Free Wyvern Rides

Featuring: Aziz, Charon, Gaiava, Jasmine, Jyoti, Kekipi, Leioni, Maat, Naiadre, Nikare, Varad, Zeyd
Date: June 29, 2004
IC Date: February 19, 3930
Summary: During a Varati festival one of the attractions is free rides on a Wyvern, the Varati's fearsome dragon-like steeds.

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Northern Bridge - Pons Pactum
Embodying the peace and joining of two peoples that Parnassus was meant to be in its rebuilding, Pons Pactum crosses the gap between the cliffs cut by the Mahpe River. An engineering marvel, the bridge is built with golden yellow river stone and traverses the estuary at a modest height. Riverboats can pass below, but the more massive ocean-going vessels are kept to the east.

A wide road cuts towards the center of the bridge, with the shops and homes of those from the Bridge Guild lining the way. A few eke their way out onto the bridge itself, but only the most successful merchants or tradesmen can afford the shops closest to the bazaar, leaving most others to set up stalls or tents. Low and solid rails twist along either side in a Shaped pattern of twined knots, pleasingly aesthetic but also protective of the unwary venturing close too the edge.

Situated at the northern end of Pons Pactum is the Bridge Guild headquarters, housing those concerned with the mutual aid and protection of the resident merchants. The road rises steeply up the hill to reach Irha-Esh while its welcoming arm stretches south towards the bazaar and Parnassus. The bridge is guarded by a squat stone tower that casts a watchful eye on traffic below.

Before Souk al'Samar, the wooden fencing encloses...nothing. Though the signs proclaim, to those who can read, "Free Wyvern Rides," no animals are located within the pen. Between the pen and the closest stalls are large, roughly rectangular space has been left open for performers. This, too, is currently empty. Also on the side of the bridge by Souk al'Samar, a cluster of clan members stand around a large metal kettle from which bubbles some liquid with chunks of white root and the tangy scent of exotic spices. One Varati woman holds a ladle, her minions hold cheap wooden bowls, indicating that some sort of food service is available. It is by these people that the Qadi of Clan al'Samar stands. She gives one of the bowl-holding minions a poke and the minion shouts out, "Free soup!"

From the central bridge area, the Head Priestess of the Atleantean's Pasiphaean Temple strolls along, pausing as she nears the gathering crowd before the empty Wyvern pens. Naiadre pauses to look behind her, waiting for someone. In this case, it's her daughter, Leioni.

Kekipi exits the Bridge Guild's Head Quarters, his arms folded against his chest. Given the look upon his face, anything that draws the crowds to the Bridge does not go down at all well with the Head Troll. Still the usual patrols are keeping an eye on matters, roving patrols composed of various races bantering amongst each other and looking somewhat Trollish. As for Kekipi, silent he remains, content to watch the Varati entertain, feed and keep the attention of the throngs of customers, visitors and passersby to the fair.

A trio of young boys present a tumbling act at the far end of the bridge - they attempted to perform on the north bridge itself, but their uncle prohibited it. Aziz, the uncle in question, was set up in a half-tent as brightly colored and embroidered as the people sitting in it chatting amongst themselves, tuning their instruments to the cold. There is not as grand an appearance of the Nor Clan as there was at the festival, but on a low stand in front of the musicians there was a fine display of flutes and two vinas for sale.

Zeyd lounges on the stone of the bridge surface, his broad back fetched up against the dragon statue at the Souk al'Samar's entrance. Near him stands a lanky, grubby-looking mongrel man, discernable as a mercenary only by the fact that he wears a sword. The two do not converse; Zeyd scans the crowd quietly through queer, mismatched eyes, his potent arms crossed over his chest.

The soup in the kettle shades from orange to red, suggesting that carrots, tomatoes, or red peppers are part of its components. Or, perhaps, it is colored such due to the gross of hot spices which inhabit its depths. The white chunks of root are easily identified as taro by those with culinary experience.

Some mongrels, the thin bits of cloth hugging their bodies suggesting poverty, have already lined up before the soup kettle. They each accept a bowl of soup. Steam rises up from the liquid, trying to escape before inhalation.

It's not unusual for Leioni to be late, but in this case she has a legitimate excuse. It is against the Tanists orders for Atlantean children to come onto the bridge alone, and the girl respects and almost fears Annan Cal too much to disobey him, even to meet her mother. It was a problem she'd overlooked when she agreed to meet Naiadre at the fair instead of going to the bridge with her. And so she arrives a good five or ten minutes later than the Head Priestess, accompanied by a female Atlantean in her twenties who sees Leioni to her mother's side and then departs to view the fair on her own. The ragged-haired teenager grins at her mother, the smile and her bouncy step betraying her excitement at being here. It's so interesting! There's so many people! She especially likes the tumblers, who she spots from a distance and points to.

A cheerful tune starts up from the musicians. They are mindful, after speaking at length to the wyvern handler, of what tunes they might play and what ones they best stay away from. The flutes begin to fade and Aziz begins to strum on his vina.

Charon weaves through the crowds, dark cloth closed tight and arms tucked into one another. He seems withdrawn, wary of contact, and of unsure foot--not that this boy is not accustomed to solid ground beneath his toes, but a long absence from the soil-dwelling has taken it's toll on him. After all, Tanist rule makes visitation into a burden. Eyes drift back and forth as people trod from attraction to attraction, and each of them is met with lowered brow and narrow eye.

A giant parting of the crowd betrays the arrival of the main attraction. An animal handler wearing the colors of Clan al'Samar comes forth; on a chain he leads a dark wyvern. Its hide has been rubbed and shine a glossy hue that holds many shades, though black is the predominate color, or lack of it. The long neck twists, the tail lashes, and the red eyes spark, making a single animal seem like a herd. However, one is enough to separate the crowd like the sea before the prow of a ship.

Kekipi decides to step forth, to mingle amidst the people. Though his stony expression barely alters one jot, though his one hand does seem to settle warmly upon the hilt of his shortsword. With the pommel grasped he settles and no doubt feels a little more at ease as he takes to meandering about the stalls, finally coming to stop before the soup stall, "A bowl of soup, it smells odd but...", a gruff request at least, although his palate no doubt extends little beyond a most simple fare indeed.

As the wyvern moves forward, Naiadre moves back, reaching out to put a hand on her daughter's shoulder before the teenager can move towards the soup bowl. Both of them had been eyeing it, but the wyvern draws Naia's attention like nothing else could and her breath catches in her throat as she moves back.

The slosh of liquid against wood sounds as the ladle empties its hot contents. The wooden bowl is handed to Kekipi, but no money is asked. It is free, even to a Troll. "Namaste," says one of the soup minions to Kekipi. Unfortunately for the Atlantean, the reddish contents are indeed colored by cayenne pepper and the oilish essence of several different chilies. Wonderful for warming people on a cold day such as this.

Zeyd's blue-pale eye shifts to the Atlanteans in the evening crowd, his heavy brow furrowing in mild surprise at their attendance. Still, this is nothing to stir him from his seat; one great shoulder goes up fractionally, and his gaze passes on to the approaching drake. A faint, peculiarly pleased smile works across his ill-favored lips.

Leioni is really more interested in soup than the Wyvern. Despite innate suspicion to strange foods, she enjoys new experiences. Not that seeing a wyvern isn't a new experience, but it's going to be here for a while, right? While the soup is likely going to disappear quickly! Impatient, the teenager tugs at her mother's sleeve and steps towards the soup pot, wanting to get to it while people are distracted by the leathery-skinned beast.

Naiadre exhales a sigh and lets Leioni go with a roll of her eyes. "Teenagers," She mutters aloud to a nearby Sylvan woman with two young children of her own. The Sylvan only nods sagely.

The tumblers come from no where. Three Varati boys ages 6, 10, and 13 respectively, come crashing through the crowd. The youngest of which pauses to stare at the Atlanteans, giving them a crooked smile before cartwheeling and catching up with his elder brothers. "Lookit! It's a Wyvern!" "You've seen one afore. Move over so I can get a glimpse." Push. Shove. PUSH.

The wyvern stretches against the chain that holds it at bay, obviously wish to stretch out and tongue the fractious creatures which surround it, their motions exciting it. The animal handler continues to walk steadily forward, like a boulder rolling down hill -- implacable.

The queen of the soup is glad to serve Leioni a hot, spicy sample of Varati broth, with its starchy taro root chunks. A splash and the level of the kettle falls again, but Leioni is given a bowl and a pleasant, "Namaste" by one of the soup minions.

