[now Though He Can Get Something Besides Coin] - Tumblr Posts
13th-dragon-prince - [Prior]
This was not Ul’dah, the merchants they would speak too would be those of Revenant’s Toll, already well knowing of the scaled fool’s penchant for lacking cloth or interest in the chill. They would know him for blades of teeth and friendly laughter with hatchlings. He was no ‘sunblinked mind’ of a ‘foreign Au Ra’ like when they had first arrived in The Source. Again the hand was waved, claws tapping against the metal of wolfish decorations, and the lizard made for that plumed mount as ever before, apparently no qualms to the idea of heading to market despite his vocal distaste.
︻デ═一・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Bryn was still chewing the jerky when that blue tongue stuck out teasingly, and he snorted in response to it, finishing off the food as he glanced towards Featherflame, at least until there was a disgruntled noise, and Whillow spoke.
The way he clipped "market", the roll of his eyes, it was clear he didn't approve of it, or liked it. Bryn had half a mind to ask why, but it was answered before he could, his lips twitching slightly at the mention of smells, sounds, and lies. Maybe he thought bartering was lying? Or truly believed the vendors were hiding something. Dull teeth... Wonder if I'm in that group.
He placed a hand on Featherflame, watching the little gecko cross his arms, slap that tail, and assume a disgruntled air. As if in memory. Which made Bryn's mind wander too.
He remembered the first time he had held a coin purse, felt the weight of gil in his hand and...nearly salivated over it. Growing up poor, with barely enough to survive when he was too weak to provide for himself, had left him with an odd sense of money. For a long time, he spent every gil he had, the salary he made with the Maelstrom flying out of his fist as soon as it hit it. And it took years, years of learning, of finally coming to grips with having gil - and a healthy dose of lectures from an Elezen friend - before he actually kept a surplus. Tucked away, hidden, in case of emergency.
The chuff of air, the narrowing of silver eyes, it made Bryn refocus, come out of the trance of memory just in time for the wave of clawed hands, and the press of one to his belly. His eyes flicked down, to the touch, wondering what it was for, or, wondering if it was to check his fullness. Could the little dragon know that just from a touch?
Although, the declaration of not needing gil did raise the question of who, or how, Whillow got food, or cloth - Oh, right. He didn't wear clothes. And with his natural hunting ability, perhaps he didn't actually need the market.
The other half though... He frowned, deeply, his eyes flickering a deeper silver, an angry silver, as he growled under his breath, shaking his head. "Anyone gives you a look like you are property, let me know. I will be happy to remind them that you are off limits."
It was with that thought in his mind that he swung himself onto Featherflame, lost in thought as he situated himself, waited for Whillow to mount as well, and then head off.
And of course, Whillow made sure the ride back was...as interesting as the one out. With a slightly flushed face, Bryn was petting Featherflame, already off her and draping her reigns over the hitching post, a few tied chocobo giving the red one envious looks as she preened like she was better than everyone else, and once he was certain she was situated, he was moving, heading towards the market and trusting the absolute tease of a dragon would follow.
The first of three stops was simple: selling the dragon teeth. The teeth themselves were not what drew a bounty, but the proof that the dragon's they once belonged to were dead. Handing them over to a specialty merchant who, after a brief description of where he could find the carcasses to collect any materials he might need, handed back two bags of gil (one decidedly larger than the other), and Bryn turned back with both, ready to split and give half to Whillow, only to be reminded by the gecko's acute lack of interest in what he was doing that he did not care for the coin of Eorzea.
Looking between the sizeable amount they had both just earned, he pocketed them, and then fixed Whillow with a stare, rumbling out as he moved towards the next stall he would call on. "Tell me, if you do not want coin, then what would you prefer instead? You helped bring down one of the dragons, and that means you deserve a payment beyond just your meal. So, by the time we leave the market, tell me what you would like, and I will give it to you." Nodding, he moved on, content to let the little lizard think on what he wanted his prize to be.
It was, in all aspects, a short trip to the market, Bryn swinging by two well known stalls to pick up a set of darker clothes, a coat similar to the one he wore, but in a deeper, darker black, forgoing a new shirt since the navy blue was perfect for the dark of night. However, if he was to truly hide...
For a few minutes, he was haggling, going back and forth with the stall owner over a thick, wide, well cut pelt of ink black fur. It was easily three times the size of the Hyur, clearly meant for a large bed, and the price for it was not cheap. But it was worth it, he figured, for the temporary use, and for cold nights on the road.
He finally got the vendor to agree to a more reasonable price, and he collected the large pelt, rolled nicely, after handing over the necessary coin, humming softly as he turned back to find out where, and what, the little dragon was doing in the place he clearly did not enjoy.