Ingredients and Miscreants, --Open

[Wren Faintree]

Wren browsed through the market stalls, looking for a very specific list of items. A chunk of rose quartz, a few hawk feathers, a bit of lavender, and some nice squares of leather. The items had been hastily scrawled down on a bit of parchment which she held tightly in her hand. She stopped at one stall, finding several sprigs of lavender that would do wonderfully for her purposes. Wren placed them in her basket and paid the vendor. "Thank you."

Now for the hawk feathers. Those would probably take her the longest to find. Wren walked slowly through the marketplace, attention more on the wares than the people. It didn't matter much. Even if she had been watching her steps carefully her shoulders would be frequently bumped by others. It was a crowded market and collisions were just one of the many hazards of shopping at midday.

Finally Wren spotted a promising stall. They had feathers, but not hawk feathers. Could the enchantment work with a falcon feather? Wren frowned a little. It could make no difference in the enchantment, or it could be a disaster. She picked up a white feather, most likely from a swan. It could work. Maybe. She just wasn't sure. "Are you sure you don't have any hawk feathers? Alright. I'll take one of these then." She told the vendor, unsatisfied with her choice even as she paid him.

Wren had hardly made it away from the stall before she felt the brush of a pickpockets hand against her thigh. She grabbed the hand before it could reach her purse and grasped it firmly, whispering in Duroian. The palm of her hand quickly heated, burning the pickpocket's wrist where she held it. "Be careful who you steal from, fool." Wren muttered before releasing the pickpocket. It wasn't a serious burn. Just something to sting for a while. She looked around to see if anyone had seen the altercation.

The coast looked clear, but it would probably best that she headed for home.

[Zaman Jaraei]

Zaman stretched lazily, arcing his back and pushing up with his hands.

He felt the satisfying crack of the joints along his vertebrae, even as the muscles of his arms and legs tensed and strained.

It felt good.

He'd stood here for over an hour, his sword sheathed and his eyes lazily taking in the market. As usual, a throng of people moved in and out of the narrow, stifling space. Faces came and went, some hostile, but more oblivious. A few smiled at him, nodded his way. Zaman waved back.

For the most part, market duty was boring. He preferred the Refugee Quarter, with its loud, angry people. He preferred the looks they gave him—the cold, hateful looks. But also he liked the food and the atmosphere. There was just something so raw about it all. He liked not knowing who wanted him dead. He enjoyed watching people spit answers at him. So friendly. So sunny! What a joyous place!

Also there were the girls. Those were definitely a bonus.

So he was doing this thing—this thinking about the Refugee Quarter—when he spotted a woman moving through the crowd. At first it was nothing, just another pretty face to spend a second too long looking at. And then he saw the thief. Before Zaman could really react, he watched the woman grab the boy's wrist and hiss something. He saw smoke at the point of contact and then watched the thief pull back sharply—as if he'd been burned.

Well then...

He stepped off his little pedestal and made straight for her, a wry little smile on his lips. Pulling up next to her, he gave her a nod of approval.

"I like what you did back there. The burning his wrist thing was a particularly nice touch."

[Wren Faintree]

Wren stiffened, but successfully resisted the urge to jump. Her eyes shifted to look at the soldier standing next to her. Was he honestly impressed or about to get her in trouble? Like most Refugees she harbored an automatic distrust of soldiers.

Realizing she couldn't exactly deny what she had done because he had seen it all, Wren gave a slight nod. "I'm sure it's a touch he'll remember for a while, at least." Her lip twisted in a slight smirk. Some touch alright. "He got what was coming to him." She finished quickly, back on the defensive again. It didn't matter what the guard looked like or how friendly or how approving he seemed. All citizens, especially soldiers, were untrustworthy until proven otherwise.

"I assume there's no need to arrest him now." The thief had already been punished, after all. At least for trying to steal her things. The hand that had inflicted the burn, now cool, reached up to flick a bit of hair from where it had started to fall into her face.

[Zaman Jaraei]

She was smart.

A+. Ahead of the curve.

His grin widened. “Technically we just give them a cuff on their ear and talk to them very sternly, but arresting is good too.” The problem with arresting was having to escort the prisoner places. They kicked, they whined, they bargained—five stages of incarceration and all that.

“Sometimes I even wag my finger at them.” He lifted his finger and did just that, chastised a hypothetical thief.

[Wren Faintree]

Her eyebrow arched as she watched him was his finger. Though her face was impassive, even cold, she was amused. Wren had gotten very good at that. Looking stern on the outside even when she was smiling on the inside.

