ℙ◎ґcℯℓαїᾔ Ḡłαsṧ discussion

~RP~ (A place of buy/sell/trade)

Dale strolled into the market with only one thing in mind, he needed more paint and he needed it five minutes ago. His current painting would be incomplete without it and he really shouldn't leave the art gallery unattended for too long. Then again, it was a slow just like every other day. Shaking his head, Dale picked up the pace, his bright green eyes darting around in search of some blue paint - someone around there should be selling it, right? Right? Dale might just die if doesn't end up finding any. If his painting ends up being incomplete by the end of the day, chances were he would trash it simply out of frustration. He hated it when things were incomplete, not one of his finer qualities.

(x.x sorry the post is crap >.< i wasn't sure how to start it)

((It's fine. Sorry for the late reply))

Jonquil moved through the crowd of people trying to get past. She wore her usual uniform, a green dress which ended at her knees and black cloth slippers. Over it she wore her own blue cloak, the hood drawn back. The market was crowded as usual, and as usual she was sent out to get whatever it was the Royals needed to stock up on. And today it was art supplies for the art lessons among the groceries, and other needed supplies in the castle. Usually, she would have split the work with Gregory, but he was not at the castle today so she was on her own, carrying a heavy bag of food trying to move through the market place in search of oil paints and new brushes and pastels and whatever else was on the list. After moving through a group of arguing merchants and customers, thinking she would have some room to breathe, she emerged through the crowd only to run right into some man. Her bag slipped from her hand and she started to fall backwards.

Honestly, Dale was annoyed when he felt someone bump into him, causing him to stumble back a step, but upon noticing it was a girl, he quickly jumped into action. Leaning forward, he nimbly slipped one arm around her waist, pulling her to him so she wouldn't fall onto the ground, and with his other hand he grasped at her bag, but he wasn't fast enough as the bag ended up hitting the ground, the contents scattering in every which direction. Not being a muscle man this sort of put a strain on Dale's body, but at least he was able to keep her from falling. With a grunt, he made sure she was standing upright before letting her go. "There you go. Not a scratch on you. I think." He spoke mechanically, almost as if he wasn't used to talking to random people on the street. Not saying much else, he bent down and began gathering her things, feeling as if it was partially his fault that she almost fell over. After all he was lost in his own little world, not paying much attention to the people bustling around him. Pain was on his mind, it was all he could see.

Jonquil's breath caught as the young man caught her and pulled her forward. They ended up standing there awkwardly for a moment before he let her go. "Thank you." She said simply, crouching down to grab all that which had fallen from the ground. Her hands moved quickly as she picked up the contents and took those which the young man handed to her, managing not the get her fingers crushed as she inspected what she could salvage and what would need to be bought again. She sighed, seeing most would need to be rebought as people had already stepped on many of the contents. She was about to get up, but someone from behind pushed her to the side and moved past, causing her to fall to the ground. Her ability didn't kick in though, as she wasn't in any sort of danger, and she ended up cutting her palm along the cobble stone. "Servant scum, all crowding the damned market." Said a male voice. Jonquil caught a look at the shoes and saw it to be a nobles. She bit the inside of her cheek, and stayed quiet. Pressing her hand into her cloak. At least she managed to hold on the bag.

Dale thought nothing of his earlier action aside from now his arm hurt a little. Perhaps it was time for him to start exercising more. Yeah right, as if that was going to happen. "Most of these things will need to be rebought," he said matter-of-factly. He gathered what he could salvage, placing them in the bag as he did so. "I can compensate you for the thing you need to buy again. I should have been more care-" He was cut off when she fell forward again, but this time Dale wasn't fast enough to catch her. He cringed when he saw her fall, obviously getting hurt in the process, but what made it worse for him was the rude comment that followed. Oh how Dale would have loved to stand up and give the Noble a piece of his mind, but that meant death, and Dale wished to live a few more years before dying tragically and all his paintings being sold far more than they're worth. So instead, he sighed and looked at the girl sympathetically, but couldn't think of what to say to her. Standing back up to his full height, Dale reached out a hand down to her, an offer to help her up. "Are you hurt?" He asked, his voice deep but low as if he wanted to remain invisible to the rest of the people moving around them.

