RP:Talk of the Season

Summary: Verah gives Cynarith a fake name, fake story and a pretty pendant while Cynarith gives Verah dreams of the high society life.

Open Market

Cynarith is picking up some supplies for her workers back at the construction site here in Cenril, but she always makes a pit stop to pick up some of her favorite rare items from the stalls here as they are always ever changing. The two well built bodyguards dressed smartly all in black are carrying many bags while she is free to peruse hands free, but they don’t mind because this is the norm for them. Oddly enough there is a bandage on her neck that she is trying to stylishly cover with a fine Alithryn silk scarf. Anyone she passes by turns and watches the pink haired woman as she moves along the fellow shoppers meandering through the market because the subtle scent accessorizing her presence reminds them of the summertime by the ocean. This is because the socialite is always wearing one of her signature perfumes from her CyCy Chunelle line which has been made popular in all of Elimdor and most of Vhys, but only a few know of the mogul here on the mainland. The anonymity is a nice break, although she still pretends to be a snobby heiress everywhere she goes.

Excitedly, she samples some of the highlighter still on display from some makeup startup that never really got off the ground. It’s a shame, she loves their products. Turquoise hues glance up at the overcast skies in attempts to get a sense of the time, but she figures she still has a bit of time to keep perusing any new stalls.

Verah made her rotations around Lithrydel. The thrifty nomad had to be cautious and not blatantly obvious about her order of towns and villages she visited and lingered at. She was also one to pick and choose what was available at her stall whether it was faux fortunes or pretty stoned jewelry and clothes she sold. At least the jewelry and clothes were authentic and hand-made by her, so hopefully that made up for the conning on the vulnerability of others. The elven blonde matches the colors of Cenril, as if she was born and grew up near the waves in the sea. A long silken, sea-blue duster that was embroidered with golden mystical swirls shrugs over the shoulders of a peacock blue dress with the same pattern of gold embroidering. Large moon-shaped gold earrings adorn her elven ears and her hair is wavy and tied half-up and half-down creating voluminous thick waves. Multiple rings settle on dainty, painted fingers. Was this girl extra or what? One would say, she was also someone who enjoyed products, pampering, and pretty things. Things are slow on the sea-side which adds some peace to the air that surrounds her as she finishes hanging some displayed dyed, dazzling clothing, like her own, as well as hanging jewelry hand-twisted by her. Pillows of various shapes splay on a large, patterned rug she had rolled out from her cart. Instead of pitching a tent, she decides that it is a beautiful enough day to be out in the open salty air. Out of the corner of her eye at the next stall, she catches hair that is pink. There is some pique of adoration at the color before caramel eyes shift over to the highlighter the woman is looking at. “Great pigment. I bought some earlier,” a lie, but she probably eventually would buy some. It was just another tactic to catch another customer. Seeming relatable.

Cynarith lets out a soft hum of agreeance, “long lasting as well. Simply made me look divine at the last season I attended,” the honeyed timbre is nearly ruined by the plummy affluent accent she has adopted to fit in with the elite of Elimdor. The ‘season’ she is referring to is the coming out season of young debutants seeking suitors at various garden parties, galas and balls. It is less of a necessary way of life these days with women being able to do just as much as men, but is more about tradition and gathering anymore. Her graceful gait allows her to seemingly glide on over to the stranger’s plot, “I already have one of every shade and was hopeful there would be some new products to purchase,” but there isn’t. “I even sent some to my brother, he adores products like that.” Her gaze drifts from the woman’s beautiful face to the various items for sale and her shapely lips curve into a small excited smile as if they are sharing a secret while she asks, “what have we got here?” It is unknown that she is actually a dragon, but being half red dragon gives her a hunger for pretty and unique things. Thanks a lot mom! She pinches the skirt of her designer dress to the back of her knees while lowering her seat down onto one of the empty pillows to closely inspect a pendant with a sapphire wrapped sort of gold wire on a gold twist chain. “May I?” She gestures respectfully to the piece so she may insect it further.

