(124-05-17) Of Trousers and Wood
Of Trousers and Wood
Summary: Camillo and Tybalt Shop at the Crafts Fair
Date: 5/17/17
Related: None

The square is packed as generally after the food judging there are free samples and there is nothing the people of old town like better than a bit of free food and drink. Tybalt is dressed in his good green tunic and even the good trousers are clean. He hesitates when they reach the edge of the milling crowd and eyes Camillo through a curtain of loose hair and beribboned tiny braids. There is a disappointed murmur coming from the direction of the art contest and people are asking neighbors if it's true about the feet.

Camillo is not one to turn down free food and drink, either, especially when Tybalt is by. He grazes Tybalt's arm with his hand. "What's the matter?" he asks softly, almost sotto voce.

Tybalt leans close to murmur, "I hadn't realized there would be quite this many people. Like in an arena crowd only chaos…. It's all right." He straightens and takes a deep breath, "Which way do you think the cider will be? It's hard to see what's where in all this noise and movement."

Camillo makes a faint grunt of understanding. "They won't bother us. I'll put a knife to anyone who does," he says. Then he nods, skirting around the crowd until it's necessary to approach it, nearer to where he expects the cider. "It was over here last time."

Tybalt follows, keeping close, "Just startled me is all. The city SEEMS small so I forget how many people are really here…. It's a shame Sal and Cory aren't here. I liked… the other day." Apparently there is disappointment about the feet. There is also much talk of omens, dolphins, lizard lions, and the Mother. The crowd is unsettled, not jubilant as in previous years.

"It was good," Camillo says. "But…I am sorry for the air the festival has this year. You should have seen it before. With dolphins and…people truly happy." He leads the way to the cider stand and orders them a couple of cups.

Tybalt gives one of his more public smiles an a shrug, "Lizard Lions are good eating and I'm making coin selling to the vendors. I'm happy enough." Tybalt takes his cider and studies Camillo, "So what is most fun to do?"

Camillo pauses to ponder the idea of 'fun.' "I always eat and drink," he says. "We can go and look at the craftspeople's stands. Sometimes musicians will pass…"

Tybalt nods, "Lets do that then. Maybe wood carvings and carpentry first." He touches his mug to Camillo's, "May this be the best of years, lizard lions or no."

Camillo inclines his head at this toast, seconding it in spirit. "I like to see the inlay boxes," he says, starting to move over toward where the woodworkers set up. "They are so precise."

Tybalt walks with him, close, but not quite touching, "Oh! I would like to see that too. I've no a hand for fine work, but I've seen Elder's do some very clever things in that line.

"It takes more figuring, I think, than I have ever done," Camillo says. "Or…such practice that it comes naturally, I could not say which." He stops when they come near a table of carved figures, including religious symbols as well as familiar animals, dolphins and lizard lions alike.

Tybalt wrinkles up his face trying to remember, "I think a great deal of measuring is involved. At least I remember it so, the Winter I was old enough to remember." He leans to study the animals, 'which do you thing I am most like?"

Camillo smiles a little at Tybalt's question. "Once I dreamed you were a great white lion," he says. "Though when I imagine you running through the snow, I think of a wolf. You would always be something warm-blooded and brave."

Tybalt thinks that over picking up the corresponding figurines to study. "Wolves are Stark things really, and we've no lions so far North, though I've seen men fight them… elsewhere. I'd suggest Shadow cat, but that's what Carolis calls himself." He picks one up to show Camillo, "I think you and I are both a little like them. They are intelligent and… apt to wait their time before pouncing, coming out of the dark and from up high to land on the back of their dinner. Not pack hunters like wolves, not prone to rush in head on like a Boar."

"They used to call me a cur," Camillo says, keeping his voice down as he looks over a figure of a cat, curious. "I don't know animals like shadow cats very well." Not that he knows lions or wolves well, either, except as they appear on heraldry.

Tybalt studies Camillo, "That is… not kind, and not accurate. It might have been… for either of us once, but I think… you haven't the look of it. Not since I've known you any way." He makes a decision and starts bartering for the smallest shadow cat. "Shadow cats are hard to kill. They know when they are being hunted. they know when to run and when to circle back to eat the hunters."

"I think it was true then," he says. "I was as lost, when masterless." He listens thoughtfully, watching Tybalt haggle. "I think the shadow cat does sound familiar to us."

The carver takes out a tiny drill and threads a thong through the hole. Tybalt pays the man and loops the thing around Camillo's neck. "A… remembrance of the day." It is not quite his private smile, but one akin to it, if less revealing. "To remind you you are not a cur and don't need a master." He is looking into Camillo's eyes, just a little to long, a little too vulnerable for public and then he looks away.

Camillo looks somehow surprised to have such a remembrance bestowed upon him. His jaw pops open slightly, but not particularly for the purpose of speech. He only blinks at Tybalt, then nods at last when he looks away. "Thank you," he says at last.

Tybalt eyes him worriedly through the hair, "Was that a mistake? I can wear it instead if you don't like it."

Camillo drops his gaze. "It is only that I…think it is very kind," he says. "Because…it is both a present and a very kind thought." He blinks at the ground, then sips his cider. "I…am not so accustomed to gifts. Lady Marsei gave me a carved icon of the Seven. But usually…" He frowns thoughtfully. "Perhaps I will tell you a story about a different necklace when we are home." 'Home' is never exactly what his slapdash garret room was meant to be, yet it has somehow become one, it seems.