Jonquil had been about to answer him and tell him that there would be no need for him to compensate for anything. She had enough money to buy the supplies again. It would just be cut from her pay. Which wouldn't be the highlight of her day. But she could work extra to make it up. Sure money was tight. But she wasn't a begger. She could pull her own weight. Though, as the thoughts were about to come words she was pushed. "I'm fine." She said after a moment, keeping her hand pressed into the cloak, trying to keep the blood from dripping. "And there will be no need for compensating anything. Though if you could tell me where to find art supplies, it would be greatly appreciated."

Dale now just felt confused. Or was it conflicted? He felt bad for the girl, but wasn't sure what to do so he wouldn't feel so guilty even though not all of it was his fault. Nonetheless the feeling was eating away at his insides. How strange. His eyes flickered to the hand she was keeping hidden in her cloak, somehow doubting that she was fine, but let it drop because it wasn't any of his business. Though at the mention of art supplies, he perked up almost instantly, forgetting all else that just happened not even a moment ago. "Yes, art supplies. I know where they are. I am looking for some myself," he said, sounding a little more friendly than before. "They should be this way." He motioned for her to follow him as he began walking again. "Are you an artist?"

Jonquil waited for him to speak, as he thought with a confused expression on his. When he finally did speak, and started walking, she followed behind him, grateful for his assistance. She wouldn't have been able to find the art supplies on her own in time. At his question, she shook her head. "No. They're for the children at the palace. For their art lessons." She explained. Besides, there wasn't enough time or money for her to take up the hobby. Though she did like to admire beautiful artworks, when she came upon them. When she first started working at the palace she was reprimanded for stopping to look at all the art around. Now she was used to it's unusual beauty.

"Oh. Right, of course." And his eyes dulled as he nodded his head as if he understood when he really didn't. "For the children." 'Because obviously they create just masterpieces with their finger painting and such nonsense.' Dale kept that thought to himself because he knew he could come off as rude. Glancing over at the girl, he gave her a quick once over, not having done so before, and decided she was a servant. Now, Dale was a servant too, well he was in the class of Servants, but he was an artist. Not that many people enjoyed the work he does, but only because they couldn't understand it. Looking ahead again, Dale kept an eye out for the vendor he normally went to for his artistic needs. "Should be too far ahead," he said after a moment of silence.

Jonquil noticed how quickly his sudden excitement dissipated when she stated that the art supplies were for the Grace children. If she was a one of the servants who liked the Grace children, she may have said that they were actually semi talented artists. But there was one rule in her work. Never say anything about the employer's unless it was a given order. If she was one of the people who could have kept a conversation going, if she wished to keep a conversation going, she could have mentioned her older, twin brother -Jacob-, was an artist. But she didn't. As per usual, she kept her words to herself and just soaked in the words which were said to her. Replying only with a nod.

Not talking was Dale's forte. In fact he loves it when he doesn't have to talk and people don't talk to him. However, for a change, it felt awkward. Thing hardly ever felt awkward for him since he was never aware how the other person felt when they were around him, but Dale was very aware of this servant girl that walked beside him. He didn't fidget or attempt at a conversation, though he would glance at her on occasion and wondered if she was lying about her hand. It was still hidden in her cloak, which made it hard for him know, but really it shouldn't worry him so much. Looking ahead again, Dale cleared his throat. "Do you paint?" What a strange question to start off a conversation, but this was Dale and he was all about the art. "I understand the art supplies are for the children, but do you paint in your spare time?"

Dawson was set up in his general place, somewhere right in the middle of all the chaos. To be entirely honest you got a hell of a lot of money there and it was a complete pain in the ass to get the spot but well worth it. Dawson was someone who didn’t like to sell anything specific, it attracted people in a way he would never understand; If he could he would sell everything worth your wild, unfortunately that was impossible. But he took what he could get and didn’t complain about it. At the moment he was talking to customers left a right, coming around the side to pick things up for people who asked or pointed to things. He was used to the noisy market so his tone was heard over all the mingling people as well as everyone that was there just because they had to people. Even in the midst of his conversation with a servant that came to him regularly he waved people over to him without so much as a second glance. Bidding the girl farewell he walked off around to his post. This was the market for you; hell this was Dawson for ‘ya. Someone that multitasked so easily it was like a sixth sense.