Kekipi glances to the soup, then to Leioni who is offered a gruff and curt nod. Clearly the thoughts of the Troll rest with the soup, needing little to keep him warm in the winter he surely begins to wonder if this is such a good idea. But still he takes a mouthful and swallows, then another and indeed another. It is then that he stops as his darkly tanned features flush if such a thing is possible and for the first time this winter, beads of sweat flicker upon his brow, "Egads...", a deep breath offered so swiftly.

The teenaged Atlantean girl releases her mother and starts towards the soup pot with a nod and a smile to her mother, response to some unvoiced request. Leioni pauses as the tumblers cross her path, bowing her head and murmuring, "Pasiphae's Blessings," at the one who smiled at her. She is doing her best to be as perfectly polite as she can manage, but the effort is likely lost on the Varati boys. Rolling her eyes with slight disdain, Leioni steps on to the pot and accepts her bowl cheerfully. Rather than walk away immediately, she hovers close until she attracts attention again. "One more?" she asks, voice loud and ever-so-slightly demanding.

"No fair! Wanna see!" With a yank of an arm, Vindri finds himself standing on his eldest brother's shoulders so he can get a good look at the wyvern. A Really Good Look. "Put me down! Put me down!" He cries and as soon as his feet hit the bridge, he is racing towards the musicians and into his mother's arms, ending whatever tune they were playing.

Aziz takes this opportunity to get soup.

Zeyd pats the mongrel mercenary on the side of the leg with his hook, and when the other looks down, nods in the direction of the wyvern and its handlers. The grubby figure breaks a grim smile. Words are exchanged between man and master, but they are lost in the noise of the crowd.

The soup queen shakes her head at Leioni. "One bowl per customer," she declares. The soup minion makes shooing motions at Leioni and the others behind the Atlantean girl begin to make noise. "Get going. There are people waiting here."

Kekipi cradles his bowl within one thickly webbed hand as he moves off to take a breath or two. His other hand tugging at the collar of his Royal Blue tunic, "This is why I stick to raw fish and pastries.", he mutters, pastries being his new vice for the time being as opposed to the wives of those men that end up arrested apparently. A heated nod to a Troll patrol that passes by and Kekipi moves off to the edge of the bridge to take a few moments to cool as he dabs at his brow with the back of his free hand.

There would be little reason to notice yet another young imphada, dressed in the bright colors that the Varati seem to favour. Thus Jyoti is able to make a quiet entrance to the area, merging with little fanfare into the ebb and flow of the crowd. She sidesteps a clump of laughing shudra who are passing back towards the gates of Irha-Esh and then begins to make her way towards the pen where the wyverns are being kept. Who can resist a chance to get a close look at the gentle and docile beasts of al'Samar?

The soup woman's refusal irritates Leioni. She doesn't budge, setting her jaw stubbornly and narrowing her eyes. Upon observing the Troll's reaction to it, she isn't so sure she wants to risk it herself, but now that she's been refused... well, she simply must have her way. "S'for my mother," she sniffs, gesturing backwards at Naiadre, who is distinctive enough with her head of blue hair.

Eyeing Kekipi for a moment, Naiadre leaves her spot to draw closer to Leioni, her quiet soprano chiding lyrically. "Lei, come away. They've many other mouths to feed and we can share that bowl. It'll probably be too much for us as it is."

The soup queen points at the line, which is only growing longer behind Leioni. "She can get in line, herself," the soup queen declares. The line behind Leioni is only becoming rowdier.

Aziz waits a few people behind Leioni in line, frowning at the young woman. To his neighbor, he casually comments. "I am glad that our women are more respectful. Although in my travels I have found Atlanteans to be more... like us."

Charon stops, mid-crowd, surveying passerbys with an analytical gaze. He receives bits and pieces of verbal babble: children and parents arguing, friends jesting, and the music hanging in the cool air. A long exhale passes his lips, and he relaxes, arms falling to his sides. Soup? Soup. Something in the ol' tank should help him relax, so the black-haired teenager takes to the line to grab a bowl.

Varad steps in from Irha-Esh.

Leioni is, quite obviously, furious. She glowers with all of the ferocity she can muster with her pale eyes and stiffens her spine, imagining herself to look intimidating and haughty. Unfortunately, she looks more like what she is: a ridiculous little Atlantean kid too small for her temper. It's lucky her mother intervenes, for Leioni is about to do something drastic. Maybe fling the bowl of spicy soup back at the people who spoon it out. Maybe just stomp her feet and shout. Whatever the action, it is suppressed with effort, and with an icy nod and murmured, barely audible apology, the girl steps out of line to stand near her mother.

"Its like a mouthful of fire...", Kekipi states to a fellow Troll who comes up beside him to ensure the Head Troll isn't about to require a replacement after twenty five years loyal service, "...only without the painful blisters and searing of flesh.", his gruff voice a little breathless and wheezy as he chokes back a few tears, "Perhaps my palate isn't quite as suited or refined...but...its good stuff, clears the eyes...and nostrils.", dammit, Kekipi intends to consume the entire bowl, its a pride thing. A man thing. Another mouthful taken and another. Beads of sweat glistening upon his brow marking the rate of success of his endeavour to combust upon the bridge.

Honey-dark eyes slide in the direction of the line and so Jyoti takes in the slight commotion occurring there involving the Atlanteans. And... soup? If one looked closely, they might see her mouth siezed with a suspicious twitching, as if she were struggling valiantly with a smile -- a smile soon hidden by the lifting of one hand, under the guise of coughing softly into her fist. The girl moves on then, uninterested in food. She will see the beasts and -then- concern herself with other things. "Ohh." Look. Lots of teeth. Of course... she can see the firedrakes just fine while standing well back from the fence holding them in.

Once Leioni is out of the line, the soup queen starts ladling out to the others in line, such as Aziz and Charon. The minions are serving briskly, handing out each bowl with a chirpy Namaste. As the level of the soup kettle drops, even the steam is able to bring tears to the eyes.

Nikare steps in from Irha-Esh.

It took a bit of time for the Imam to finish his duties and come to the craft fair, but he has arrived without much pomp or circumstance. Really, he just walks in. No guards, no Akhund...the other priests may mingle as they choose. The Imam glances through his spectacles at the line...and then the end product of the soup. Interesting. It must be pretty good. He may just have to cut in line and grab a bowl. Surely no one would mind that. To many in the line, he offers a nod and a quiet 'Namaste' before reaching to get his bowl of soup.

Naiadre pats her daughter's shoulder, drawing her to one side. She casts another glance after Kekipi, a dark brow arching at the sweat beading on his face. Glancing down at Leioni, she ventures, "I have a feeling we'd best eat that slowly."

Aziz takes his bowl of soup with a smile! Home cooking! He moves out of the line and strolls towards the other musicians, the music stopped because of a young, over-tired child wailing about how the wyvern was going to eat him. Instead of joining them, he stands admiring the flutes other clan members made and the shape of a cousin's vina - noting the differences to the ones he makes. One spoonful of the soup has him frowning. It wasn't hot enough.

Once she is away from the line, rejoining the crowd of Wyvern-watchers with her mother, Leioni takes a tentative sip at the soup. One sip is all she needs to know she doesn't like it. Her sandy skin dusks over with pink, and she drops her mouth open, fanning it with her free hand while the other attempts to hastily hand off the bowl to her mother. Tears streak from her eyes and down her cheeks. She has to work hard to suppress a cough. Instead, she cries out in a high voice, her surprise strong enough to merit a vocal response. "It's /hot/!!

Naiadre snags the bowl from her daughter before Leioni can drop it, lifting it to her nose. The one whiff she gets makes her eyes water and her nose run. Just one whiff. But then, the Atlanteans never were ones for seasoning their food. Kinda washes off in the water. Holding the offending bowl away from her, she digs a bit of coinage from the pouch at her waist and hands it to Leioni.

Kekipi offers a polite nod to Naiadre and her daughter, well its either a nod or a slight though heated convulsion given his recent meal. His bowl raised respectfully to them both as a sign to either drink up swiftly or respect the contents as you would a wyvern. Though with Leioni's shout, the Troll can't help but offer a gruff and distinctly hoarse rumble in reply as he pads over, "Very h-h-h-hot...blessings..upon you both.", another spicy cough escaping him as he turns away to let his breath cloud against the chill air, still his free hand mopping away the beads of sweat upon his brow and the tears from his reddened eyes.

