==== June 22, 2013
==== K'vvan, Aaron, Tanmorand
==== K'vvan reports for duty working on the middens and is told the 411 by Aaron.

Who K'vvan, Aaron, Tanmorand
What K'vvan reports for duty working on the middens and is told the 411 by Aaron.
When Midafternoon, 1 turn 11 months and 6 days until the 12th pass
Where Smithy



Smith's area is certainly not the prime real-estate in the crafter's section of the Weyr: but, true to Smith form, they've taken what they were given and made the best of it. At the tail end of a maze of winding streets, an iron gate is set within adobe brick walls, opening up into a narrow courtyard. Cracked cobblestones and paths overgrown with native grasses mar the place, though the influx of Oldtimers brings signs of improvement. A few gnarled trees provide shade over stone benches for people to sit and talk. In the back corner of the courtyard, where it can be shaded by the surrounding buildings, is a rather large copper still.
Off of this central area, there are several wooden doorways opening into the four sides of the small buildings flanking this narrow courtyard. To the left is the metalworking wing, its windows often kept open to keep air flowing and prevent the buildup of toxic fumes. On the opposite side of the courtyard, away from the metal's fires, is the woodcrafting wing. Straight ahead, opposite the entrance gate, are the living quarters - with apprentices on the bottom floor, and stone steps leading to the second floor offices and higher ranking sleeping quarters. Along the wall with the gate, there are various classrooms and working rooms with windows opening out to the streets beyond, so that their wares can be displayed for passersby to see - and hopefully purchase.

Aaron is sitting on a stool in the courtyard of the Smithy, working some figures in a sandbox. The normally swept-clean courtyard is full to overflowing with an incredible variety of pipes, fittings, and other tools. It looks almost chaotic at first, but as you look closer, order begins to spring forth from the chaos. Everything is neatly stacked, and it looks like it's been designed to flow out of the courtyard from the center towards the wings. Some great undertaking has been prepared for by a meticulous mind.

K'vvan enters the room at a run, face red with cold and his clothing still dripping from the Lake. His face shows that he knows he is probably late, and trying to call up a look of arrogance to put on for the smith, but the facade cracks quickly as K'vvan has to hold on to something huffing and puffing to get enough air.

Aaron looks over at the boy, eyeing his wet attire in the cold winter air. "Come on, inside," he says, leading the boy into the warmth of the forge room. The air is hot and dry, stinking of molten iron and steel and fire. Settling down on a stool at a workbench, Aaron gestures to another stool a few feet away. "After you go into my office," he says, pointing the door out, "and get the loaf of stuffed bread that's wrapped on my desk there, come have a seat and we'll talk, boy."

What was it with people wanting to /talk/ to him today? K'vvan wonders darkly. The run has cleared up whatever confusion had engulfed him on the beach and K'vvan simply glares at the Smith before going to get the bread. It is a credit to the rider, he moves quickly, still trying to get his breath back from the long run, and has the bread to the Smith as smartly as he can. Only then does he sink into the seat, his legs shaking slightly from the exertion as he holds out the bread to Aaron. Some of the red tinge from his cheeks is starting to disappear with the warmth of the fire.

Aaron chuckles, shaking his head as he passes the bread back to the young rider. "I got it for you, boy," he says, knowing full well the rations you've been put on. "I can't have you helping me if you're just going to fall over from hunger when I put you to work, and I'm going to work you like never before." Well, maybe not. He's not really sure. "How's your chest?" he asks, pointing. "No broken ribs, I hope?" What's this? He's actually concerned for K'vvan's well-being?

K'vvan looks at the bread, but he steels himself. "I don't need it." His voice comes out as gruff as he can make it while still being scratchy from the cold run. Stubborn pride is going to get him in even more trouble, but while Sienna might manage to get him to act human for a few seconds the Smith is a different matter. "I'm here to work, let's get on with it." In other words, the rider wants to be here as little as possible.

Aaron arches an eyebrow, still holding out the tantalizing smelling bread. "Boy… K'vvan, have a bit of sense, won't you? I'm trying to be nice to you here, but my patience does have a limit. If you won't eat, I'll not have you working with me or mine. I'll have to tell the weyrwoman that you're of no use to me, and she'll have to find something else for you to do." He sighs, shaking his head, then tipping it up to look out of the big windows of the Smithy. "I don't know if she told you, or if she even heard me, but I apologized to Nadeeth for what I put her through with you. I respect her, and I'd like to give you another chance to earn my respect too."

K'vvan grudgingly takes the bread. The last thing he wants is to stand before the tiny weyrwoman right now. Gold riders and by extension their dragons could cause all sorts of problems, and Nadeeth had just started to make some friends after her long isolation. K'vvan cannot bring himself to do anything right now that might hurt that, like being sent back to Weyrlings. Later, maybe, when this punishment is over… maybe. He opens the bread and bites into it the shaking from the run becoming less and less evident. "She heard you," he says quietly between swallowing a bite and taking another.

Aaron leans back on the stool in an obviously familiar position, elbows resting on the workbench behind him. "Good, I'm glad. Now maybe I can inquire after your well-being. How's your chest feel? I didn't break any ribs, did I? No trouble breathing?" Baby steps, right? As he leans back, he tilts his head enough that the light catches the faint bruise that you left on the Smith's chin.