"I'm sure your finger wagging appropriately shames all the miscreants." Wrens shoulders relaxed. He didn't seen like he was going to be a threat to her. However, any attempt to grab the arm nearest to him would end unpleasantly. She always had a few charms prepared for bad situation and contained in the thin leather bracelets wrapped around her wrist.

Would temporary blindness or paralysis be the better option? Neither lasted more than a few seconds, but that was plenty of time to escape in this crowd.

But maybe he wouldn't be a threat at all.

[Zaman Jaraei]

"I can look pretty stern if I want to." Zaman made a comically harsh face, his eyebrows pinching together and his mouth thinning into a fine line. It was a bastardization of seriousness—hilariously so. He pulled his hand back and dropped it to his side.

"So!" His countenance changed—back to happy. "Nice weather we're having."

It was a lie; they were having terrible weather. Cold, wet, wintery.

[Wren Faintree]

"Intimidating." Only if he was trying to make his audience think that there was something wrong with his brain, though. Clearly not a man who tried to be serious often. Wren shook her head. Funny, but her stern mask was still in place.

Was he really making small talk now? She was a refugee, he was a citizen and a soldier. There was no mistaking it, Wren knew she didn't blend in with the citizens. Not with her rough brown dress and patched grey shawl that kept her insulated from the miserable weather.

Her stern expression broke ever so slightly, mostly around the eyes. "Yes, you look the type to enjoy this weather."

[Zaman Jaraei]

Well of course she was a refugee.

Why else would he talk to her?

His grin sharpened a fraction more. "We Escovans love the cold," he proclaimed, no hint of irony in his voice. “It's why our ancestors moved here in the first place. They got tired of all the tropical weather and pleasant beaches. They were like, 'you know what, we've had enough of this frivolous luxury—onward to cold shores and typhoons!'" He paused. "And that's how Escova was founded.”

A story, by Zaman Jaraei.

[Wren Faintree]

Wren finally smiled.

"And you Escovans say we're the strange ones." She shook her head, smile still curving on his lips. "At least we have a reason for leaving our warm, sandy beaches." Like death, lots of death. Her smile faltered a little but returned quickly. "Strange, the lot of you."

[Zaman Jaraei]

She smiled.

Which was good, because Zaman was beginning to wonder if she was one of those people—you know, the ones who were too busy or whatever. Nope, no time to smile today. Let's set up an appointment. I have Wednesday free—would you like to see my teeth then?

"Yeah, we have some crazy ideas." Like Multiculturalism. Hilarious.

He looked down the road they were taking and turned to her. "Where are we going anyway?"

[Wren Faintree]

Wren checked her crumpled list again. "I'm heading to wherever I can get some quality leather." She cocked an amused eyebrow at the man. "I'm not entirely sure where you're going though. Unless you intend to follow me and make conversation all the way through my errands."

She wouldn't mind that, actually.

[Zaman Jaraei]

“Well I could do that.” Not that he had anything to do. Guarding things was fun, but he could spare an hour on this. Not that anyone cared. He would just tell them he ended up chasing thieves for a few hours.

It could happen, right?

“Also, you're going the wrong way for quality leather,” he said, clasping his hands behind his back.

[Wren Faintree]

"Oh really?" Wren stopped and looked at the man. "Then why don't you lead the way to this quality leather?" So he was good for more than just conversation. Fancy that.

"I'm Wren, by the way."

[Zaman Jaraei]

He grinned at her.

“Yar Zaman.”

He would have shaken her hand, but he'd seen what she did to the last person who touched her, so he was good, thanks. She could take her magical burning hands elsewhere.

He cut a quick corner, turning sharply into a smaller street off the one they were going. “See the trick is to buy from the tanners themselves. I mean it smells like shit inside, but they're nice people and really, who doesn't like a discount?” He turned and pulled his tunic up to show off his belt. “I bought this for like....six copper? Works like a charm. Keeps my pants up all the time.” His smile was a little sly, and his wink a little too clever.

Then he turned and tore through the streets again, his pace a little too quick for a pleasant stroll.

[Wren Faintree]

Wren eyed his belt and arched an eyebrow. "All the time?" Somehow his smirk just didn't seem to belong to a man that kept his pants up all the time. "I never thought about going to the tanners directly." Wren could certainly put up with a bad smell if it meant a steep discount. She didn't have that many finer sensibilities to offend. She had to hurry to keep up with him as he turned corners. At least it was clear he knew where he was going, but what was his rush? If he had to be somewhere he didn't have to actually take her to the tanners.

She kept her mouth shut though, since he was helping her out.