Event | Yard Sale!

[ironwood]

Characters: Come one, come all!
Date: July 21st - July 27th
Location: The City of Keeliai
Situation: The rationing is officially lifted and the kedan are celebrating by conducting one citywide yard sale! Think big! Think small! Think tribbles! Think all!
Warnings/Rating: Tribbles. Lots of tribbles. Please indicate content warnings in subject headers as applicable.

The morning of the 21st kicks off with heralds roving about the city of Keeliai to declare that the rationing edict has been lifted and that citizens no longer have to contribute one-fifth of their productions (juulan or physical goods) to the communal stores maintained by the police force. These announcements trigger a state of celebration across the city as kedan drag months worth of hoarded items to the street to sell, steal, or trade in a wave of mercantile goodness that stretches for nearly a week. Not even the rising tide of tribbles seems to dampen their spirit, with kedan citywide finding new and inventive uses for the fuzzy paperweights.

Characters are free to do as they will during this event, with police oversight relaxed in the aftermath of the long rationing and strained relations. Impromptu sales out of suites will rarely be inspected and purchase made elsewhere are no longer monitored. Everyone is taking a breath of fresh air, so to speak, and most do not want their first fun in months to be ruined.

OOC: See the OOC announcement for details and this post for subheaders in which you may wreak havoc celebrate the lifting of the rationing. Feel free to start your own thread header if you like! <3

Fire Sector | Earth Sector | Metal Sector | Water Sector | Wood Sector | Other

Comments

Temeraire | OPEN

[dracobin]

[The rich fabrics and gleaming jewellery of his home sector glitter in the sunlight, and Temeraire is drawn to them, as ever, like a moth to flame. It is easier to push the darker thoughts from his mind out in the day, surrounded by beautiful and expensive things, even if he knows perfectly well he cannot afford most of it.

At present he is perusing a table laden with chocolates, a skewer containing nearly a dozen spiced and roasted tribbles clutched in his claws.]

[cowled]

[He's known about the existence of dragons here for a while, but despite distant observation, has never spoken with one of them directly. And this one, he thinks (although he can't be sure) is the one who encountered Malicant directly.

That more than anything - Bruce has met dragons before, after all - is what leads him to 'trip' rather inelegantly over Temeraire's tail as he backs away from a stall.]

Oh, God, I'm sorry, that was terribly clums--

[He's speaking as he turns, and he blinks in feigned surprise when he sees the dragon.]

-- clumsy... of me.

[He finishes the statement, faintly incredulous, tone hushed with awe.]

[dracobin]

[Temeraire turns instinctively, coming dangerously close to knocking over an artistically arranged pile of chocolate boxes, much to the annoyance of the saleskedan.]

It is no trouble, [he begins, any initial annoyance at the interruption mollified by the speedy apology. Then he pauses, and blinks: he has seen Bruce Wayne's face on the network, of course, but he has never met the man in person, and from what he has heard the man is certainly very important in foreigner circles.]

No trouble at all, [he repeats, eyeing Bruce a little warily. He does not look terribly important to Temeraire, but then of course Temeraire's idea of importance is directly proportional to how much jewelry and gold braid one is sporting on one's person.] Mr Wayne, is it not?

[cowled]

[He brightens at the immediate lack of snapping and snarling and general 'attempting to eat' one must always be wary of around dragons (or so he's heard, at least) and holds out a hand. Because obviously dragons shake hands, do they not?]

Call me Bruce. Sorry, I'm not certain what I should address you as at all.

[dracobin]

[Temeraire, for his part, has never been asked to shake hands with anyone before, but the fact that Bruce is even offering is a point in his favor. How very polite!

He carefully extends a claw, placing it in Bruce's hand and gingerly wiggling it up and down.] Simply Temeraire will do. It is very nice to meet you in person, at last; I was of the impression you are something of a household name here.

[cowled]

Temeraire.

[He beams at the 'clawshake', and releases him briefly, reaching out to snag a set of drinks off a passing tray.]

A household name? You flatter me. I'm merely doing my part. I don't suppose you favour champagne?

[He holds one of the glasses aloft. It's non-alcoholic, because Bruce is vehemently against alcohol, but hey.]

[dracobin]

Why--of course.

[Which is to say he has never had it, and has only heard of it in passing (what is it it sounds French), but it would never do to come off as backward, or ignorant.

Maneuvering the glass out of Bruce's hand is even trickier than shaking it, but he manages, after a fashion, and pokes a forked tongue out to lap the champagne up with a cautiously optimistic air.]

Oh, it has bubbles! [And promptly looks a little embarrassed after that excited outburst. Good job, Temeraire, you were almost classy for about five seconds.]

[cowled]

[It's characteristic of 'Bruce Wayne' to laugh at such a thing, but he can't quite bring himself to do it. After everything he's seen, everything he's done, certain creatures still hold a sense of magic for him. Dragons, oddly, are one of them. And he's been chewed on by his fair share of them.]

Would you prefer a sort without bubbles? I'm sure I can track something down.

[dracobin]

What? Oh, no--I like it very well; it is very interesting.

[The jig is up, anyway, so he might as well confess:] It is difficult to find, in Dover, and we are on the move so often that even if we might track it down, we should probably be away before it even arrived.

[cowled]

My geography's a little on the fuzzy side, but isn't Dover in Kent?

[It's like Earth, but with dragons!]

[dracobin]

Yes, that is right: you have heard of its very lovely cliffs, perhaps, and the battle which was fought there, when Napoleon tried to invade England?