Verah studies the elveness of fashionable society. The grace and elegance radiating off the woman before her makes the desert elf straighten in her posture. The amount of various shades of make-up and brand give more subtle detail for the half elf to get a read on the stranger before her. High class. “Season?” There was a pique of interest. Verah was on the opposite end. Not poor, but not one from wealthy society, although she was and made beautiful things. A modiste, in a sense, if they were talking of high society. “Well, the season has only just begun. There’s still time.” Caramel eyes watch carefully, but keep an attentive, calm aura about them and she holds the turquoise gaze in front of her before following to the different pieces around the stall. There was a pull where the half elf kneeled down across from her on an opposite pillow, and she offered a steady nod. “Of course.” What could Verah conjure up about that…? “Wisdom, strength, kindness, and… normally one of pure royalty.” She paused. “I have a feeling for each one of my pieces. Symbolizes most wearers. I like to see what they choose.”

There was a slight inhale. “Through my years and years of travel, you tend to hear stories in different regions. Ones that still stand, some that have fallen. This stone I inherited in particular was outside of Lithrydel in a land that flowed with magic through the region. Legend has it, in a kingdom far away, sapphire boomed and the rulers of the land were guided by the jewels' wisdom–a magic embedded deep in the stones. This kingdom was all about ruling with fairness and compassion. However, whispers of envy and greed began to take over the region of the land and locals would go in and harvest these stones which caused the castle darkness and despair and to tank under.” Her eyes reflect up. “Dark, I know, but they now say the keepers of these stones are pure at heart. That they will inherit the wisdom and kindness from the magic inside them. The kingdom has long since fallen, so this is one of the stones that remain that I transformed into a pendant for the next wearer.” Not that Cynarith asked for a story–this bogus story. The sapphire most likely came from Xalious in the pits of the mines. “Beautiful, isn’t it? Now, tell me more about this season of yours?”

Cynarith gently lifts the beautiful piece. This is a genuine sapphire, she can tell and the way the gold wire cradles it has no rhyme or reason which makes the dragon side of her covet it more. A twinkle of humor glitters in her gaze as she locks them to the merchant, "Wisdom, strength, kindness and pure royalty." She stifles a snicker and it comes out in a soft snort, "I possess none of those." At least she pretends not to. "You think a piece like this could fool the circles I run in?" One of her hands reaches up to slip the silk scarf from her neck and now the bandage over the left side of her neck is visible. Gently, she holds the pendant close to the decolletage where the deep blue color contrasts beautifully against her perfectly dewy ivory skin. Her grin at the merchant is more conspiratorial now as if they are in on a con together.

While the story is being told, she actively listens while her well manicured fingertips adorned with nails in the shape of almonds and painted a ballet slipper pink caress over the jewel. 'Envy' and 'greed' are key words for Cynarith here because of her own greed along with her ambitions to be the envy of everyone. It is a lofty ambition and ugly ambition, but maybe this is why she doesn't ever truly let anyone close. This way no one can truly know her and use her kindness against her. She blinks out of the trance she somehow slipped into and, "blasted fools and their greed. It really is… How much for this pendant?" Her slender shoulders shrug up ever so slightly as she looks the merchant in the face, "well. It is set to begin the week after spring officially starts. All of the young debutants who are of age and willing are presented to eligible suitors. Anyone who is anyone throws a ball in their honor where they have a chance to get to know possible suitors while partaking in some champagne or wine and dancing."

With a wistful sigh she continues, "all of the women are draped in their finest gowns and dolled up to the heavens with their hair styled expertly while the gentlemen are looking smart in their tailored suits. Every woman hopes to fill their dance card and every man hopes to steal the hearts of who they consider to be the prettiest belle of the season. I throw a grand ball at my home in Elimdor, Hazelbend Chateau, every year and just love the excitement in the air," even though such things have been lost on the cynical woman for quite some time. A few years ago I sponsored a young woman who met her husband at my ball and now they have two little ones," she brags shamelessly, but she cannot help it. She was like the little sister she never had… Well she has a little sister, but she is seriously weird.

