Market-Month (first stop)

For the second time in as many months (or is it weeks?), I hear the name Arduinna mentioned. An eyebrow arches curiously, cautiously, as I survey his unexpectedly theatrical display. Though perhaps his beguiling behaviour is on one hand, attractive to my much more reserved personality, alluring even, on the other, it also fuels the natural wariness borne through my kind; like kindling to the fire. Famous merchant?... I wonder silently, green eyes searching for any crack in his confidence that might reveal his true intent; or Arduinna’s. Ianto is by all accounts the polar opposite of Jigano and I suddenly find myself wishing for the silver-maned scholars' calming presence. Drawing some inspiration from my time with him in the woods my answer slithers free of these stiff lips, “a weaver for my kin.” My breath grows shallow, my chest tight beneath the fur vest strapped upon it. The free fingers slide upwards, drawing my heavy cloak further forward from my shoulders. “What is the wishing wagon?” I ask him quietly, a mere shadow of the talker I had been in company of the previous, wondering if I’d maybe overlooked the not-Fae’s stall on the docks in the village. Surely I would've noticed any external product on display.