Zeyd gets to his feet, brushing the back of his leather breeches. A few last words to the armed mongrel by the Souk's door-- instructions, perhaps-- and the massive Varati is off, shouldering through the crowd towards the pen into which the dark-skinned wyvern is being led.

In time, the figure of the al'Samar teamster, Nikare Mustafa, materializes from the throng milling at the northern end of the great bridge. Those who have met the man will recognize him by the exotic tattoo that adorns the side of his face. He gives the chain a strong jerk, eliciting a black-sooted snort from the monster he holds in tow. One of the advantages of being a member of a clan like al'Samar, one know for its cloth and clothiers, is that it is not terribly difficult to find something stylish to wear. He has not passed up that opportunity. Now if only the dark 'drake he leads will decide the fine silks do not need to be eaten. -- Nikare looks for a suitable Empyrean as potential hors d'oeuvres.

It's not very nice to take amusement from the distress of others. But the young Atlantean's reaction to the spiciness of the soup is enough to make Jyoti's attempts at hiding her chuckling very -very- difficult. It is situations such as these that would be far easier if she chose to go about veiled. Alas. The daughter of al'Sirat is doomed to a longer fit of coughing -- though it no doubt helps little to cover her amusement, given she's standing near empaths. "If this one may be so bold, Imphadas, milk will take some of the heat from your mouths," she offers once that coughing has passed. "Water will not help, it only worsens the sting..."

Moving among the fair-goers, Varad takes a seat wherever there is a space free...whether it is near the Atlanteans, near Varati, or near any others. He sips at the soup...considers it, and then glances to the 'chefs'. "Must have toned it down for the candala..." is murmured to anyone who might be around to hear. He then turns his bespectacled eyes to to the wyvern and actually seems suitably impressed. It will probably be more interesting to watch the reactions of the others...which will be done as he finishes his soup. As Jyoti offers her remedy, he also lifts his voice to offer, "Bread will also help cut the spice."

Over the child's protests, one of the musicians slowly taps his fingers over a drum. Another picks up a pair of finger cymbals, or zils, and starts chiming them to the steady beat. Finally a zurna with its deep oboe tones starts a floating melody - one that calms the young boy and may keep the wyvern smooth.

Wiping the tears that still streak down her cheeks away with a frustrated gesture, Leioni takes the money and scampers quickly towards a juice stand. The Varati woman's advice barely penetrates her distress in time. Water won't help? Pasiphae's mercy! What was in that monstrous soup that water won't negate its affects?? Giving grateful nods to the Varati who contribute advice, the girl buys bread and milk and digs into them, eager to be gone with the burning aftertaste. She murmurs polite thanks to Jyoti and Varad as she passes them on her way back to her mother's side, where she hunkers down to drink the milk and eat and quietly watch the crowd.

Jasmine had business to attend to before she came to the fair. That done, she now enters the area and looks around to see who all is here, and what all there is to do. She hangs about at the very fringes of the crowd.

Naiadre glances up at Kekipi, smiling sympathetically at him. "Blessings to you as well." She replies, then glances after Leioni with a wince. "That bad, huh?" She murmurs to herself, aloud, looking down at the soup in her hands. "Well, might as well see what all the fuss is about..." And she takes a sip of the soup. Within seconds, sweat has also broken out on her forehead and her cheeks have flushed. But she is a brave woman...she takes another bite.

Zeyd breaks into a rare, good-humored smile as Nikare comes into view beneath his beast. Lifting his voice, the warrior calls loudly, "Nikare Mustafa al'Samar! Your Mahisi grows more beautiful every day!" It's an odd sort of greeting, but there doesn't seem to be any malice in it.

"I think I'll savour the sting.", Kekipi offers a touch stubbornly, another chilled breath taken all too readily as his bald head glistens from nary a single moment of exertion, just from soup, "It is indeed something to be savoured.", the gruffness of his voice long since having deserted him, leaving but a hoarse whisper by which to thank Varad and Jyoti rather warmly. Temperature wise at least, "After three mouthfuls, you won't even feel the rest...or so I found, is all Varati food this spicey?, I think ours might be a touch bland by comparison.", he asks of those about him, clearly intrigued. The spices having briefly numbed his complete dislike of crowds, disdain of people and suspicion of almost, well..everything.

The queen of the soup continues to dish out soup, each person receiving one, and only one bowl. Her minions continue to chirrup, Namaste, but unfortunately, eventually the kettle runs dry. The last bowl is handed out and the lid is replaced on the kettle. A few people are turned away, disappointed.

As one young mongrel boy passes her, disappointed at his failure to procure soup, Naiadre slips him her bowl with a pained smile. She'd made it through four bites before the burning in her mouth brought tears to her eyes. She'd had enough. "A touch bland? You have a gift for understatement, sir." Naiadre replies to Kekipi before going in search of bread for herself.

"Not all, Imphadi, but much of it. We do like fire..." The Imam's voice, naturally, draws Jyoti's attention to him. The hand that had so recently hidden her smile now moves through a respectful salute for the man, fingertips skimming from brow to lips to heart before she dips in a deep bow. "Namaste," she offers finally to complete the more formal greeting ritual. Nevermind that he seems to be trying to behave as any other normal visitor to this fair would. Some habits are difficult to break. "Ohh, look, that at that one!" This in response to the arrival of the dark wyvern, led by Nikare. Admiring though she may be of the beast, she is wary enough to make sure she's standing no where near its path to the pen.

Varad finishes his soup and turns to watch the others...especially the Atlanteans who attempt the soup. To answer the Atlantean's question, he stands and approaches, "Not all, but some of the best. Especially the food in the farther, smaller varas. Actually, the spices were rather mild for this soup." He then points to one of the other food booths, "That is fried dough dipped in a honey sauce and walnuts...It isn't spicy at all, but very sweet." To Jyoti, he offers a nod and a 'Namaste' before following her gaze to the wyvern. "Have you seen one before?"

"And fortunately for me, you remain as ugly as ever," Nikare rejoins in that same boisterous tone. He is loud and friendly as he reaches to clasp Zeyd in greeting. "Namaste, my friend. May you have long days and pleasant nights!"

Jasmine slowly begins to move along the edge of the group, continuing to primarily simply observe for the time being. She makes mental note of the people she knows, though does not interrupt with a greeting.

Buying a bit of bread for herself, Naiadre nibbles on it quickly, hoping it will help alleviate the sting. Thank the Goddess she only took four bites before handing the bowl off to someone else. As she nibbles, she moves towards Leioni, pausing behind her. "Feeling better?" She asks aloud.

Jyoti's gaze slides absently back to Varad as she nods once in response to his question. "Only recently though, Imam. That man had one hitched to a cart when he came to deliver the riddling prize," she confides with bowed head and quickly downcast eyes. She obviously hadn't been thinking, to look so openly at him that way. Such humility lasts only a moment though for the girl soon lifts her gaze to return to watching the firedrake. And, through no fault of her own, the men who stand near it exchanging insults and greetings.

Zeyd matches Nikare's grasp, muscles tensing briefly along his great forearm. He seems relatively unconcerned by the monstrous beast hovering over the both of them; indeed, his eye lifts to the creature in a brief, calm survey. With just a touch of grim mischief, the man inquires, "Did you feed it?"

Kekipi catches sight of Jasmine moving long the fringe, a webbed hand raised in greeting before once against dabbing the beads of sweat from his brow with such fervour. Though he remains silent enough as the odd rumble escapes his throat, clearly testing his loosened and heated vocal chords for the moment as he starts to ponder milk and bread himself, though remains persistently perspiring for the moment. Moving to the edge of the bridge, Kekipi sets the bowl upon the brickwork and settles in to take a few moments peace as his Troll companion, now fairly sure his boss isn't about to combust moves off to continue his patrol.

The hint of bread and milk was a good one. Leioni is feeling markedly better. She can still taste the horrible soup in her mouth, but at least it doesn't hurt to breath anymore, and she's almost stopped sweating and weeping, which is good. It's /so/ embarrassing to cry in front of people. And so she gives her mother a nod, managing a smile that's almost as cheerful and excited as the ones she gave when she first arrived.