Dawson looked up from what he was doing, which was filing his profit away. He shut up his money tight and came back around, nodding at the servants in return before they shuffled back to whatever they had been looking forward. He tended to pay customers like Asa a lot of attention, if he lost people like them he’d lose a hell of a lot more money then he would ever dare. He grinned at him, honestly he liked this kid for more than his money. Dawson could actually joke around with the guy, their conversations were short and sweet but easy going and something he honestly wish he could have more of, but nope. He was always here, nearly every moment he was here, when he wasn’t he didn’t generally find time for leisure. “Hey Ace.” He nodded his head in greeting, using the nickname he’d grown accustomed too in return to ‘Daws’. It wasn’t often you came by someone that he would let call him something other than his name, sometimes customers – selling or buying – called him things but he didn’t exactly like to complain. After all they kept coming so what could he do about it anyway? Wiping his hands together, dust coming off because his hands were on rusty metals all the time, he grinned at Asa. All the metal was the one reason he didn’t like selling food, though sometimes he couldn’t help but get some apples laying around. “What can I do you for today?” he asked him, eyes automatically catching the leather rolled object. “Selling today?”

“Lord have mercy, Ace, she’s a beauty.” Dawson replied, reaching out to run two fingers down the slope of the blade. He could practically feel power exude off this thing. “My friend, you have a gift; It’s terrible you’ve gotta sell it, on your part anyway.” He added there at the end with a half grin, patting Asa on the shoulder. True it was going to go for a lot on the market, my my he could cash in big on this one. Asa’s crafts tended to sell quickly, whether to boy knew it or not Dawson didn’t bother to really say much unless he was asked, to busy playing the game of who’s-got-the-most-customers to dive into the details. But at the moment his full attention was set on this and this only, letting men and women alike mill around what he was selling. He sold what seemed like all day, but then again he practically took everything in that he was offered too. “How much you selling it for, then?”

And he damn well knew it too, the fact that that was lowly priced that is, but he didn’t say anything. He only nodded his head, gaze remaining on Asa or his sword. He didn’t make too much of a show when the customers came around to look at whatever Asa brought him, it made him look to conceded as far as money went. Besides, he understood his friends theory or making a living despite what it took sometimes, it was his life. And just because of that he said, “I’ll give 15, just cause this is one of the best I’ve seen.” And that was a deal, even reached out his hand to console it, seal it tight. Knowing Asa he’d bring back something just as good the next time he came around. Dawson may be one out for the money, his family needed it, but he was a good guy, sometimes he knocked the price down a little bit. But only for certain people. Much like Asa’s father wouldn’t approve of the low price his family wouldn’t like his ways much either. “Got a deal?”

Dawson firmly shook his hand, letting him hold on to it a bit longer as he went back around to his batch of money. He took out what he promised, counting it as Asa made small talk with him, this is usually how it went to be honest. “You could say so, I don’t get much time to count everyone that comes around.” He answered nonchalantly, filing everything together and handing it to the craftsman over the table, reaching out to take the finely crafted sword carefully out of his hands. He kept the swords and what not behind the desk of objects for safe keeping, if there’s one thing he couldn’t afford to lose it was the weapons, lord they cost a fortune down here in the market. “I will say that it’s not as busy I would like, some guy just opened up a new space further up the street and it’s pissing me off because he always seems to get to people first.” He said, rubbing a hand through his mass of curls. It was awful hot out today. “On the upside my families good,” he pointed to his right to answer a waiting customers constant attempts to question. “Save Olivia’s stubborn attitude … how about yours?”

(("...he doesn't have what you have my friend ... a jawline to die for." *dies* xD))

“I would, believe me I’d like to take that guy on face to face, but alas I can’t afford to move. It took enough sweat to get this far into the center.” Dawson said shaking his head, his lips breaking into an honest grin. This is why he liked Asa, not because he complimented him despite all teasing nature, but because he was a guy that seemed to enjoy making you laugh. But he didn’t comment on the matter, not really, only rolled his eyes and turned his palms up to grab the edge of the table, leaning forward slightly, the gleaming sword looking mighty hung on the back with the rest. “I guess you’re right, but she’s seventeen, I would’ve thought she would just sucked it up by now. But no, we have a hard enough time with me out here all day but can’t send her in because of that sharp tongue.” He shook his head, looking less than irritated. He showed emotion more through verbal encounters than physical ones. “One day she’s going to meet someone that’s not going to take any lip from her.” He leaned back again, crossing his arms over his chest comfortably while listening. He hadn’t really met Asa’s father to be honest but was truly curios anyway. “Yeah? Well if you’re making stuff like this one here,” he nodded behind him to the sword. “Then I don’t think anyone should complain.”

