Swoopin through the skies stealin yo foods (Open)

[Ruurik]

Ruurik The day had hardly started yet the sun was already bearing down heating everything it touched. The heat was rather intense but it was a dry heat and thankfully there was a rather pleasent breeze as well. The vendors had set up early, as always and a good number of people had trickled into the market. All over the market vendors called out to passerby trying to get people to come over and buy their items. Myriads of smells permeated the air from the stench of fish, to the scent of freshly baked bread even the pungent smell of perfume. Above all the hustle, the bustle and the smells was a vulture perched on a the edge of a roof. The vutlture had a small half-eaten roll clutched in one of it's claw, a pair of ratty pants with a bandolier clicked through it's leg. Ruurik swooped his neck down and took a bite of the bread, lifting his leg slightly. Ruurik had taken the roll from one of the baker stalls, the vendor was new hadn't even noticed him swooping through the air and snatching the roll. What Ruurik really wanted was some fish, he was staring intently at the stall of a fishmonger across the way. The fishmonger however was familiar with him. Ruurik had taken his fish on occasion and the the fishmonger had seen some of his antics. The fishmonger was alert and ready, his eyes flickering up to the rooftop where Ruurik perched. Ruurik had been hoping for some oppurtunity to steal a fish but all the waiting was begining to bore him. Maybe he should go find a nice jewellry stall, he could always use some more shiny things. On the other hand the jewellry stalls were all pretty familiar with him and unless there was someone new they'd all be more on guard then the fishmonger. Maybe Ruurik could just follow someone today maybe if he was lucky they'd die and have some nice shiny things on them. Then Ruurik would get the meat he wanted and some more shinies. Ruurik began looking around hoping somone might catch his eye.

[Izdihar]

Amid the jewel slopes and razor lines of the Pavilion tents was the firm planted claim of the Westwinds. The noble house's stake was dead center, a staunch and imposing edifice housing the hawking cries and snake charming smiles of some of Ahnatep's most notorious hosts. Upon the outskirts of the crowd pressing against the economically arranged beer barrels and artistic tasting tables stood a young woman whom no one touched. Not a soul dared shoulder their way in haste past her to trod upon her toes or even so much as her shadow. The patrons of the Pavilion delivered her a wide berth, one composed of questionable parts respect, awe and fear. It was the same with any noble Eypharian within the bustling market, but for Izdihar, niece of Mersaba -- head of the House of the Westwinds -- it was increased due to the location of her present position within the easiest of reaches to any number of employees, servants, slaves and guards all in endless debt to the blood that coursed through her veins, infusing life to those lovely and gilded limbs. A mug of rich, frothy beer was cupped in both hands, the soft star stud of jewels decorating her bracelets shimmering in Syna's light; and she was squinting, kohl-lined eyes uptilted, fresh face set in an expression curious intent as she made study of the vulture roosting not so far above. Perhaps the intensity of her regard was due to the often doom laden forecasts delivered by her mystical, if distant, mother. Regardless, with the hem of burgandy silk brushing the ribbons of her sandals, she stared and took a slow sip from the fresh tapped brew at hand.

[Ruurik]

Ruurik A stray shimmer of light had shone directly into Ruurik's eye, it startled him at first causing him to to flap his wings slightly. Settling down Ruurik focused in on the origin of the of the light, tucking his wings back in as he did so, the light came from what appeared to be a jewel studded bracelet. The peice intrigued Ruurik greatly, for he currently had no jeweled peices of his own, all just being simple metal peices. It was awhile before Ruurik even really took notice of the woman the bracelet was being worn by. In Ruurik's eyes the woman was generally unremarkable, not due to any fault of the woman or any of the lengths she had gone to look pretty, Ruurik simply didn't care. From her six arms Ruurik could tell she was an Eypharian, the kind of people that showed a general distaste for him, especially if they found out he was actually a kelvic. Ruurik didn't really know why Eypharians treated kelvics with such distaste but then again he hardly cared, generally if he stayed out of their way they left him alone. This time however he wanted that bracelet, so he was willing to risk it. From his perch Ruurik flapped his wings powerfully a few times taking off into the air. Flying a few tight circle around the market Ruurik made sure to keep his eye on the Eypharian woman as he did so. Luckily most seemed to be giving her a rather wide berth so Ruurik hoped no one would interfere with him. Ruurik flew in smaller and smaller circles as he descended eventuall landing only several feet from the Eypharian woman. Ruurik waddled up to the woman tucking his wings back again as he did so. When he got closer Ruurik tilted his head so as to get a better look at the bracelet and squawked slightly.