"Ahh, yes, the riddle prizes. I have yet to receive mine...although I'm told I guessed some correctly." But the Imam doesn't seem too concerned. "We used to have wyverns in Haven. I remember when a miscreant was actually fed to them. Quite interesting really..." the other races were so appalled! But they have to eat too! "I must admit I'm surprised one is being let out here...but its handler seems to know what he is doing." Glancing to the somewhat familiar Atlantean mother and child, he again mentions the sweets booth. "I believe they also have a custard wrapped in a flaky dough. Not spicy at all."

Nikare cannot help but soak up the attention that is thrown his way. Once the greeting is broken he makes something of a show in protesting the suggestion. "Did I feed him? Imphadi, it is me. It is your good friend. What sort of a question is that, that you ask me here!? Hmm?" His arms are extended wide to each side-- the chain jangling with a gamely, almost musical note to it all. As if this were theater. Still, the careful observer will note that Nikare did /not/ in fact answer Zeyd's pointed question. And then, as if in conspiracy, he lowers his head and his tone just slightly. "Come, help me get him to the paddock."

Jasmine smiles and waves to Kekipi in response. Naia and Leioni also garner waves if they happen to look in that direction. Her head tilts slightly as she takes note of the wyvern.

"Ohh, how terrible." And how utterly fascinating. Jyoti doesn't seem to know which to feel more over Varad's revelation. "He must have done a horrible thing to warrant such punishment. Do you suppose they will actually let anyone really ride that one? He looks as if he would enjoy a meal, even if it were not a criminal." The girl's gaze travels over the wyvern's strong neck, to that dangerous head which seems to exist only as a bed for all of those razorsharp teeth. Talk of prizes and sweets and Atlanteans are far less interesting.

Maat moves away from the empty soup kettle, which is being hauled away by two shudra of Clan al'Samar. She strides over toward the empty pen, though she makes no move to open the gate or in any way aid Nikare's animal handling. Instead, her strong voice calls out, "Free Wyvern Rides. Free Wyvern Rides."

Some sort of pastry?? Naiadre perks up, glancing in Varad's direction as he mentions the sweets booth. "That sounds lovely, thank you, Imam." She replies with a genuine smile. Tapping Leioni on the shoulder, she gestures to the booth.

Zeyd heaves a derisive snort, scanning the crowd briefly as he circles round to the huge reptile's far side. "Well," he reasons, quite audibly, "meat enough here for the beast in any case." The mercenary smiles, a little, but it is still far from clear that the observation was meant as a joke.

Kekipi simply arches a brow at the Wyvern and the calls for free rides. Still, like a statue he remains, though tentatively his hand does rise to settle upon the hilt of his sword. First set aflame by soup, then possibly eaten by a wyvern...could be a day to remember. Though silent he remains, as guardly and Troll-like as anyone would expect as he turns about to gaze across the river.

Varad gives a chuckle as the Imphada Maat begins calling out just what Jyoti was wondering. "It would seem so..." He'll pass on those rides though. "Now might be a once in a lifetime experience, Imphada..." How often does one get to ride a wyvern...especially here?

Leioni looks as interested as her mother at the mention of pastry. Grinning, both at her mother's addiction and the prospect of something tasty and sweet, she takes another few coins from her mother and obediently goes to the sweet both and orders the two pastries. While she waits for the clerk to hand them to her, she surveys the crowd and considers the prospect of a free Wyvern ride. It does sound exciting, but she's quite sure her mother would never allow it. Anyway, the beast might be dangerous! She'll just watch, thank you very much. That soup was quite enough Varati danger for the day. Exchanging coins for pastries, she wanders back to her mother, pausing to wave and smile exuberantly at Jasmine before closing the distance and holding out one of the baked delicacies. "Do I get one too, or d'you want both

A scaled hide slides over the rough musculature that must carry the monstrous beast. There are odd warts and scars that make it simple to determine one from the other, assuming one knows what to look for to begin with. This one snorts and digs at the stones of the bridge with an undeniable foot. Loosened from his carting chores, earlier in the week the long tail is visible behind him. He raises his head and lets out an alien, clacking scream of a challenge to protest Nikare's unsubtle direction into the paddock. With a bit of wrangling, that task is accomplished without loss of limb.

Naiadre accepts one of the pastries, chuckling at Leioni's eagerness. "Of course you get one, Lei, that was the idea." Biting into hers, Naia pauses to look at it, making a curious, appreciate face. "Mmm, not bad." She decides finally, continuing to much on it. The scream from the beast in the paddock brings a visible blanch to the Atlantean woman's face as she sidles a half-step back.

Jyoti looks around at the faces of those in the crowd around her, stealing peeks from beneath a veil of lowered lashes. "It is not an opportunity anyone seems inclined to take, Imam," she confides in a near-whisper, her own expression -- well-hidden though it may be -- rather nervously wistful as she looks again at the penned beast. It would not do to accept a ride before a man of her own race, thereby proving herself the braver... but goodness it's tempting. Even if it does seem to be doing its best to dissuade anyone from attempting it.

Leioni tries staunchly not to quaver at the wyvern's noise, and almost manages it. Almost. Her own flinch isn't pronounced, but it's there. Feeling a bit ashamed at her lack of bravery, Leioni sighs and turns her attention to the pastry, mumbling towards her mother, "Well, you do like them very much," before taking a huge bite of hers.

His assistance no longer required, Zeyd circles the wyvern once more-- notably towards the rear, away from its fierce maw-- until he reaches the gate of the makeshift pen. There he reclines, inside with Nikare, in the event of mischance. "Watch, now, as they clamor to mount the drake," the big man drawls, with calculated sarcasm.

Kekipi pushes himself away from the bridge's edge and proceeds towards the bridge guild head quarters. His features still distinctly flushed and fevered from the soup as he approaches the entrance and meets with another Troll, "Well if those posters are anything to go by, I've apparently ridden uglier things than that.", a wry smirk creasing his wrinkled features, the other Troll likewise grinning as they cast a wary glance about the bridge before starting back towards the doors, "I'll see you at first light...", and then quietly, a few more exchanges of information and such take place as Kekipi vanishes from view into the Guild hall and the other troll starts his rounds upon the bridge.

Maat throws a glare at Zeyd, but she can hardly muzzle him...in public. Once again she calls out, "Free Wyvern Rides. Free Wyvern Rides. Ride the tame beast. Touch the symbol of Varati culture." She leans against the fence and asks Nikare in a lower voice, "Did you bring snacks so that the fair-goers can pet and feed the beast?"

There's a smaller pen within the larger one that contains a sounder of pigs. These, predictably, erupt into a cacophony of squeals and screams of their own-- some of them unnervingly childlike-- at the draconian steed's arrival. "Perhaps if we'd charged money," Nikare considers as he settles the thing in place and looks on towards the throng. At Maat's question, he jerks his head towards the pen of piglets. "Yes, Imphada."

Jasmine leans against a stall, at first smiling at something unheard by the others. Her expression gradually turns to a frown, nodding slightly. Her gaze moves back toward the wyvern.

Is anyone going to ride the wyvern? Anyone at all? Varad glances about at the frightened fairgoers and actually steps towards the pen. Dark eyes glance to the keeper and he offers, "If the beast tried to attack me, he will be charred..." just to give a warning. Otherwise, he gives a bit of a smile and asks, "What do I do?"

Good form, Imam! Jyoti forgets herself long enough to actually aim a sun-bright smile at the priest's back as he approaches the pen and those within it. And with him to lead the way, she creeps forward in his wake to form the rough beginning of a line. There's little doubt that she intends to be the second 'lucky' person to enjoy a real wyvern ride, and will watch raptly as Varad is prepared for this ordeal.

Well, when in Civitas Dei, as the Empyreans say...Naiadre shrugs briefly, reaching down to squeeze her daughter's shoulder, then moves forward to be third in line behind Jyoti. If the Varati are willing, and these are /their/ beasts, surely Pasiphae will keep her from being chow? Besides, the Wyvern should be full after the first two, right?

The Atlantean teenager looks alarmed as someone actually steps forward to ride the wyvern. Forgetting pretenses of bravery, Leioni steps backwards to join her mother, eyes wide with apprehension. She desperately hopes that the nice priest isn't eaten. The thought of it has rather cooled her zestful attention towards the pastry. Her mother's movement into the queue increases her alarm in leaps and bounds. What will she do if the creature eats Naiadre? It's quite distressing, really.