Dawson gave a laugh in return, shaking his head, even if they were in the same class he doubted Olivia would take a long enough look at someone to actually like them, much less whatever poor bastard gets her as a wife. But he told himself that she would grow into it, if not that then hopefully into marketing for them because they needed the money, Ma and Pa could only take the heat for so long. “Unfortunately I’m hoping she meets that person soon.” He admitted as innocently as the craftsman’s own question, but then shrugged it off. He tapped his fingers against the wood as he thought, that jaw of his shifting side to side like it always did when he was in thought. “Tonight?” he asked aloud, more to himself than to Asa in turn. “Hm, you know what, yeah. I’ll see you there at six, seven maybe?” He was winging the time but they usually ended up at there as the same time as the other anyway, it didn’t matter that they had different jobs – though they did go very well hand in hand – the hours they worked just seemed to correspond that way.

Dawson laughed at the outshow of emotion, “Seven.” He repeated with a nod of satisfaction. He nodded his head and gave one wave of his hand as a goodbye and farewell until then and went back to his customers, getting himself busy again. Let’s just say people had seen the sword almost at once and whomever was able to buy it was out for it. He’d have to go on and tell Asa later. Honestly the visits to the pub were the highlight of his week, home was all ‘how much did you sell today, Dawson?’ ‘Customers still coming?’ and then a bunch of bickering between his parents and Olivia. He couldn’t help himself but wonder briefly how she would get along was Ace, after all he seemed to hit it off well with everybody. Shaking off the thought and putting his head back in the game Dawson got to work.

Cheryl [can you feel my heart] wrote: "Not talking was Dale's forte. In fact he loves it when he doesn't have to talk and people don't talk to him. However, for a change, it felt awkward. Thing hardly ever felt awkward for him since he ..."

((I swear I posted. >< ))

Jonquil shook her head at his question. She wasn't surprised that he had spoken. The silence seemed to have made him uncomfortable. Despite the heavy air between them, she was fine with silence. She enjoyed it. Silence was golden. Being the youngest of nine meant she dealt with all the children of her other siblings, and then the bickering of her old siblings. There was never a quiet household. And then at the royals, all orders were given not with a soft spoken voice, but a loud cringe worthy yell. "My brother does though." She said.

(^^ it's all good, sadiya~)


Once again Dale perked up. "Does he now? What does he paint? Landscapes, people? A mix of things?" he asked. Anything concerning painting was Dale's thing. "Has he done many paintings?" He couldn't help but want to badger this girl with questions, though he paused since she finally realized he didn't know her name, and she didn't know his. How impolite of him. "Excuse me, I should have introduced myself first. I am Daley Duane, or simply Dale. I am the manager of the Art Gallery in the Performing District." Then he looked down at her with his bright green eyes as if expecting her now to tell him a little about herself as he had done.

Layla was wandering aimlessly through the market, munching on an apple that she had just bought from one of the stalls. She had another two in her bag for later. Business at the dress shop was pretty dull today and she had finished up her latest designs this morning, which meant she had the remainder of the day to do as she pleased unless there was some kind of fashion emergency. Those snobby nobles and their need for perfection.

Stopping to glance at whatever caught her eye made her stroll through the market unnecessarily long, seeing as she was easily distracted. Layla had just moved on from a stall that was selling various colorful beads - she was considering coming back later and buying a few- when she saw something that was even more pleasing to the eye: David Barrow, her friend and fiancé. Layla smiled mischievously and decided to sneak up on him, knowing full well that he wasn't fond of surprises. She ducked behind a woman carrying multiple baskets and bags and followed closely until she was right behind David. "Guess who?" she asked in a deep raspy voice, reaching up and covering his eyes with her hands.

Layla grinned and did a little courtesy. "Why thank you," she said. She didn't respond to his request about not surprising him again. He asked that every time and she always did it again. Resistance on his part as futile. Layla looked down at her hands, which he was still holding, and raised an eyebrow. They were still in that awkward in-between stage where they had become pretty good friends, but neither of them had expressed any sentiments for or against their imminent marriage. Layla had never been good at explaining herself and this situation made it even more difficult. She wasn't sure how she felt about a romantic relationship. Knowing about his past didn't help either. In truth, she just wasn't sure whether she could live up to his expectations.

