==== January 20, 2014
==== Aaron, Krissi, Sori, T'ral, Zannen
==== Zannen shows up with a commission in mind while T'ral shows up with things on his mind.

Who Aaron, Krissi, Sori, T'ral, Zannen
What Zannen shows up with a commission in mind while T'ral shows up with things on his mind.
When It is the sixtieth day of Spring and 94 degrees.
Where Southern Weyr

Aaron Krissi.JPG Sori-Icon.jpg t-ral.jpg Zannen3.jpg


smith_wing.jpg

Smith Wing
Clearly a place where Things Happen, the Weyr's Smithy is a busy place. Long lines of wooden workbenches and tool racks greet visitors. The tops of the benches bare heavy scars of cutting and burning in some places, and remain pristine in others. One side of the area is given over to a cluster of forges, anvils, bellows, and quenching tubs. Two noticeably smaller forges are tucked off by themselves, obviously intended for finer work or even jewelry. On the opposite side of the hall, as far away from the heat and flames of the forges as possible, is an area for the woodcrafting contingent of the Weyr's Smiths. Carefully stacked cords of wood line one wall, drying before use. In the very back of the Smithy, as far as it could be from everything else, is the massive structure of a smelting furnace, fed by a set of four massive bellows that are set up to be pumped by two people each. Stairs on either side of the structure give access to the top of it, and a primitive crane assembly looms over all of that, ready to lift massive crucibles of molten metal from the furnace. Various doors, all with good locks, lead off of the open space, either to store rooms or offices for the more senior Smiths.


This time of day the Smiths are a hopping. The forge is doing a good job of making the already oppressive heat worse while apprentices scurry about it doing a myriad of chores. The smell of heated metal is combined with the scent of fresh cut wood. Krissi and her apprentice are busily working away in the slightly cooler woodshop.

"'Scuse me! Hooo, jays, s'like the bloody desert all o'er again…" Thus enters someone decided not used to the heat and noise and metal of this particular craft, his own keeping him out and about on the water most all the time. Zannen sidles inside, plucking at his shirt for emphasis to his words, and casting his gaze about for fancier knots. "'Scuse me, sir, 's the woodshop somewhere in here? Got pointed this way." Likely with some annoyance, the tall, blue-eyed Seacrafter gets directed toward the woodshop, where he pauses at the threshold to appreciate the slight dip in temperature with a bit of puffing. Then he notices those working within. "'Scuse me, ma'am? Looks like the right place fer wood an' such. Ye in charge o' the woodcrafting?"

Krissi looks up from her work and spies the speaker in the doorway. “That would be me I suppose,” she agrees and sets down her tools. Plucking a cloth from beneath the table she cleans the sawdust off her hands and then gestures Zannen to enter. “Devarl won’t you go fetch a pitcher of water from the complex tables please?” While the apprentice scurries off, Kris once again turns her attention to Zan, “What can I do for ya?”

T'ral ducks into the woodworking shop, keeping at the edge of the bustle, dark eyes peering curiously about, cataloguing the details. He spots Krissi and a young man speaking and purses his lips as if trying to decide on a course of action. He gives a nod to himself and ambles over, staying at a polite remove while watching the nearby work intently, hands folded behind his back as if to say 'I know not to touch anything here.'

Zannen shuffles further into the shop, upon which the reason for has so-far-uneven gait becomes more evident - a rough canvas bag being lugged by one wiry arm. He sets it down near his feet when he stops, working out his hand a little and surveying the woman in front of him a little less distractedly now. He gives her a lopsided smile and inclines his head. "Senior Apprentice Zannen, Seacraft, ma'am. Arrived here not too long ago. I, uh, was wonderin' if ye happen t' do more dec'rative projects. Boxes an such. Got a gift I was hopin t' commission, an' some marks saved up t' do it. Plus," he nudges the bag with a sandaled foot, "some o' the material, if ye think it's workable." Happening to glance over, he spots the man watching - wearing a rider's knot - and offers nod to him as well. "Bluerider, sir."

Krissi isn’t at all sure what to think of T’ral’s appearance in her shop. She’d seen him enter but hasn’t said anything as of this second. Focusing on Zannen with a smile. “Well met Zannen. I do in fact have a knack for decorative pieces.” She holds up a finger and slips to the back of the shop to open a cabinet there. Producing a beautifully carved dartboard case she returns to the loitering rider and potential patron and grins. “To give you an idea of my work.” (l #6570) Setting the cabinet on the long work table she glances down at the bag Zannen brought. “I can see if it’s usable for what you’re after,” she agrees. Finally she turns a small, because I’m at work, smile on the bluerider, “Hello T’ral.”