Nikare is demonstrably non-plussed to hear the priest level his conditions. "You'll be fine, Iman." The handler takes a long moment to judge Varad's size and weight before moving to find a proper saddle. He goes about securing this exquisite apparatus to the gleaming lizard. Gold and platinum contrast brilliantly with the dark hide of the firedrake. To mount is a step into a high stirrup and then a throwing of one leg across a bony back. Nikare delivers these instructions and moves towards the great, toothy muzzle, to keep him still. -- The tail lashes and thumps against the stones behind.

Maat surveys the pen of piglets. "That one against the gate looks particularly pink and juicy," she says suggestively to the Imam after dropping a bow toward the religious leader. "Perhaps the wyvern will take more kindly to you after you have fed it."

Jasmine blinks, seeming to be surprised that Naia presents herself in the line to ride the animal, though the youngster following her somehow does not surprise. Perhaps Jasmine will rethink her desire not to ride it after she sees how others fare.

He doesn't want to attack the beast, but he does have self-preservation to think about. Nodding to the handler, Varad moves to the saddle to mount it, gathering his robes about him so that he can more easily maneuver. But before he does, he glances at the Vaisya, "Feed it?" Oh, the pigs. That is the handler's call.

Wandering over through the craft fair with, as per usual for any visit to the bridge, a fruit tart in her webbed hand, a particular Atlantean Lawkeeper looks on with obvious interest at the gathering. It takes almost a moment for her to catch, with a widening of her seaweed green eyes, just what is causing all those lovely colors at this side of the craft fair. Still continuing to nibble away at her tart, Gaiava joins the crowd of onlooker simply watching and not joining the line. No, for now, she would hardly allow herself to let a good pastry go to waste.

As a small line finally forms before the wyvern pen, the casual hawker of goods begins to assault those nearby. "Beautiful ribbons: pink, green, yellow, even purple and blue," calls out a young mongrel girl. The items dangle from a basket hanging from the crook of her elbow. "Buy a ribbon!"

Zeyd does not move from his position against the rail, but his one meaty hand drops to brush the handle of the falcare sheathed at the back of his belt. "If for some reason the beast should grow angry," Zeyd rumbles, "leap to the rear, and do your best to get out of the pen. Nikare Mustafa and I will try to subdue the drake before anyone in consumed. At worst, it'll have the three of us in here, and the spectators safe all." This last has the too-flat intonation of a straight-faced jest, but the humor of it is clearly not so terribly far from the truth.

A young mongrel boy shouts, trying to drown out the ribbon-selling girl, "Wooden balls and hoops. Every child wants a ball and a hoop. Excellent balls and hoops. Play all day. No end of fun!" Both mongrels work the crowd aggressively.

Jyoti spares a glance for the ribbon peddler -- what girl can resist pretty things -- but that distraction is only a brief one. All too quickly does she look back to the miniature drama unfolding in the pen. Will the Imam be eaten? Will the firedrake be immolated? Will that piglet indeed become a snack by the Imam's own hand before he's allowed to ride? It's all she can do to keep from fidgeting with impatience to see the outcome but training wins out over wicked curiosity, and she continues to stand there outwardly calm. Watching. Definitely -not- smiling at the way Zeyd and Nikare build up the danger of this enterprise.

Leioni trails after her mother, looking a bit less distressed at some mental reassurance, and even less at the distraction of a Mongrel selling ribbons. Oooh. Shiny. "Mother, will you buy me--" And then she's back at alarm again. Just when Naiadre had convinced her that it was probably safe, that assurance has been shattered by the Varati. Her anxiety shows on her face, for Leioni bites her lower lip and wrings her hands, ribbons quickly forgotten.

Nikare gives the wyvern a sturdy clout on the nose by way of judging the thing's demeanor. When the creature jerks back and snaps at Nikare's hand, Nikare knows he is in fine spirits. Again the chains jangle cheerfully. "At your pleasure, Iman," the Iman is invited to mount. -- Nikare acknowledges Zeyd's advice as sound, and looks Varad squarely in the eyes to see if he's understood. The wyrm shakes his head vigorously. The movement all around has caught his eye. Nikare reminds him to pay attention to him with a short, sharp jerk.

Dark, bespectacled eyes turn to Zeyd, "No, Imphadi. At the worst, the wyvern is immolated." But at Nikare's invitation, the Imam mounts the saddle, gripping what he can. It's quite a heady experience, actually...feeling the power and energy of the beast. Definitely something to tell his children about...if they were speaking to him. His concubine will have to do.

Naiadre falls back a step, but she can't help staring at the Wyvern, its handlers and the Imam. She's been siezed by such an unusual determination to ride that thing, she can't be dissuaded, not even by her daughter's obvious distress, although she does look back at Leioni with a smile.

Jasmine begins making her way toward the wyvern pens for a better view of what is going on. Especially when Naia gets her turn. She glances to see how long the line has gotten.

The faint interest given by Leioni toward the ribbons is immediately seized upon by the mongrel girl, almost as if the girl were telepathic. Alas, she is not. Thus, business acumen and the desire to eat will have to substitute. Planting herself before Leioni, the ribbon seller smiles brightly, and waves a length of ribbon suggestively. "Beautiful green ribbon, the color of trees, leaves and...and...seaweed!"

With a chuff of black smoke, the 'drake shuffles to settle the new weight upon his back. He wants to turn and snatch Varad's leg where it lays against his side: Nikare's firm grip on the tether does not allow it. In fact, the handler has become somewhat worried about the Atarvani's intentions. Beads of sweat appear at Nikare's temple. He wipes them away on his fine silk. The beast's temper he knows and can predict; this man of God, however--. "Tch-tch!" he decides to focus on the promised ride.

The firedrake moves with an shuffling, awkward gait. He is led in a broad circle within the paddock.

Maat checks over the small line. She gives a polite bow to Jyoti, waiting next, and a brief nod to Naiadre who has the last place in line. It is a very short line.

Jyoti clasps her hands before her and dares step closer to the pen, as it seems the firedrake is focused upon his burden, and being safely led around. Not that she comes within range of any wayward snapping that might occur, but she does place herself to easily access the pen's entrance once the Imam has finished his ride. "The Imam was right in this being quite an opportunity, imphada," she says softly to Maat, returning the woman's bow with a deeper one. Oh, and while she's waiting... "This one would thank al'Samar for the generous gift following the riddle contest."

He won't do anything if the wyvern doesn't...and it's certainly not the Imam's intention to harm the beast. But there is safety to think about and yes, he -has- seen a wyvern dine. But the ride does actually pull up some memories, causing him to chuckle softly even as he is just led around the pen.

Naiadre sidles another few steps after Jyoti, nodding in return to Maat. Her eyes slid back to the Wyvern, watching him being led around the paddock with the Imam on his back. Pale jade eyes are rounder than plates as she watches, hands knotting before her in nervousness.

Watching the wyvern's path with some obvious curiosity on her features, Gaiava plainly either has no fear .. or simply has never had the opportunity of seeing a wyvern dine. Finishing off her tart, the Atlantean primly wipes her mouth and steps towards the front of the line, not to cut, but to watch. A respectful nod is sent in Jyoti's direction. "Good day, imphada," she murmurs, even as her eyes still flicker to follow the wyvern's path. "You have.. never ridden a wyvern before?"

Maat's golden eyes crinkle at the corners, as if the woman behind the cloth is smiling. "It was my honor and pleasure that you saw fit to participate in my humble little contest, Imphada," she says to Jyoti. "I am please that you have received your prize. Not all our winners have been so lucky. Good Imphadi Nikare has been unable to deliver some of his prizes. It would seem that the Empyreans denied him entrance into Parnassus."

As if picking up on her mother's nervousness, Leioni frets all the more, wringing her own hands and shifting from foot to foot. However, she's never too immersed in worry to spend money. Pausing, she gestures the ribbon seller over and passes over a few coins in exchange for one deep blue ribbon and one green one. What she'll do with them outside the fair is a mystery, as her chopped hair is much too short to be tied back. Right now the girl uses them as props, twisting them around her wrists and then unwinding them in a nervous gesture. It's nice to have something in hand, it distracts the worry. Despite the movement of her hands, Leioni's eyes never leave the wyvern and the Imam. She's sure the animal will eat the Varati man any moment now.

