, kuseret. Would you like to buy your poppies, now?" She half-led, half-dragged Kass to the poppies. When she was closer, though, she recognized him. Ifran. She had met him at the Crowning of Leth, but of course, he wouldn't recognize her. She was a Chaktawe now, and she was an Ethaefal then. She forced herself to keep her breath from hitching. "I like those flowers better, Muna. The orchids."

[Ifran]

The orchids, of course, were kept under glass bells, the better to keep the grubby hands of the poor off of them. This vendor was not just some purveyor of cheap cut flowers for the street sellers, but of a precious and delicate commodity. Oh, there were things priced for the less than wealthy; the market was too delicate as well to put all one's eggs in one basket. A rare orchid might sell for enough to live on for a year, but should one invest in something that doesn't sell or, worse, dies, that was a great deal of potential income down the drain. Kelwyn played a large role in the successes and failures of this merchant, who ignored the Chaktawe and her companion in favor of Ifran, who smiled politely at his hyperbolic statements while perusing the merchandise.

[Chiaja]

"Kuseret, let's go look at the poppies instead." She attempted to usher Kassret away from the orchids, but to no avail. Instead, she started to throw an even bigger fit. "Chiaja, I want an ORCHID!" She bit her lip, almost drawing blood. Kass never used her real name -- it was always 'muna' or even 'minre' when she was angry. She had never witnessed a full-blown Kassret tantrum, and she was about to get front row tickets. And so, apparently, was everyone else in their surrounding area, Ifran included. "Shh, dear, they're too expensive." Maybe she should have paid more attention to the Chaktwe mothers who calmed their children in a few words, but now, she didn't know how. "I don't CARE! I WANT ONE!" She stomped her foot indignantly, attempting to reach up and grab one of the orchids. All she accomplished was her hand being swatted away harshly by the merchant. Chiaja could feel the heat rising to her cheeks. Her face felt redder than Tatsuwaat paint, and she knew everyone else could see it. Many inquiring eyes might think that Chiaja was just a slave here to take out a rich child to buy things, but her mention of the orchids being 'too expensive' and the fact that she was dressed much more nicely than any normal slave was enough for suspicions to be aroused.

[Ifran]

Ifran's half-turn was as elegant as a dancer's pirouette, which it might have been were he on stage. He might argue that all the world was a stage, but he rarely argued. An eyebrow, dark as a raven's wing, rose as if in flight, eloquent in its curiosity. He might have been irritated or amused for all his pleasant social mask gave away. "Is there a problem, little one?" he asked, his voice expertly pitched to be soothing. Such was the training of a semhu performer, and the total control of body and voice. He was used to entertaining adults, but he might just be able to charm a little girl.

[Chiaja]

He hadn't recognized her voice, which was good. It didn't change with her shifting, so that must have indicated that had been long enough from when they first met to now. Long enough. It didn't matter to her, though; she was trying to get there as soon as possible, and accepting 'help' from this Ifran wouldn't achieve that goal. She was about ready to drag Kassret by the hair, or simply leave her in the Pavilion. But she didn't. "Nothing is wrong, Hejdw Ifran. I think we are leaving now..." She spoke through gritted teeth, her lips barely moving and her voice barely audible to anyone who wasn't within a few feet. But Kassret was insistent. "Yes, Hejdw! Chiaja won't buy me one of those pretty flowers, and I want one!" Chiaja sighed. At least the girl had gotten her titles right, but she was still using her real name instead of 'muna'. Did she want Ifran to recognize her?

[Ifran]

If the voice had not been familiar, he would have recognized the name. Yet that name had belonged to an Ethaefal who had been present at the Crowning of Leth if memory served, and his always did. Well, he had known Ethaefal before, had even plucked one out of the storm-tossed waves of the Suvan to nurse back to health like a premature birth. There were some whose exalted forms were merely perfected versions of their earthbound ones, and there were those whose selves were quite different, indeed. This was not the ethereal daughter of Leth, but a copper-skinned Chaktawe savage. Well, if she was good enough for Leth... But then, if she was good enough for Leth, she would remain in the Ukalas. "How now?" he asked, all concern. Then he smiled at Chiaja. "That is a shame, but fare well."

[Chiaja]

"Make her buy me one! She gets all pretty at night but she won't even let me get a flower!" Was this girl trying to get sympathy? From a noble? At the moment, all that really ran through her head was 'Shutupshutupshutup.' No, no, no. She didn't want to be recognized as an Ethaefal. Was it too much to say that she was ashamed when she shifted to an awful Chaktawe form? Her life at night and her life at day should never be linked, in her opinion. But it was like Ifran was giving her a free pass to leave and completely forget this entirely embarrassing moment at the Pavilion. But Kassret wouldn't let her. "Can you buy one for me?" Kassret blinked her big green eyes. She was trying to act adorable, of all things. As if she wasn't a screaming terror a few moments before. And asking a noble to buy her something! If she wasn't only four, Chiaja would have sworn that the girl should have known better.

[Ifran]

Ifran did not -- so far as he knew -- have any progeny of his own, but he knew that such behavior would not have been tolerated when he was the girl's age. In fact, he had not been so very much older than her when he began his apprenticeship with an old master of the noble art of semhu. "The second attempt was superior to the first, kuseret," he said calmly. "One must remember her superior lineage which ought preclude temper tantrums. They are not dignified." His words tip-toed out of his mouth like choreographed dancers, each in proper position in the proper time. "What do you think you could give to Mistress Chiaja that would earn such a pretty gift," he asked, "especially after you have identified her, which was clearly something she would have preferred to keep a secret? Does she tell strangers your secrets?" His honeyed logic ought make sense to a child, at least. An adult might sense danger there, but his smile was jovial enough.