Verah’s face might have fallen at the snort, if she was not so adamant of getting what she wanted. Her lips twitch as they want to frown at rejection. The debutant was not a world that she knew, after all. “Well, what a contradictory statement about yourself. Knowing that you couldn’t fool the stiff ones around you, that seems rather wise to me, does it not?” That reflection of conspirator tone and that beautiful slyness comes out of her. If anyone knew Verah, she was also the greedy type. Perhaps Cynarith and Verah had a lot in common, only different social status. As the silken scarf falls, eyes gloss over the bandage around her neck, though, like a civilized woman, she would not pry, but her stare would not be hidden. Those eyes were glued on the bandage for longer than five seconds before shifting away. Nearby, the sun-kissed elf reaches for a nearby silver mirror and angles it in a way where Cynarith is able to see herself place that pendant close to her ivory skin. “I would think it would bring out your eyes, in the best of way, but I would also hope that you would have the right color palette to match for the season of yours, of course. A pretty steep price, but I’m willing to give a Felsol discount, as the snow begins to melt away.” She twists her lips. “I was putting it on the market for 1,375 gold pieces, but… I've had this for a while, and it needs to be shown,” this was truth pouring out of her. More widespread work, more customers. “So I’ll lower it to 775. I’m a traveler, I don’t tend to stick around often,” more truth. “So impact is what I do, or try to do.” The mirror is placed carefully down in her lap before she listens with mild awe at the words that flow from the disguised dragon’s mouth. Suitors, galas, drinks, dancing in the structured way most steps go. Images of vibrantly colored gowns flick across her mind, and if one were to look closely, the images of her brain almost reflect on that mirror that sat in her lap. Like an enchanted mirror. The illusionist feels the tingle of her fingers, and that the yearning of a socialite and wealth is seeping out of the cracks of the nomadic, mystical-appearing elf. “It sounds exquisite.” Is that not what most high society citizens said? Waltzing politely, but hot-gossiping behind the backs of the good-mannered. Everyone wears faux masks as it is a hunt of… finding a husband or wife. Verah has a ping of want, but knows that it could never be the life of her. Not with her record. “It sounds romantic. Beautiful that they found each other. Well, if you ever need any fabrics to choose from, or some custom-made jewelry you can send word to Chartsend. One of my more common pit-stops.” There is a pause. “With all that hosting and sponsoring, what do you get out of it…?” She did not have a name of the woman before her, so the question sort of lingers there.

Cynarith feels the corner of her mouth pull in a slight smirk. This merchant is good! "Nice catch," she admires the way she spun that and can see this one is going places. Her pink hued brow quirks upward slightly as she says in the most self assured way, "I look spectacular in any color palette." When numbers are being thrown about, Cynarith feels that thrill because of course she could pay whatever, but it is always fun to try and haggle. "If you're able to lower the price to 775 gold, why not lower?" Cynarith pretends to look thoughtful as she gazes over the bright skies of Cenril. "Say… 700 gold pieces?" It doesn't even matter if the merchant comes down further because she is already pulling free her silken coin bag from a unique looking purse.

The dragon can tell from the weight that there are just under 1,000 gold coins within as she hands it over. "I think I will wear it," she announces while clasping the chain around her own neck in case the merchant was going to gift wrap it or pop the beautiful item in a jewelry box. The chain snags briefly on the bandage square on her neck, but then nestles perfectly just above her cleavage as if it has always belonged there. While she was looking down to fasten the necklace on, she did notice the images dancing across the looking glass, but decided not to draw attention to it. "Oh, it is. Along with the tense air between new love and some drama lingering from bad blood between certain families. It is like watching a play go from bad to worse in the most wonderful way."

"I just may send word, miss?" She awaits an introduction of probably a fake name from the drifter of a merchant. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance, I am Cynarith," a kind smile spreads across her lips as she slips a crisp white business card into the merchant's hands. In bold black script it reads Cynarith in the top most center and then lists off her various businesses: CyCy Chunelle fragrance, Hazelbend Chateau, Lead to Gold Stables, Indigo, Nildran Construction Co. When the question was leveled her way, Cynarith did not feel compelled to lie like she usually does… no. For some reason, there is something she sees in this woman that she recognizes all too well. That hunger for more. Turquoise hues rest easily with those caramel ones as her honeyed timbre loses that slight plummy aspect for a small moment, "power and envy. You can feel that people want what you have and it is powerful." It is the raw truth and a sly grin returns on Cynarith’s lips, "and I will deny I ever said that."