"This one is male. The queens have wings," Nikare begins a lecture on the basics of firedrakes to those who are nearby. Most of his attention is kept to the mount in front of him-- as it must be. He's picked up a large mace at one corner of the paddock and holds that easily in his left hand. The right one grips tightly on the chain. "They're much more foul-tempered than this one here. Particuarly if you get two of them too close to each other for very long. Tend to tear each other apart they do." He looks sharply up at Varad astride the creature. "But you don't have to worry about that, Iman. No, not all all. Like I said, this one's male. Practically a whole different animal." Practically-- they're still quite carnivorous. And did he mention the part about breathing fire? He might have left that out, I think.

"Imphada Gaiava, namaste." Jyoti turns enough to offer a bow, no less deep, to the Lorekeeper. "This will be the first such ride I am honored with," she confides, stealing a glance at the woman to offer a small smile. That smile fades, however, upon hearing what Maat has to say. "That is unfortunate, Imphada. They seem nervous as of late... but I am certain that the proper recipients would understand his delay, that it was beyond his control." This said while her attention sneaks back to the pen. She cannot help herself, she simply must watch -- as everyone else around her also seems compelled to do, with perhaps the exception of Maat. "Does the imphadi name them?" she asks in an almost whisper of the other Varati woman. "Like one would a kitten?" What an amusing question.

Maat answers Jyoti, her voice oozing honesty, "I do not know, Imphada. Most people like to name things. It is much easier to differentiate creatures when they have names. Also, my clan has more than one wyvern in its service with Imphadi Nikare around." She glances over at Nikare and his mace. "However, if I were to name a wyvern, I would call it, Makes Trolls Cry. It seem that, however shocking this may sound, that there is a Troll who is deathly frightened of our national animal and him a Varati, at that."

Breathing fire is not a concern of the Imam. Having his leg bitten off is. Glancing down at the handler, the Imam quips, "Perhaps it is almost a whole different animal...I am not surprised. Females can certainly seem a different species at time." He overhears Maat's words and glances at her, "There is a Bridge Troll who is a Varati?" Who? What Clan is he? How dare they disgrace their caste?

Gaiava raises a dark eyebrow, out of surprise at Maat's words. "Kekipi letting a man onto his services that would be afraid of.." The Lawkeeper trails off, her green eyes flickering in the wyvern's direction, looking at the creature in a whole new light.

Leioni finds the handler's lecture on the wyverns interesting, if terrifying. She's rather of two minds about the creature. On one hand, it's very beautiful and impressive, like a wonderful sculpture come to life. On the other, it's quite terrifying, even more so because it will soon be her mother on the creature's back. She can't make up her mind. Still, she is interested, and she tilts her head back and forth and eyes Maat and Nikare in between anxious lengths of gazing at the wyvern.

The ribbon seller, having made a sale, moves on to another person. She tries another Atlantean, this time Jasmine. "Buy a pretty ribbon? I have many pretty ribbons for pretty ladies."

Nikare brings the wyvern back around the queue so that Varad can dismount and continue his conversation with Qadi Maat. She has the details of Nikare's encounter from the other day. He can't help but overhear as he assists the priest down. "Here we are. Safe as houses."

"Truly?" Jyoti's surprise is no less than the Imam's, and she stares openly at the woman for a moment, blinking slowly while considering the possibility of a man openly exhibiting fright. Nothing else is said by the girl on the matter, of course. Anything she might comment could only be too easily taken as an insult, or slur. Better to hold her tongue.

Ahh, the ride is over. Varad glances at the wyvern for a moment before he dismounts easily. "I commend you, Imphadi, for your strong control over the creature. " A nod is given before he moves towards the pen's exit to, yes, continue the conversation with the Qadi.

Naiadre knots her fingers together as she sidles another step forward, listening intently to the lecture on the beasts. And then the Imam is dismounting and she's that much closer to being next. Hmm, still not too late to back away, is it? Something her daughter said makes her wonder if the beast prefers...fish? Or fishy people?

Maat's golden eyes glitter for a moment, growing darker in color. "Imam, he is called Namir, ah, Sharif, I believe," she says to Varad as he exits the pen. "He appears to be quite frightened of the wyvern, which you have just proven can be a gentle and well-behaved animal when under the control of a trained vaisya. In fact, he stopped traffic on the Bridge the other day and caused immeasurable loss of profit because of his insurmountable fear."

Jasmine looks down at the ribbon seller and smiles. She nods her head. "Yes, give me whichever one you think is prettiest. How much are they?" she says as she digs into her coin pouch.

"May the fire's light always light your path, Iman. May darkness and doubt never trouble you. You honor me and my clan with your patronage. -- If you intend to remain at the festival for a while, I have a package for you," Nikare manages something a bow while holding the metal reins on the scaled lizard. He steadies himself with a deep breath, mops his brow and looks for the next rider. "Imphada," there is pleasure in those words-- and just a touch of embarrassment brought on by memory.

The ribbon seller quotes Jasmine a price twice that of what Leioni paid a few moments before. "This pink ribbon is delightful," she carols. "It would look very pretty on you."

A snort of laughter escapes Naiadre, which she quickly muffles as she glances over her shoulder at Leioni.

"And this Imphadi is a Troll?" Maybe the title is too much for one afraid of a simple wyvern. A nod is given to Nikare..."I will be here only for a short time, I fear. But I can almost always be found in the Temple." Or by someone in the Temple. Turning back to Maat, he asks, "I do not know this Namir Sharif...and if he prevented profit, should he not be charged?" Isn't that how the Bridge is run?

Jyoti can't help a brief moment spent staring at Maat again, her description of the man's behaviour seeming unfathomable. How strange. Distraction is provided in the form of Nikare's greeting, however, bringing the girl's attention to the beasthandler. She smiles, though she does so at the ground. "Namaste, Imphadi, it is a pleasure to see you again," she says, dipping slightly to him -- but still taking care to remain well back from the pen. "May I ride the animal next?"

A glance is paid towards the other Varati (namely, Maat and Varad), before Gaiava's green eyes focus upon Jyoti. "May you have a safe ride, imphada." The Atlantean murmurs, her eyes flickering back to the shiny beast in the pen. "It is a creature that embodies the fire of your people, so I do not doubt that you will." However, still no moves to join the line, perhaps the Lawkeeper is making an admirable job of hiding some sort of fear, after all.

Jasmine was not, however, paying attention to the fact that the ribbon seller had stopped at Leioni. Still, the price seems on the high side. She waits to see if the ribbon is worth the price quoted or not before holding out any coins.

The ribbon seller holds out one hand for the coins while the other dangles the pink ribbon before Jasmine. The ribbon is nice, but it is ribbon, not gold-spun spiderwebs, therefore, it is only as impressive as ribbon can be.

"Good luck, Imphada," Leioni chimes after Gaiava, the other Atlantean's tidings reminding her that she should wish this Varati woman luck. She was nice to Leioni, after all, giving her advice on how to combat the horrifically spicy concoction the Varati were masquerading as food. Secretly, though, she rather hopes that the girl might get eaten. It would fill the wyvern's stomach and lessen the chances of her mother being consumed ... right?

Maat makes a gesture around at the busy fair. "I hope to speak with the Head Troll soon. However, preparations for the fair have prevented me from making my ire known to one who might be able to correct the matter. On this fearful Troll, I am coming to the belief that his mother must have dropped him on his head a few times when he was a babe," she says to Varad. "He appears entirely unable to give a proper report, with a name, or description of a troublemaker."

"One greater for me than you," Nikare comments on their meeting before he looks beyond Jyoti momentarily. Perhaps he hopes to glimpse a hint of her naraki. "At your pleasure, imphada." He holds up the process of mounting long enough to make some adjustments to the saddle to accommodate a new rider, and then repeats the instructions. That first step into the stirrup is a tall one, even by Varati standards.

Jasmine hmmms softly and hands over the coins without haggling. She does comment, however, "A few words of advice, little one? You will sell more ribbons in the end at a lower price. In the end that will get you more money than selling only a few ribbons at a greater price." She then moves off, ribbon between her fingers. Oddly enough, she is moving toward the wyvern line.

Varad can't help but snort a bit, "From what you have said thus far, it sounds very much like that would be the case. A shame..." Maybe he's Shudra. That could also explain a lot. "A fine fair, Imphada al'Samar. I am sorry that I cannot stay longer, but services call."