'Bluerider, sir.' T'ral looks around surreptitiously to see what 'bluerider, sir' there is around -possibly someone he needs to salute- and blinks. Oh. Arms still tucked behind his back, he inclines his head in a bow, "Well met, Seacrafter." T'ral's mouth twitches flat, mentally wincing, he'd detected the blandly professional tenor to the expressive woman's greeting. This wasn't going to be fun. But it was important to do. So he waits. However long she cares to keep him cooling his heels. The workings of the Smithy were interesting to watch, and so he does.

Aaron comes striding out of his office, a scrap of hide in his hand. Taking a moment to look around, he heads over towards a group of older apprentices working at one of the big benches, and then… Stops. Turns. And walks towards the Woodcraft area, long legs eating up the distance quickly. A heavy hand lands on T'ral's shoulder, and it stays there. "Bluerider. I wasn't expecting you here so soon."

His smile widening when the woodcrafter reveals that he's come to the right person, Zannen takes the bag up again and holds it up for her. "'S driftwood," he explains, "but I did m' best to make sure it's nice 'n' sound. I was hopin' fer a box made from that specific'ly; it'd mean somethin' t' who it's goin' to. But if ye say it isn' good, jus' tell me what is." And then his gaze falls on that cabinet, and his eyes go round. "Oh, blin' me," he breathes, looking it over and reverently opening it up. "Ye weren' kiddin', journeyman. 'S beautiful." He's still looking when the woodcrafter addresses the dragonrider, but when she says the man's name, he blinks. Something's familiar about it, but he can't place why just yet, still examining the dart cabinet as he rolls the name over in his head.

While Krissi still appreciates T’ral as a person, she’s not entirely thrilled with him no. And she’ll hop in the forge head first before she addresses him as ‘sir’. Aaron didn’t even get ‘sir’ for more than a seven-day after her arrival here. And he’s her boss. She does give him the benefit of nodding her head appreciatively when he greets Zannen. As though her approval matters somehow. The appearance of Aaron is met with a secretive but none the less happy grin. “Hey boss man,” she greets the huge Smith flippantly. Zeroing her attention on poor Zannen and leaving her boss/boyfriend to handle T’ral for a moment. “Let me have a look at what you’ve got,” Kris tells Zan and relieves him of the bag setting it on the table. “Might take a few pieces out of it to get a solid piece going,” she warns the Seacrafter as she pulls pieces out and examines them closely. “How big’a box are you wanting?”

T'ral eyes the Weyrsmith with some apprehension, leaning noticeably when that big hand clamps down on his shoulder. "Ah, afternoon Weyrsmith." T'ral shrugs under Aaron's grip, "I ah… don't deal with unresolved issues very well." Ahem. "As you may have noted." He smiles ruefully up at the Smith, "If I should come back later still, though," he looks at Krissi and the Seacrafter, "Uh, I can do that."

Aaron returns that look to Krissi, grinning right back at her, and then looks down at T'ral. "That's entirely up to her," he says, nodding his head at the Woodcrafter and waiting for an answer before he releases the poor rider.

Poor Zannen? He's a little oblivious…though there's a certain tension that's entered the atmosphere, and he's starting to pick up on that. Sea blue eyes flick quickly between the huge man now keeping the rider company, the bluerider himself, and the woodcrafter woman before he shoves a hand through unruly blonde hair, clearing his throat. "Whatever yet think's best, ma'am. As to the size…it's a fair bit odd. Needs t' be about as long as m' forearm here," and he holds it up to demonstrate, " an narrow. Hinged, a little padded inside. 'S for a pipe." Fingers twiddle at the air in front of him, as if playing the instrument he's just named. "Stained dark, with a dragon carved into the top. Like this 'un almost," a gesture is swept at the cabinet again, "except green." He catches the big man's words at the edge of his hearing after that, glancing over at T'ral and then back to Krissi with mild curiosity.

Krissi isn’t at all sure what is unresolved about her issue with T’ral. It makes her curious enough that she flicks a look at Aaron, “If you have time to keep an eye boss, I don’t mind if he stays a minute.” In other words if Aaron’s busy the ‘rider must go. Because she’ll likely bop him on the head with a piece of this driftwood if he barks at her again. It’s for T’ral’s safety. Seriously. Yes indeed poor Zannen. Whipping out a measuring string she appropriates his arm where he’d indicated and measures out the length. Letting the boy go after with a nod as she walks over to make herself a quick note. “Dark stain and green slumbering dragon. Got it dear.” She sets things back in order and smiles at Zann, “May not come out quite as dark as that one as the wood I used is naturally dark, and this,” a piece of drift is held up, “is quite a bit faded. It’ll take a fair amount of stain to get it right. But I can have it for you in three or four days.”

Aaron smiles, and it's a dangerous smile, but he lets go of T'ral's shoulder, giving the lad a hearty clap on the back and then leaning against the door way to watch the festivities. This'll be good.