Verah smirked at the confidence from the forsaken elf. When Cynarith talks of lowering the price, the blonde stays strong with her price. “Because I girl has gotta live to buy pretty things as well,” only one who liked to buy things would know. There is no glance towards the coin purse. No desperation. Just the truth. The exchange is made, and the coins are slipped beneath her duster where a deep pocket is stitched on the inside. Once the necklace is put on, Verah smiles with genuine approval. “Beautiful.” The desert elf raises her brows in amusement. “Sounds entertaining, enough. I’m sure there’s lots of stories you can tell about that.” And Verah loved stories. Hanging stories above people’s heads whether true or not. Blackmail. All-the-like. As the dragon is asking for Verah’s identity. It’s not completely a lie of who she is. “Vee,” she finishes Cyn’s questioning. Not a complete lie. It was a nickname. Perhaps it would take some time to give her name in full. A trust factor, which it was hard to let down her walls for anyone. “Pleasure, indeed.” The card is exchanged from her new acquaintance and the list of businesses go on and on. “You have quite the connections. I wouldn’t take you for construction, but who am I to judge a lady?” The next words that come out of Cynarith’s mouth make those caramel eyes meet turquoise. There might have been a moment of flush in Verah’s facial features, but she remains knowing. Cool, collected, sly. “Who am I to tell one’s secrets?” Verah would, but she knew how to play a social game, and it was like the opposite woman was reading her like a book. Both of them were reading each other. A familiar game. It was… intriguing. A knowing smile reaches her painted lips. “Daring statement." Verah leans back lazily on her palms as she sits on that pillow, her eyes trail over the wealthy one. "I like you, Lady Cynarith. Shall we meet again, well, maybe I’ll give you that extra discount next time.” She gives a playful, crafty snicker before standing up.

Cynarith adores the retort about buying pretty things, this lady is alright! “Oh if only I had the time,” she replies dreamily in reply to all of the stories she could tell about the drama and scandal high society likes to tangle themselves up in. “Vee,” the disguised dragon purrs the name with approval. “Right,” for a moment she got so wrapped up in talk of the social entanglements of Elimdor that she forgot she was in Cenril of all places procuring more construction projects. “Nildran construction is actually owned by Xiem, who has been a mentor of mine for years,” she lies all to easily because that is actually her father, but he knows about this lie and the image the cunning Cynarith has cultivated for herself. “He has to go off soul searching or something,” which is another lie and she knows exactly what he’s doing. Saving her brother from going full evil. With a wave of her hand in the air, as if to brush off the entire ordeal, she concludes in a bored manner, “I’ve merely stepped in as a favor to him until he returns to Lithrydel.” Secretly she has been finding the extra workload fulfilling, but she still acts like it’s a chore for the socialite is afraid to admit such menial labor work might be something she could enjoy,

It seems the disguised dragon and this ‘Vee’ have a great deal in common on the inside where it truly matters. Keeping people at a distance and deciding what types of information certain people get. That conspiratorial smirk and twinkle return to Cynarith at the mention of being daring, “I am a daring lady, Vee.” She stands along with the merchant and shares a soft giggle, “the feeling is mutual, I do hope our paths cross once more. Please feel free to drop by Hazelbend Chateau if you ever find yourself in Elimdor,” she gives the woman a short curtsy before rejoining with her bodyguards so they may depart from the market.

Verah only parts her lips in an awe at the mention of her mentor Xiem. Never heard of him. “Well, hopefully he finds what he’s looking for.” That was normally what kind people said, right? She looks around at the open stall she had. Verah had never really been one to plant herself for long, which was why she traveled with her wares. As Cynarith begins to conclude their conversation, the elf nods. “Perhaps I’ll pay a visit. With a season so bustling, it’s tempting.” She then wiggles her fingers in departure before watching the disguised dragon disappear through the crowd of the market before going back to wait for the next scam of a customer.