"Thank you." This for those who wish her well before Jyoti sets foot in the pen and creeps around to the proper side to mount up. She's not so confident in her pulling herself into the saddle as the Imam was, but that's to be expected perhaps from a sheltered girl... no matter how bold she might seem at times. Once situated up there though, she grips the pommel with both hands and steadies herself easily enough. With chin tucked into her throat to keep her face turned down -- strange, to be watched by so many people -- she signals to Nikare that she's ready with a murmured, "I am settled, Imphadi..." How...frightening. And exhilarating!

Zeyd glances up at Jyoti as she makes her way to the beast. "Some men say that the wyvern will not harm a maiden unsullied by the stain of man," he grates, betraying just a hint of sideshow timbre. "Let us hope that such is your case, Imphada." With a sweet smile he returns to his repose, thick arms stretched to the elbow atop the pen's gate.

Nikare swings the large-headed mace into action and bashes the 'drake on the flank to spur him to movement. His first step is quite different from the slow, shambling ride he gave the priest. He practically leaps forward, covering more than a few yards in the single jolt before the chain's extent runs out, and the toothy skull is yanked around to halt him. Two tugs and a "Tch-tch," bring him back in line.

Stepping closer to the railing, the Lawkeeper seems in no hurry to join the short line to ride the wyvern. Instead, Gaiava watches in obvious fascination as she places one webbed hand against the railing to lean against it and watch the wyvern's track around the pen.

Jasmine laughs aloud softly at something unspoken. She stops between Naiadre and Leioni. "Well, it is not /much/ of a present," she tells Leioni aloud as she holds out the ribbon, "But I hope you will like it."

Jyoti is in the process of sending a -very- flat look at Zeyd when her mount lunges forward. Naturally, this causes more than a little anxiety. The girl doesn't disgrace herself by squealing or screaming with the movement, but she does go as pale as an Empyrean and holds the saddle with fingers gone white with strain. So... fact, it's far more exhilerating to ride a wyvern when they're going slowly in a circle and not throwing themselves around.

Naiadre draws closer, smiling briefly at Maat as she turns to watch Jyoti ride the Wyvern. Her breath catches in her throat as she processes how very /big/ the creature is. But she doesn't waver. She's resolved and her pale eyes are glowing with the prospect of something Leioni can tell her children about.

Maat says conversationally to Zeyd, "As the good Imphada proves, the Troll does not fret like a woman. Indeed, even a woman has less fear of the wyvern than he. You will have to find a lower life form for comparison."

Of course Leioni likes it. She adores ribbons. The girl bounces and squeals, clapping her hands together, quite delighted. "Oh, thank you!" she says aloud. "Look, mother! Jasmine has given me a present! It's a lovely pink ribbon!" She's almost regretting cutting her hair. And she shall have to find a place to stash them aboveground, as she doesn't think that silk will mix nicely with water... but those are minor concerns. Right now, all that matters is that the ribbons is lovely and Jasmine is wonderful.

Nikare keeps his attention on his job, leading the firedrake around the modest circuit inside the pen. There is a reservoir of power beneath that hard, warty skin. She's able to feel it, sitting astride the beast as it shifts and moves beneath her. The footfalls are surprisingly soft. Occasionally a talon will scrape on stone, but one imagines that should the wyvern truly desire it-- he could be as quiet as a cat.

Zeyd's brow furrows, drawing down briefly to shadow his off-color eyes. "Indeed." Jyoti /does/ seem to be acquitting herself rather well, considering. "I will say, then, that Namir Sharif squawled like a swaddled babe." Lips purse in mild satisfaction at his new account of the Troll.

And all the more frightening it is, for that silence. But still... with it safely controlled by its handler, Jyoti is able to slowly relax, to dare to glance around from that high vantage at the crowds below. She's even able to mostly ignore that many are watching her and the beast on their circuit around the pen, so novel is this experience. "This is better than riding a horse," she opines after several moments' silent thought.

Naiadre glances over her shoulder at Leioni with a broad smile for her and Jasmine both. She can't help but mention aloud, "Just imagine, when your hair grows out, we can make you look so pretty." Is there a hint of teasing there? With a grin, she turns back, watching Jyoti aboard the drake with avid eyes.

In the center of the pen, the squeal of the piglets had dimmed during the period in which Varad rode. However, the sudden motion of the wyvern causes the cacophony of high-pitched noises to erupt once more.

Jasmine's smile reaches her eyes even, indicating true joy in the reception her 'present' got. Perhaps she will give Leioni some of the few ribbons she kept from the ribbon-seller's stall when he was displaced. "Ah, but she is already pretty, Naia," she assures with that same smile.

Nikare agrees with Jyoti's assessment. He's obviously fond of his irascible, man-eating lizards of fire. "Yes. He's being rather even-tempered. I should reward him," the vaisya comments as the ride is so quickly come to a close. "Would you care to do so, imphada?" Nikare asks Naiadre as they eventually plod around to the line: a line that now only contains one member. Another stout tap with the mace brings the firedrake's attention front and center, and his feet firmly planted on the ground for Jyoti's dismount.

Her mother's comment induces Leioni to pull a face, sticking out her tongue and squinching her eyes. And then she turns to Jasmine and continues thanking her, even throwing a shy hug at the woman. "Thank you," she says aloud again, and then asks, almost shyly, "Will you stay with me while my mother rides the Varati beast?" She suspects she'll need support. Despite delight over the gift, she is still quite nervous, and keeps stealing glances at the wyvern.

Maat states, for the record, "I still think the fat one by the gate looks particularly pink and delicious." She points the piglet out for Naiadre.

Jyoti is slightly less graceful on the dismount, her movements hampered by the yards of bright fabric that drape around her tall form. Breathless and bright of eye, she retreats to the pen's exit with a murmur of thanks for Nikare -- wisely not dawdling around the wyvern now that it looks to be feeding time. The girl melts back into the crowd, quiet now but still animated with the excitement of having actually ridden one of the fierce firedrakes.

Zeyd glances Naiadre once up and down, then leans slightly sideways to murmur, "If possible, it would be best not to shudder. Agitation of that sort makes a drake uneasy; they've been known to try to... remove, such annoyances." Truth or fiction? Does Zeyd know the first thing about such animals? Likely not, but the hulking figure's placidness leaves some room for doubt.

As imphada Jyoti slips off the wyvern, Gaiava smiles warmly after her Varati friends as she disconnects herself from the railing with a sigh. Perhaps she does not wish to see a piglet be sacrificed, even for so magnificent a beast, or perhaps the Lawkeeper does indeed have duties to attend to that she is neglecting. But in any case, with only a glance and a nod towards the other Atlanteans, the woman turns and walks back through the crowd.

"Me?" Naiadre almost squeaks. Typical. The Varati get to ride the beast, no sweat, but when it comes to the Atlantean, /she's/ the one that has to feed it? Why /me/? Her expression clearly says, eyeing the pen with the piglets. But at Zeyd's whispered words, her chin lifts, a glance flickering towards him and then the Wyvern. "Goddess Pasiphae..." Those audible words descend into an inaudible supplication, even as Naiadre moves forward and leans over into the pen to pick up a piglet, which begins squealing loudly, even despite her attempts to soothe it. She cradles it, looking towards the beast and its handlers. Her face is calm, she trembles not, but her eyes are far too wide for her face now.

Leioni really does try to suppress her distress, for her mother's sake. However, her best effort is no match against the looming anxiety. Especially since that anxiety has increased severalfold since her mother has been ordered to feed the beast. What if it mistakes Naiadre for food?? Maybe there's truth in the thought that wyverns might like fish. Leioni bounces and squeaks with distress, twisting her ribbons fretfully, looking near tears again.. but she doesn't say anything, at least not out loud.

"Shall I fetch him for you, Imphada?" Nikare presses the issue of feeding the great beast after a glance to acknowledge Qadi Maat's advice. He waits patiently on the Atlantean woman's decision. He is not kept waiting long as he sees Naiadre's made up her mind. Pigs, being pigs, have a tendency to root around in the mud. This one is no exception. He's slippery and mildly slimey and makes a delightful mess if not handled with a firm grip. Nikare is about to intercede and pluck the creature from Naiadre's grasp, before deciding that would be rather rude. He pulls the rather attentive wyvern some distance away and coils several loops of slack in the tether before giving instructions. "Let him down," the piglet squeals in loud childlike screams of protest, "And give him a sharp slap on the rump so he'll run. They like their prey to be moving." He nods to Zeyd to unlatch the gate to the pen so that Naiadre has a clear shot to unleash dinner.

