R y l a n
oh-ooh-oh, you think you're special
oh-ooh-oh, you think you're something else,
ok, so you're a rocket scientist,
that don't impress me much
The heat was a subtle drum against his flesh, heating his golden pelt with the familiarity of home. Sure, it was dryer than the desert at midday around these parts. Still, Rylan was undoubtedly enjoying the heat, even with the occasional crisp breeze of fall promising winter was just around the corner. His ears were perked forward, his smile charming and easy. Others would occasionally stop by his shop to look at the gleaming jewelry he had placed up to build his name up. Priceless small trinkets crafted so tenderly. Engraved and beaded necklaces on leather straps, delicate feathers intertwined with deerskin lace and strings. Small gems, carefully carved beads, and light porcupine quills embroidered into chest plates or attached to tinsels for the mane of anyone who fancied such delicate crafts.
From what Rylan had seen so far around these parts, there weren't many who played with his craft. Sure, there were plenty of leather workers making scabbards, or bags, or armor. Some could craft weapons, others who seemed to deal only with metal and gemstones, making trinkets that felt as cold and lifeless to the native raised stallion as the hard rock of some of these homes. It was nothing like the feather and hide, the leather that wasn't distorted into something else, but instead tanned and kept natural, kept wild as he, himself, could be. The stallion himself wasn't shy about wearing his own, from the turquoise and bone necklace around his neck to the thick and heavy arrowhead hanging from the dual strands. To the deer hide band wrapped around his foreleg, turquoise beads carefully carved and threaded through the laces, and feathers hanging against his muscular upper limb, feathers that matched the much longer, singular feather braided into his mane.
He looked the part of an outside, a traveler not yet known to these parts, but that was the purpose of being here today, of stepping outside of the official workshop he'd rented for himself. It was already half-buried in rawhides that still need to be scraped and cleaned, in small rock and stones - some brought with him from home, others collected around here that needed to be polished and carved out. Necklaces that needed to be strung, hair tassels needed to be feathered. It was easier currently selling his items from this small booth than trying to let anyone into his mess of a studio. At least until he could organize it and really make it a workable space. At least the corner he'd set aside for his personal living had been fixed up proper, tidy, homey, perfect, and the entire reason his own shop was still a mess. He knew his priorities.
He was playful, friendly as others stopped by, chatting, asking him about his items, a few were surprised when he allowed them to try them out, teaching them how to tie the tassels into their mane. He laughed as items were fallen in love with, coins exchanging hooves so they wouldn't have to remove the braids, the bindings once in place. His easy grin kept others around, talking to the friendly gentleman. He was just as curious about Novus as the citizens were of him. He was met with just as many grins as his friendly little wolf-dog pup was, as the small, energetic pup wove around hooves, batted at tails, and was nuzzled into happy-puppy-oblivion. It was in those moments, as teal eyes settled on the little pup and softened with fond affection, that others would see the Rylan hiding behind the seller's front. Soft, gentle, caring, and considerate.
A click of his tongue against the roof of his mouth, a command without words, and Tyee was perking up from where he was being smothered by a young foal. Instantly the pup's tongue lolled out, and he came raising forward, scrambling with his paws to stop before he'd run into the stallion's legs and succeeding only to the point that he used Rylan's limbs to control himself, rather than colliding with them at full tilt. The stallion snorted and scraped a hoof against the ground. The pup merely stared, head tilting at the side before licking at the ankle in question. Rylan repeated the gesture to the same response and finally had to sigh and give the verbal command, "Tyee, Lay down." He repeated the gesture at the same time, and the pup happily bounded to his own pile of furs beneath the stall and happily closed his eyes, even as he panted.
With the pup back under control, Rylan grinned sheepishly at the snickering parents of the foal, "Pup was darn near tuckered out. He ain't too old yet, 'n' I gotta make shure he ain't o'er extendin' 'imself." The stallion apologized, the smooth drawl falling from his lips, sweet as molasses. He glanced away, seeing another approach, and he paused, blinking a few times as a galactic rapture seemed to descend from the crowds. All dark shadows and glowy, gold vibrancy. For a moment Rylan had to remind himself to breathe, but for the love of The Great Spirit, what did they feed the men around these parts? These divine being was stopping at his stall no less!
Rylan forced himself to stand tall, steady, even as he briefly glanced at his items for sale, making sure they were tidy, well displayed. However, the words that came from this holy beast had the turquoise eyes of the sun-kissed stallion jolting back up, forcing his easy grin back into place. No need to make a fool of himself over a silly transaction, right? "Ain't been 'round these parts long 'nough ta sell much o' the local collected. Most, iffin not all, come from meh homelands." He answered, pleased as punch that he didn't stutter once. But there was still something to this man's glaze that Rylan felt his mouth growing dry. What was with these stallions?!
He shook his head slightly, disguising the action as a means to toss his forelock out of his gaze and feeling the comfortable soft wap of the feather against his neck, the gift of his mother, and a stabilizer for when he was starting to feel in too deep. It rounded him enough to shift into a more comfortable stance, using his muzzle to direct attention back to the wares, his smile friendly, playful, "Feel free ta browse. Try an'thin' on ya might like. Just ask ya put it back if yer not gonna buy it. I hate chasin' after thieves." He joked, good naturally, "Name's Rylan, by the way; maker of all the items ya see before ya." He added proudly. Sure, he could do the normal stuff - Leather Armor, Bags and satchels and the likes, but this was where his love was, jewelry and accessories, and helping someone find the confidence to pull off any look, no matter what it was.
"Speech"
Thoughts
Keokuk
@Alecto
Notes: <3 <3
i think you're alright
but that won't keep me warm
in the middle of the night