[Not in anyone else's timeline, Temeraire.]

[cowled]

[That gets Bruce to give the dragon a rather quizzical look.]

I'm afraid I'm... not familiar with that particular historical event.

[It's a polite way of saying 'um, wat.' Then again, Temeraire is apparently from a world full of dragons. So maybe it's a dragon thing. It'd hardly be the first time Bruce has encountered a world slightly different than his own with only small circumstances altered. There's a universe out there where Barack Obama is Superman, okay.]

[dracobin]

[A puzzled stare, the effect of which is slightly lost as he snakes his tongue out again to lap at the champagne.]

It rather sounds as if no-one else here is, either. I suppose you are fortunate in that; the battle was a long one, and it was only with great difficulty that we turned him back.

[cowled]

Dragons fighting Napoleon. Excuse me, but it must be quite the world you're from. I mean, Metropolis has Superman and Star City the Flash, but I don't think any of the superheroes from the world I'm from have ever met a dragon.

[Bruce smiles broadly at Temeraire, and his glance turns speculatively inquisitive.]

So forgive my asking-- but can you fly? Carry passengers? You must have been involved in the battle itself to talk about it as you have.

[dracobin]

Is it truly so strange? We have no superheroes in my world, for one: it should be very interesting to live in a world where people might fly, or control the weather.

[He brightens a little at the question; he is always happy to talk about his own world.] Yes, of course; I am in the Royal Aerial Corps, and I have a full crew of near on thirty. Of course I can carry a great many more people than that, but there are other considerations, when one is fighting--ammunition, and cargo, and that sort of thing.

[cowled]

Well, we have dragons in stories, of course, but the reality of the thing is-- hmm. You don't have a propensity for hoarding incredible amounts of gold, do you?

[Excuse you, Temeraire, you're getting a bit of a skeptical look as Bruce equates 'thirty' with... well, the size of him. This is rather like the look someone would give to a minivan somehow holding an entire peewee basketball team.]

Are they... very small people?

[dracobin]

If I knew where to find an incredible amount of gold, I should certainly like to hoard it; I have heard it is very comfortable to sleep on.

[He draws himself up under the scrutiny--not precisely indignant, but a little nettled, all the same, that someone might doubt him.] They are not; whatever magic brought me here shrank me, as well. I am not even half the size I was before I arrived.

[badge_177]

[Vimes had been on a quest for cigars. He was, in fact, still on a quest for cigars, but rather distracted by the fact that there is a dragon in front of him. Presumably one of these dragons that talk.

The staring is probably rude, isn't it?]

[dracobin]

[Temeraire is used to making his way through a crowded street by now, and he has been here long enough that the kedan in Fire Sector pay him no mind: an obstructive nuisance at worst and a generally friendly and obliging neighbor at best. So it is he forgets himself, momentarily, when he sees the man staring, and assumes Vimes's gaze is drawn to the delicacy onna stick he is currently enjoying.

He does the polite thing, of course, and proffers the three-foot-long skewer in Vimes's general direction.]

I am sorry, would you like a tribble? They do not have much meat on them, it must be said, but they are quite tasty, all the same.

[monstrous]

[...dude, a dragon.

Finally an awesome use of vampire stalking abilities. He is just going to be stalking a dragon, no big thing.

Excuse him if he's awed by the sight of a dragon. Dragon's are cool and Toby, no matter how much vampire swagger he might have, is not. So he will just be a giant nerd right now, trying to figure out how to approach a dragon.]

[dracobin]

[Temeraire is totally oblivious to any apparent stalkage. The streets are crowded, after all, and he is far too busy enjoying the chocolate sample he has just been offered. Delicious.]

I will take three boxes of the stuff--you may deliver it to FI-3B, at your earliest convenience.

[And then he is off again, making his way through the crowds, stopping occasionally to nibble at his giant skewer of tribbles or ooh over a particularly colorful piece of pottery or bolt of cloth.]

[monstrous]

[chocolate eating, tribble skewering dragon. Does the world get any better?]

[the next time Temeraire stops at a vendor (if he does stop again and looks ready to pay for something), Toby is going to attempt to be smooth and swoop in, smiling at the vendor before Temeraire can pay]

I've got this one. Sorry, I wasn't quite sure how to break the ice, I figured this could be the marketplace equivalent of "can I buy you a drink?" Hopefully not too forward? [Toby doesn't even care how lame he might seem right now, he's talking to a dragon. Best day.]

[dracobin]

[Temeraire rumbles a little in surprise, glancing uncertainly from the vendor (who is holding an almost eye-searingly colorful tapestry) to the unfamiliar person who has suddenly intervened.

Well, he decides after a moment, there are certainly worse ways to go about making friends, when one is speaking to a dragon, and in any case the man has not been at all impolite, so it is not as if he is trying to make up for a hypothetical fault in character.]

Why, thank you; that is uncommon kind of you, although one might very well have said 'hallo,' or something similar: that is how it is done in England, you see.

[monstrous]

Oh, it might've changed a bit since you were in England. I can't say I've seen many dragons around there in my lifetime.

[dracobin]

[A faintly disgruntled rumble, though it is not precisely directed at Toby. The shopkeeper, to his credit, doesn't even blink, indicating with an impatient hand that either party should fork over the juulan and move: the dragon is blocking traffic to his stall.]

It is very disheartening to hear of all these Englands, which have not even got a single dragon. What on earth have you all got, then, in place of an Aerial Corps?