Layla smiled up at him. "I didn't expect to find you here. I thought you'd be working. So, what are you up to?" she asked. "Buying a present for a certain redhead you know?" she asked teasingly. Unless that present was hot food, it was clear that he wasn't here for her.

Layla flicked her hair in his face as she turned towards the stall. "I see, well if that's how you really feel," she said, pulling the second apple out of her bag and taking a bite. She perused the variety of food at the stall, and bought a couple slices of banana nut bread. "Well, since we're both here, do you want to have lunch together?" she asked, paying the vendor. As much as they pushed each other's buttons sometimes, Layla really did like spending time with him. She had tried going to see him at work, but found she often just got in the way.

((Sorry for the short post, I'm like half asleep))

Layla rolled her eyes. "Do you usually have objections ready? Wow David, you sure know how to flatter a woman," she said. He wasn't exactly the most tactful person, but at least he was honest. "And no, I will not be accompanying you back to work. A repeat of last time probably wouldn't be in anyone's best interest." Layla walked with him to one of the benches scattered around the marketplace and sat down. "So, how has your day been?" she asked.

"Well your sense of humor leaves something to be desired," Layla said with a smile. She popped a piece of bread into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully while she listened to him. "Hm, I'm sorry," she said. He didn't like to talk about Maddy with anyone, let alone her, but she knew he was still in the process of adjusting, so she had some sympathy for him. "It there's anything I can do to help, just let me know." Layla doubted there was much that she could actually do, but she wanted him to know she was there if he needed her. "Tomorrow is your day off, right? I know you'll probably want to sleep in and get some rest, but do you want to hang out in the evening? Nothing formal, maybe just a walk or something?" she suggested.

((Sure, no problem :) ))

"Oh," Layla said, trying to hide her disappointment. She knew it wasn't his fault; they both had to work to support themselves and even then, sometimes it wasn't enough, but she had been looking forward to spending some time with him. He hadn't had much spare time lately and she'd only been able to see him in passing. Just long enough for a conversation, but not much more. Being a dress designer, Layla had a much more flexible schedule than he did and it was easier for her to take some time off as long as she met her deadlines and personal appointments. "Um, when are you free then?" she asked, tearing off another piece of bread and eating it. She glanced over at him and hoped he'd take his time eating his sandwich, especially if this was the only chance they'd get to just relax together for a while. She didn't want to be too clingy, but they were getting married after all. They'd have to get used to each other's company.

Layla sighed. "Alright. Well I'll be in the shop for the next couple of days, just overseeing things. I completely trust the seamstresses, but I like to look over the finished product," she said with a shrug as she finished her bread. She rested her head on her shoulder, not in some romantic gesture, but because she didn't really have any boundaries when it came to personal space. "You should come see me," she said. "Whether you feel up to it or not. You don't always have to be at your best when you're with me, you know," she said gently. Layla wanted him to fell comfortable around her no matter what mood he was in, but she didn't want to push him.

Layla sat up straight again, glad that he had agreed to her request. Still, he wished he didn't have to go so soon. "Don't worry about it. I completely understand," she said, getting to her feet. "Go, build some things!" she said enthusiastically, though she didn't quite feel that way. "I have a few errands to run anyway. I guess I'll just see you when I see you," she said vaguely. Layla felt like their entire relationship was just vagueness. They weren't certain of anything, especially how they felt about each other.

((Do we want to continue this or take a break?))

Esme, arm still linked to her future husbands - should I consider him my fiancé? - arm, entered the market with a sort of wonder in her eyes. Why had she always gone to the library whenever she came here? It seemed so dull compared to this place. With all the hustle and bustle, the chatter and chitter, and the selling and buying it was a magnificent trading point. No wonder it was always so crowded as they walked by little shops set up men and women of the merchant class shower of their talk-to-it skills. At least they were making money for themselves. She couldn't but wonder briefly how much money, enough? Esme finally manager to settle her gaze back on Basile, ripping her green eyes away from everything around her. "Oh my, it's always this busy? Ah, it's brilliant." She added quietly to herself, unaware if he was listening closely enough to head at all. It alright if he didn't, she could hold her wonder close to herself. It may be considered a bit sad that she was finding this trip so lovely but really at this point she didn't care. Esme quite liked it here and aimed to let herself be, embarrassment hiding itself away.