"Er, well, a flyin' one'd prob'ly be more fittin', honestly," Zannen corrects quickly, ruffling his own hair again. The bit about the stain has him nodding, as does the time frame. "Sounds more 'n fair," he says, shifting slightly from foot to foot. "How much 'd I be owin' ye in return, journeywoman…" He stops, blinking and tilting his head slightly. "I didn' even ask yer name! Sorry."

Don't mind the apprentice in the corner. Sori's been busily working on a blade this whole time, and it's not her business what the journeymen of her craft get up to in their free time. She has work to do which does not include saying anything to anyone. Busy. See? Pretty, sharp going to be knife.

Krissi nods her head, “Flying eh? I think I can manage that.” She’s picked up a book of sketches from the library and has been working on mastering them. The cost of the item is something she debates on. The wood he’d provided seems fairly sound and should work. So the stain, clasps, and time are what she’ll have to put into it. “Tell you what,” she says with a smile and retrieves a small bag about the size of Aaron’s big paw and half again bigger, “when you can fill this with abalone shells. As many as you can find, I’ll take a variety if it’s what you come across.” She holds the empty bag out toward the Seacrafter, “Fair enough?”

Sori looks up at the mention of abalone shells, but says nothing. The blade she's working on she wants to do something different with the handle, "Could you show me how to do an inlay?" is asked of Krissi, the blade is tipped up just enough to be seen as explanation, "Thought maybe the handle would look nice with some abalone inlay on it."

T'ral rubs at his shoulder and resettles himself, looking sidelong at the Smith. Lots of looks flying about, he pitches his voice low.

Aaron catches the muttering from the rider over the general noise of the shop, and nods. "Good for you two. Hopefully this'll be the end of the… quarreling." Because it was getting just a smidge tiresome.

When he's handed the bag and told what to fill it with, Zannen looks almost gobsmacked; eyebrows skyrocket and eyes widen. There's no way to she could have known that shell-diving was one of assignments back in the Oldtime - something he enjoyed greatly, even. Yet, here it is again! "Y'…Yer serious?" He gives a rather goofy grin. "Shells, 's a deal, journeywoman! I'll have yer shells, alright; no problem." The question from the apprentice has him noticing her for the first time, and he gives her an appraising glance, smirking. "Inlay in th' handle'd look right nice, I'd say," he offers, absently sifting his hair again. "Abalone works in a lot 'o things."

Krissi looks over at Sori and nods her head with a smile, “I can show you how to do an inlay.” She flicks a thumb over her shoulder at the other apprentices who are finishing up and cleaning their stations. “I’ll be teaching a class on it sometime this seven-day if you’d like to come.” She glances at Aaron and then back at Sori, “You’d have to talk to the big man in charge to get your hands on the abalone shells though. They’d be for him to pay back what I owe.” Does she owe Aaron something? Well perhaps not entirely. But she’s trading to pick up the shells he’s been looking for. She misses the exchange between Aaron and T’ral entirely. Zannen is favored with a beautifully happy smile, “Good trade then.” She does not in fact know what the Seacrafter does or has done. She’d been angling at making someone special happy.

Sori nods as she puts the blade through the last bit of shaping. It really isn't that sharp at the moment, but it soon will be sharp enough to split a hair with. The blade is roughly the size of a belt knife, and just a hair's breath wider. Sori looks at Aaron, and makes a mental note to talk with him later. Right now he looks a little busy, or distracted, or something.

Zannen shrugs a little when it seems the Smith apprentice isn't going to say anything back to him, and he goes about folding the bag Krissi handed him into a size that his belt pouch will manage. Something about the smile she gives him makes him blush a little (probably that he's just really appreciative of pretty smiles), and he gives a short bit of a laugh, rubbing his neck. "Aye," he agrees, and then he extends his hand. "A good trade indeed. I'd best be gettin' back to it then, ma'am journeyman." After a brief word of farewell to the others in the immediate vicinty, the tall Seacrafter is away, decidedly more of a bounce in his step going along with him than he entered with.

Krissi slips her hand into Zannen’s still smiling. “Just call me Kris,” she tells him as she shakes with him on their deal. She’d been distracted to the point she’d forgotten to offer her name to the poor kid. Not like her at all. “I’ll see you in a few days, Zannen. Have a good day, eh?” Dropping her hand to her side, she watches the Seacrafter bounce on his way with a chuckle. A note is made about the state of the carving in her notes below the measurements. That done she turns finally to T’ral and quirks her brow at him, “So? What brings you to my neck of the wood T’ral?”

Sori looks up at Zannen, and gives him a smile, "I've heard abolone is easy(ish) to work with," though she really doesn't try to keep the other apprentice from leaving. Now that the shaping is done, she has clean up to do which today also includes sweeping the floor and making sure all the tools are in their proper place. She'll be busy for a while.