Jasmine nods to Leioni. "Yes, of course I will stay while you wait. Perhaps later I will get in line myself. We will see how your mother does first," she notes. She looks toward Naia, though refrains from frowning at the faint emotions she picks up.

And just as things get interesting, Jyoti finds herself tapped on the shoulder be a skinny specimen of Empyrean manhood. The winged blonde, dressed in the rough garb of a slave, bends to whisper something in the girl's ear. He too seems fascinated with the penned wyvern, and keeps his eyes fastened on the beast while passing on whatever message he has for his mistress. After listening, Jyoti nods to him and turns to head back to the city, the both of them stealing a last glance at the firedrake before moving on.

Zeyd casually pushes off from his place at the rail, lifting both his weight and the latch, letting the pen's gate hang free for Naiadre's use. He offers the Atlantean maid a grim-humoured, gallows smile, then clears himself from the baby pig's likely running lane.

Maat watches avidly, her golden eyes glittering. One can almost feel why Empyreans love the blood sports of the gladiatorial games. Indeed, several bystanders have stopped to watch one of Pasiphae's own feed the wyvern. "Even those who love peace have more backbone than--," She stops and sighs. "Ah well."

Naiadre visibly deflates in relief as she realizes she doesn't have to *hold* the thing while the drake eats it. "Pasiphae Be Blessed." She murmurs aloud. Her grip on the piglet is certainly firm, but she almost drops it as she leans over. Holding her breath unconciously, she speaks a brief blessing over the piglet, then releases it, slapping it hard on the rump and sending it running away from her briskly with a squeal. She straightens and steps back quickly, eyes wide as saucers as they follow the piglet.

Much clapping and hooting erupts from the bystanders as the piglet is released and slapped. Some of them are mongrels, but the majority of them are Varati males. They seem impressed, despite themselves.

Leioni steps closer to Jasmine as her mother drops the piglet into the wyvern's pen, murmuring entreaties to the goddess to keep her mother safe. She's got such clear images of the firedrake snatching her mother and dragging her to her death that it's a surprise to see Naiadre step away. It seems almost unreal. Still, the girl refrains from jumping and squealing with joy, though she does allow a few small, worried claps along with the crowd. It is impressive, her mother is very brave, but... who knows what will happen when Naiadre tries to ride the creature?

Whoomp, Whoomp! It is the two-fold sound of the 'drake leaping in chase. The first is a smoke-filled belch of excitement that lingers in the air: a black sulfurous stinkcloud. The second is four broad feet landing in unison a dozen yards from where they left the ground. Squee-squee-squee-sque--, the pig jigs and jags looking for an exit. It is over far too soon. Teeth catch. Bone snap. There is very little blood. The morsel is swallowed almost whole. A black tongue snakes outward and wide eyes look for seconds. They find Nikare quickly reeling in the length of chain. "Thank you. That should satisfy him for a time," he leads the wyvern back to where this all began as if nothing gruesome transpired at all. "At your pleasure, imphada."

Jasmine feels a moment's sorrow for the piglet, adding her own words to Pasiphae. She gasps as the wyvern leaps and lands, snatching up the piglet. The beast on the ground walking was frightening enough, but leaping through the air like that? On second thought, perhaps she won't try to ride it.

A glance at Naiadre reveals the truth: this priestess of Pasiphae was unable to watch the outcome. Her head is turned away, face curtained behind skeins of dark blue hair. But as Nikare speaks, she turns her head again, finding him and the drake with wide eyes and a slow nod. Swallowing convulsively, she moves forward, surprisingly steady on her feet.

Nikare makes a few more adjustments to the stirrups after judging the Atlantean's slight figure. A momentary squint leads him to drag a step-stool for assistance. He holds the firedrake still with a tight grip. "Step there," he gently taps the stirrup with the head of the mace. "Then over."

Naiadre swallows hard against the lump in her throat, glancing over her shoulder at her daughter and Jasmine to smile faintly. Turning back, she places one sandal-clad foot upon the stool, then the stirrup and then she's astride. Hands knot immediately upon the pommel of the saddle and her eyes go wide as she looks up at the beast she's actually /sitting/ upon. And suddenly, some of her agitation leaves her. Just enough that she can appreciate with awe the wyvern she's astride. Her mouth actually gapes slightly in very unlady-like fashion. "Pasiphae's Tits." She murmurs softly.

Nikare cannot say that he expected that sort of curse, tonight. He registers some astonishment at the choice while making sure that Naiadre's well settled. This time he is careful not to introduce any more surprises. He wants this to be a nice, simple strut around the interior of the paddock. "Tch-tch." A tap here, a little tug there, and the vaiysa beasthandler seems to be getting what he wants out of the wyvern.

Leioni covers her eyes as her mother mounts, burying them in her hands and her ribbons, lowering them only when she doesn't hear any shouts of fear and anguish. Well... it looks to be going well... but she won't feel safe until they're both far away from the wyvern. She doesn't hear her mother's curse, she's too far away. Likely a good thing, as it would be immediately woven into her vocabulary.

Naiadre unknots her hands enough so that they are at least getting a little blood flow to them again. She's more clinging to the saddle than anything, her slight weight likely of little notice to the great wyrm. But besides the nervousness, there's also a sense of excitement and amazement. From its back, everything seems just a little different.

Jasmine wraps an arm around Leioni's shoulders in an effort at giving comfort. "See, she will be fine," she urges the young girl.

Maat's eyes dance with merriment. "Look at the brave Atlantean woman," she says, gesturing at Naiadre. "She has fed the beast and now it docilely circles the ring. This is a fine example of how the wyvern is not a danger to anyone when handled by one skilled with animals."

Nikare's animal does, at one point move his great knobby head so that he can take a long look at the Atlantean on his back. No doubt some wise-cracking Varati would suggest the 'drake looked forlorn-- cheated-- that the piglet appetizer was not followed up by a nice Atlantean meal. The creature yawns toothily, revealing rows of ivory fangs as it comes back around to conclude the ride.

Naiadre flinches at the sight of all those teeth and, as wondrous as the ride has been, she is thoroughly ready to dismount once it's over. Stepping carefully off the wyvern's back, she moves back to the gate before turning around to nod to Maat, Nikare, Zeyd and even the drake. "My thanks, Imphada, Imphadi. May Pasiphae Bless you all. This has been...most enlightening." With a brief smile, she bows again, then turns away, moving to collect her daughter with a quick hug. "See? I'm still in one piece!" Although her knees are wobbling something fierce.

Leioni finally does let loose the tears that have been threatening when the wyvern turns to bare its teeth at her mother, and is still sniffling when Naiadre dismounts. Residue tears don't impede her relief, though, and she offers a shaky smile to both Naiadre and Jasmine. "I was sure it was going to eat you," she says aloud, for the benefit of the crowd. "And now I am /all/ frightened. Can we go home?"

"Imphada," Nikare wishes the Atlantean well as she dismounts and clears the immediate vicinity. He looks and sees that the line is now ended and decides that it is probably good to quit while they are ahead. "I believe we have made our point, Imphada," he comments to his Qadi. "I shall take him back, now."

Jasmine tilts her head slightly. "I thought you wanted to ride the wyvern yourself?" she asks Leioni. She then notes that Nikare seems to be preparing to take him away though.

Naiadre reaches out to brush away a dried tear from Leioni's cheek lovingly. "Of course, dearling. We can go right now." As she straightens, she gives Jasmine a look that clearly says 'don't put any ideas in her head!'. Aloud, she ventures, "Thank you for staying with her, old friend. I hate to have scared her so, but I thought I might never get this chance again and the beasts have always fascinated me. I hope we'll see you again soon?"

Leioni shakes her head vehemently. "I'm not brave enough," she stage-whispers to Jasmine, eyes wide. "Mother will tell me all about it, I think." A pause, and then she offers a considerably brighter smile. "Thank you for the ribbon, and for staying with me."

Maat gives Nikare a curt nod. At her gesture, two shudra boys dart in from around the pen and begin to haul open the gate. "I shall see that the rest of the piglets make it back to the Xane. Your good steed deserves a treat."

Jasmine nods to both Leioni and Naia. "Blessings on you both. I will talk to you later," she notes, particularly to Naia. "I think I will head out myself."

Naiadre turns away, reaching to put an arm around Leioni's shoulders. "Come on. I can tell you all about it on the way home." She says aloud as they wander back towards the stairs to the water below and home.