Tybalt nods, "I will ask you there." He was the one who carved the 'home' rune over the door after all, the week he moved in. He drifts towards the inlay table, sipping his ale. Over by the pie area ther is some sort of minor commotion, but here the ebb and flow is normal.

Camillo cranes his neck a little to see what might be going on with the pie, but then his eyes are on the inlay work. "The ones with dye are very nice," he says. "Although somehow I think just to contrast one kind of wood with another is the cleverest. Especially when it is sanded and polished so that it is almost something else again."

A distant wild tittering can be heard above the crowd noise. from the crowd murmur there is something peculiar about one of the crust designs this year. Tybalt contemplates the boxes. "I like the ones with the leaf inlay and the green fabric inside. I don't know what I' put in one though and odds are if I touched a fabric that fine I'd ruin it…."

Camillo nods at that box. "It is very fine," he says. "But it is indeed difficult for people who use their hands to work to go touching fine fabrics. Still, there are ways of washing to be as clean as any noble and cleaner than many."

Tybalt shakes his head, "My hands are rough and would pill the fabric. That there is for some fine lady most like."

"Most like," Camillo agrees softly. "But I like your hands." He moves on toward the next table, which has wooden and lacquered bowls and utensils, as well as carved hair pins.

Tybalt nods and trails along, "These are pretty but… easier for a person to use. Less delicate."

"Yes," Camillo agrees. "Do you see anything we need? I've always only kept very few things."

Tybalt says, "Bowls, maybe? For stew when it is cold.""

Camillo inclines his head at that reply, and picks out two bowls, which are a /little/ nicer in quality than the wooden plates he keeps. He pays and tucks them into the bag he is usually carrying. "What else did you want to see?"

Tybalt looks around, "I'm not sure… what else is good?"

"Well, there is art," Camillo says, "Though it will mostly be dedicated to the Mother. There are ceramics, they can be good to look at, though I don't buy what breaks so easily for myself. There are leather goods and tailors…do you need anything new to wear?"

Tybalt thinks it over, "I could use some new leggings, maybe. I have the ones for dirty work and this pair for other things. Maybe some leather for guarding or… something nicer for days like today. Leather's expensive though and a third set of leggings is a frill…."

Camillo feels his purse thoughtfully. "I think we can do it. I believe I will need to do that job of work I mentioned to you, and then I expect I can ask for a little money. We may find something both durable and nice, it will serve you for years." He leads toward the tailors.

Tybalt trails a little, "Are you sure? It is expensive…. I will help you with the job if you like?"

"It may be that I will need your help," Camillo admits, nodding once. "I will not know until it is closer to the time. But yes, I think it is a worthy investment. My expenses are so low."

Tybalt takes that in, and straightening his shoulders, decides, "All right, but… do not wander off."

Camillo tilts his head a little. "What do you mean?" he asks. He gestures to the various stalls of tailors and leather workers. "Which do you like?"

Tybalt looks away, "I'm not so good at strangers touching me as I used to be." He peers at the plethora of choices looking honestly lost, "I… what do you think is best? I like green and brown mostly."

Camillo takes a long moment to look from choice to choice, standing close to Tybalt. Then he indicates a pair in a not-too-ostentatious green, the leather looking a nice balance between supple and protective. "What do you think of these?"

Tybalt shifts just close enough for their arms to touch, "Can they be… a little darker maybe. For night work?"

"Yes," Camillo says. "I'm certain we can find that." He finds a similar pair in a darker, hunter green. "What do you think of these? Is there too much blue in the green?"

Tybalt looks them over, "I think it will be fine." He searches camillo's face, "Are you sure? Leathers are really expensive."

Camillo looks at Tybalt's face, smiling softly once he takes in that expression. "Very," he says. "Very sure. I want you to feel as fine as…well, as you deserve."

Tybalt slowly smiles, wide and clearly delighted. "I really do like them, Cam. Do you think they will fit?"

"Yes," Camillo says. "But let us ask the craftsman." He flags the man to inquire whether the fitting seems correct, though he will interrupt any attempts for the stranger to measure Tybalt, offering to do the measuring himself if necessary.

Tybalt relaxes once it is clear Camillo will do the measuring and stands in the right positions. It turns out only small alterations are necessary and they might have them in an hour or so. "Are you hungry, Cam?"

Camillo thanks the leather worker and returns his tape, then looks to Tybalt and nods once. "Yes," he says. "What do you want to eat?"

Tybalt thinks it over, "Something spicy that we couldn't make ourselves."

Camillo grunts thoughtfully, then starts leading the way over toward the food stands. "I like spicy foods," he says. "There is someone who cooks spicy chopped fowl in a sort of stew with vegetables."

Tybalt gives him a pleased look, That does sound fine. I do like a good bird, and I don't think I've had it in a spicy stew.

Camillo knows how the stands are usually arranged, so he isn't far off when leading the way to the stand he is thinking of, and luckily they do have what he is thinking of, which they can stand and eat out of borrowed bowls. "I… Even if the omens are not good this year, this is…a good day, I think," Camillo says. "I am happy."

Tybalt nods emphatically, "It is a good day, Cam. I am happy too."

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