[Jaspayia]

OOCTimestamp? Jaspayia looked up into the air as she heard a squawk that every Chaktawe knew, the sound of a predator of the dead. And there he was, flying round and round in his majestic carrion eating glory. Surely there was no rancid meat here, in the middle of the market? It was her job as a guide to notice things out of the ordinary, for failing to do so could result in death. She was here to meet a possible job, someone she'd heard needed her services. But the man hadn't approached her, and she was the only Chaktawe she'd seen in the market. She needed to find something to pass the time. She had no need for random baubles and trinkets that many here were selling. She wasn't particularly hungry, but she did need to build up her reserves if she were leaving town, especially if she had someone in tow. They were always starving by the end of the second day. Weaklings. She had no use for beer and grains, but if she could find some bread that would last, and was compact, she would be pleased. Her eyes scanned the goods of stalls as she walked past them, her nose taking in the baked smells. She was being careless, and nearly bumped into some Eypharian woman. They all looked the same to Jaspayia. Too many arms, too much adornment, and all with their nose pointed up toward Syna. She didn't apologize, but made to move past the woman that no other had dared to near.

[Sahreni]

OOCMaybe Summer 1st, 512? The bastard came sliding past the Pavilion stalls with all the speed and grace of a serpent in the sand, passing beneath a kaleidoscope of colored linen canopies and bright bars of raw sunlight. Sahreni's skin glittered in flashes, though something in his brown eyes looked invariably dark. His lips were sealed in a tightly drawn line, almost too tight, as if he expected unwanted words to come tumbling from his mouth. If one were privy to routines of his private life, one might guess that Sahreni was walking away from an insult. Despite not being four- or six-armed, Sahreni was still more lavishly dressed than nearly all of the Eypharians nearby. A clean scimitar, mostly ornamental and tucked into his black silk sash, boasted itself at his left side. The rest of his attire was appointed with tasteful flashes of jewel tones, and topped with a modest, white fur mantle that draped over the left shoulder. "Do you like it?" By the time Sahreni drew near to Izdihar, either oblivious or accustomed to the space she'd been given, he seemed to have forgotten about the traces of annoyance that had pulled at his features moments before. The halfblood indicated her drink with the cant of his head as he lingered beside her. "Uncle made a few changes to the last batch. This one is infused with cacao and vanilla. I'm undecided on it." The familiar rasp of a desert bird pulled Sahreni's focus downward, his eyebrows shooting up as he discovered the large, black feathered fowl approaching his cousin. Odd that a vulture, iconic of remote locations, would look so at ease in a sea of souls as thick as this one. Couldn't be someone's pet, could it? It was so remarkable that Sahreni forgot to be startled. "Friend of yours?" Not exactly a handsome animal. Vultures did not frighten Sahreni, but the thought of this large, mangy creature drawing so close was unnerving. Did something nearby smell like carcass? Before he could move to scare it off, Izdihar was nearly run over by a dark haired commoner rushing past the pavilions. The nerve of her—it was a right circus today. Ignoring the bird, Sahreni stepped to the side and reached for the Chaktawe woman, clapping his hand around her upper arm. He pulled her closer, not in any gentle way. The cold frustration returned to Sahreni's face as he scowled at her. "What is the matter with you? You ought to learn a little respect."

[Izdihar]

Izdihar observed the landing of the vulture with raised eyebrows, but unlike the common person she failed to take a step in retreat when the beast of a bird folded up its massive wings and ventured altogether too close to her dainty toes. Surprise writ itself upon her face, curving up the corners of her mouth in something not quite a smile. "Whatever are you doing?" She imposed the demand of an answer upon the creature as if the river gods blood in her Eypharian veins could coax even the dead-eaters to speak word. Sahreni's arrival drew her attention in half, clear eyes turning up to her cousin equally as undaunted. Fingers tightened a touch on her mug and, as he spoke of flavor and favor, she downed a slower swallow of the beer to reconsider its nuances. "I like it," she decided. The corners of kohl-lined eyes crinkled with the warmth of her smile. "Especially the vanilla. As for that bird being a friend, well," and here a teasing tone layered her voice. "Not yet. What --" She broke off at the jostle of the strange woman, instinct leaving her taking a step closer to the far more imposing figure of Sahreni. If the vulture failed to astound her, this disrespect did not. "Whatever are you doing?" She asked, less outraged than startled in an echo of herself. It was notable, perhaps, that she failed to deliver much distinction between the bird and the Chaktawe in her addressing them.