Seeing Krissi finish up her business with the Seacrafter and come towards T'ral, Aaron steps out of the doorway, allowing the apprentice to exit, and wanders over to inspect Sori's work. He's still close enough that he's There, but far enough to give the pair some privacy. "May I, Sori?" he asks, nodding at the knife blade.

T'ral retreats into politeness, because -despite his behavior some days before- it's a place he's rather comfortable. T'ral nods at the Seacrafter on his way out. And now… Krissi's business with concluded, T'ral flicks a glance up to Aaron and walks up to the woodsmith. He dips his head by way of greeting, "Uh. Chagrin, ma'am." His ears color, and his eyes, break away before returning to Krissi's. "I came to apologize for my behavior the other day." He straightens, solemn, "It was inexcusable." However upset he'd been.

Sori gives a nod to Aaron as she hands him the knife blade. The shape of it is fairly standard with just that very fine fraction of an inch width being the only difference, "I saw something like this in a sketch that Tanmorand brought forward," she explains. She just wanted to see if it could be done or not? Clearly, since she's handing the blade to Aaron it can be done. Sometimes the girl just doesn't know when to leave well enough alone, and this could be one of those cases.

Aaron takes the dull blade blank and examines it, turning it over in his hands. "I think I saw this sketch when I was looking through his records. Very good job with it, though." He pulls a pencil out of a pocket, and makes some marks on the back of the blade, several lines just forward of where the handle will be. "Why don't you cut some jiping in there, to make it more controllable, then we can do the heat treatment tomorrow?" He keeps one ear turned towards T'ral and Krissi's exchange, just listening for now.

Krissi leans against the workbench and crosses her ankles, resting her palms on the edge of the table behind her. “I had wondered if you’d come to bark at me some more,” she admits with a slight shrug. She eyes the bluerider for several breaths before nodding her head, “Apology accepted T’ral.” She’d said things she hadn’t meant that day too. And so she drops her hands from the table edge and hooks her thumbs in her belt. A tad nervous when she tells him, “I didn’t mean what I said about.. well,” she flicks a look toward Sori. Who’s working away and chatting up Aaron. She really does like that girl. “You know what I’m referring to ‘rider. And I’m sorry for having upset you.” There that said and done she lifts herself away from the table and waves to the dart case. “I crafted that for you,” she tells T’ral with a smile as she steps aside for him to look at it. “It’s my way of apologizing for snapping at you when you’ve gone through a rough time.”

Sori nods, "I can do that," she says as she places the blade in the basket she has set for projects near completion, "Though to be honest, I have to get the clean up work done," a light rumble from her stomach has her grinning, "I believe I missed the evening meal," so she needs to wheedle a meal out of the kitchen, and get some sleep.

Aaron glares down at the apprentice for a moment, then shakes his head and sighs. "Just go, Sori. I'll clean up and cut the jipes. I swear, girl…" he mutters, but he's chuckling. "Go, go. Eat!"

"Ah, no, ma'am." He looks down. He looks puzzled at what Krissi might be apologizing for, blinking as he reviews the conversation. Oh. Yeah. She'd said some things. But T'ral took them in the spirit they'd been offered, appropriate affront and anger at his rudeness. "Ah, yeah, I didn't think a thing of it." Though he's actually curious now as to which thing she'd said she's apologizing for, there were a few. All of them he supposes. "You what?" He looks genuinely puzzled. "Ah, if you don't mind my saying… this isn't exactly reinforcing my good behavior. Shout at journeywomen, get…" he looks at the board, fingertips brushing the carving, eyes tracing the lines. He lifts the door open, admiring the hinges and the fittings around the rings of the colored circles. "If anything, I'm rather encouraged to grinch at you more." He grins, lopsided, "Thank you. It's very handsome," he peers at the little carved 'rider, "Glad to see there aren't any dartholes…" He looks up.

Krissi over hears Aaron shooing Sori off and mentally chuckles. Careful not to do so out loud and risk insulting T’ral for some reason. Watching the big Smith wander off to do as he’d told the apprentice he would. She wonders if anyone around here remembers to eat at a decent time. But her focus is on T’ral, “I wouldn’t recommend getting snippy with me often. It normally doesn’t end this well.” She shrugs her shoulders, “I felt bad to have gone off like I did. Simple as that.” She picks up her notes and looks around the shop real quick. “Enjoy the dart board. I figured you could use some distraction aside from playing pining love songs and making yourself worse.” And that’s an honest and gently made statement. “I’ve got to get a shower and get changed. Dinner plans,” she explains vaguely. “Have a good day T’ral.” And with that she’s out of the shop and heading for her office.

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