[center][h1][color=00ff66]Ilyana the Half-Human[/color][/h1][/center]
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As the water wagon attendant jotted down in his log of the four gallons of water issued to Illyana, there came a heavy sigh from underneath the wagon, and a small figure crawled out from underneath - Thistrideth Dragongrog, the beardless night baker. Many a dwarf gave the redhead a double-take when they saw her naked chin, the blood-red lipstick or the blush on her bare cheeks. While many a dwarf made noise of disgust, sometimes one of them would hang back, and ask her in a trembling voice where they could get that makeup, too? 

Athulwin most likely had caught wind of her makeup parties with the interested female dwarves, but he wasn't invited. And makeup was a lot more comfortable than that itchy false-beard that her mother made Thistrideth wear.

However, she wasn't wearing her signature makeup at the moment. She looked annoyed, unhappy about crawling out from under the best cool spot in the desert. Her studded sleeping mask had been shoved up like some weird headband.

"Hey," Thistrideth called out to the wagon attendant, shaking her head to clear it, then staring at the receding back of Illyana as she made her way towards her cart, "Was that Hyrilea with that boy?"
"Uh, yeah."

"Not again," Thistrideth grumbles, then sighs as she pulls herself upright. "Don't let anyone take my spot."

As she entered the commissary tent, Thistrideth could see the centaur with the other servers, helping to lay out carpets on the sands.

"Hyrilea!" the lowland dwarf bellowed angrily, making every head in the tent jerk in her direction. The centaur frowned, but cantered over.
"Thist,..."
"What the hell were you doing with that boy?"
"Boy? Oh, nothing. He didn't know where the water wagons were...."
"And so you offered to show him," the baker said scornfully. "And you then offered to show them around town, too. What's the matter? Kostantinos' eyes wandering around those new fillies?"
"I... I don't know what...!"
"Save it, honey. The last thing we need is a jealous guard attacking a half-grown half-elf. Do you want to see him in a slave collar here because he killed that boy? Maybe you as well? Do you know where you might wind up if you get collared?
"He's not a boy, he's a sailor off of a navy ship! He's got all those battle scars...!"
"He's not even forty!" Thistrideth retorted. "Hell, I don't know his have dropped, yet."

Blushes burned on a few cheeks behind Hyrilea. 

"Boy's got no family name, he's been disowned," the baker went on. "What was Athulwin gonna do? Leave the lad behind, like his crew did? The kid's got a good head on his shoulders, I don't need you messin' with it because you're angry at Kostantinos and tryin' ta make him jealous!"

The centaur ducks her head, her right hand wraps around her left elbow.

"I... I'm sorry, Thist...."
"Yer sorry," the dwarf says scornfully. "They tell me dat lump on your shoulders is a head, you best start usin' it. If yer angry at Kostantinos, take it out on him. Kick him in da shins, give him a nip - he's a big boy, he can take it. Don't go draggin' others into your mess, and I won't have to find someone else to pull the spice wagon."

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[center][h1][color=ed1c24]Granny Siri[/color][/h1][/center]

"Hey, you!" Siri called out, spying Illyana. "I need some help with this tent, think when you're done with yer water, you could come back here? There's coin in it for you!"

"Coin?" the half-human said, blinking at the Wanderer cleric. "Sure, I'll be right over."

Siri frowned as Illyana trudged away. 

"Did he look okay to you?" she asked Pilot. 
The construct shrugs, turning back to tugging at the canvas, trying to spread it out.