K'vvan eats carefully, his eyes on the Smith. Each bite is taken with almost facetious cleanliness without more then a few crumbs dropping which are quickly caught in his other hand. After a few moments of silence while K'vvan looks the large man from top to bottom and seeing the sadly very small bruise on his chin he answers, still quiet. "It did not hinder my sweep this morning, nor my duty to Nadeeth." It's a careful dodge, because in truth, that bruise hurt as badly as when Nadeeth had first pulled her flip in the air and he'd been sent crashing into the strips and ended up with arm to waist bruises for weeks.

Aaron is silent for a long moment, but doesn't press things any farther. "I'm glad. I was half afraid that I hadn't pulled it enough. I want you to know something: I wasn't joking about what I said to the weyrwoman. My Da started teaching all of us boys to box, and then to just /fight/, when we were ten. He felt it was a useful skill for a boat captain to have. If that little slap on the back of your head had been a fist, you'd still be in the infirmary, at best." He pauses a moment, letting that sink in. "I didn't want to hurt you that bad, though. Fall's coming, and we need every rider and dragon we can get. And y'all need to get along, or at least trust each other. Oldtimer, newtimer, male, female, it doesn't matter. We need all of you, and we can't have you acting like a bunch of spoiled, stupid children."

K'vvan quietly sizes up in the Smith. This size alone lends weight to his assertion that he could easily have laid K'vvan up for a while. The bread is finished and K'vvan carefully folds the wrap back up, depositing every crumb he had caught in his hand into the folded napkin before he finishes. "Dragonmen must fly. When Threads are in the sky," he quotes, and stands up. "What work needs done." His face is a stony mask and his voice is flat, only a fire in his eyes shows how angry he still is at the Smith.

Aaron looks at the boy for a moment, then sighs and shakes his head. "I'd much rather all of the dragonmen, and women, came back. I rather like the most of you. There's no work for today. I just wanted to make sure you had some food in you. The real work will start once I get all the wagons we're going to need arranged for. You're free to go, I suppose."

"Don't play with me Smith," K'vvan snaps as he springs to his feet and shoves the stool away from him a bit too vigorously and it hits the ground with a loud clatter. "I don't need anything from you but to get this stupid job done."

Aaron stands, a slow, deliberate rising of a mountain from the sea. "You're not actually going to let your pride and your temper get the better of you again, are you, K'vvan? I'm really not in the mood for it today, and there're /much/ better weapons in here then table legs."

K'vvan stares up at the Smith, a gnat before his mountain, with anger still in his yes and fists clenched like he might just try to take the mountain on again. "I won't try to fight you Smith." It seems much too friendly to call him by his name, and even Smith is spat out. "I won't put Nadeeth in that danger again. But I won't let you play with me." So his anger is up, but common sense seems to have resurfaced over night.

Aaron shakes his head again, chuckling. "You're learning, but you're still a sharding fool, K'vvan. Nadeeth was never in danger. You haven't pissed me off to the point that I'm willing to kill a dragon." Sighing, he settles back down onto his stool, which creaks a bit under his weight. "No one's playing with you. I was trying to give you a chance to show me that you're more then the prideful child you appear to be."

"What do you call this then? Making me eat that I've been expressly told not to and then threatening to turn me in if I don't." K'vvan stays standing, his fists curled still and possibly even smoking for real as his clothing drys in the heat. The anger hasn't left his voice, but it tones down a little. What was it with everyone calling him a kid today? He was almost 20 turns for goodness sake!

Aaron chuckles, shrugging. "I call it taking care of someone that I helped put into a bad situation. And I was being honest. I need you at full strength if you're going to be of any use to me, and I really do need the help." It's an honest answer, and an earnest voice. "Think of it as an investment in seriously improving my living conditions, if it makes it easier for you."

"You did nothing I was not fully prepared to take the consequences for." K'vvan replies stiffly. At least it sounded like the Smith isn't trying to shame him by the offering. However, K'vvan is fully aware he acted badly the day before, even if he isn't willing to take back his hasty words about the female riders.

Aaron runs a hand through his hair, sighing again. "K'vvan, you keep playing with fire, and you're going to get burned. And trust me, getting burned sucks. Really not pleasant at all, figuratively or literally." He looks up from where he sits as Tan enters. Aaron's on a stool, leaning back comfortably against a work bench, while an angry looking K'vvan is standing in front of him. "Hello, Tan. How's life?"

"I'm a dragonrider, Smith. Fire is our trade." K'vvan loosens his fists, and lets his hands drop. Suddenly he is really, really, really tired. Sweeps, practice, running around with Nadeeth at the Lake and then to here is catching up to the rider. And there was still a sweep run to do tonight.

Tanmorand ducks into the Smithy, brushing off his hands and shaking shavings from his shirt. Someone was working in the woodworking wing. "Fair," the big Smith answers the other big Smith, before glancing at K'vvan. And then he frowns a bit. Ah. Someone's reputation precedes him. "K'vvan," the Smith says, still extending some respect to the greenrider. "How goes the project?"

Aaron arches an eyebrow, then pulls up his sleeve. On the bottom of his right forearm, a wide band of angry scarring starts just above his wrist, and continues up, under the sleeve, no telling how far up it goes. "Trust me, K'vvan. Your trade or not, getting burned sucks." Turning to Tan, the big man grins. "Oh, Just doing a bit of planning," he says, pulling the sleeve back down. "Making sure that young K'vvan here understands what we're going to be doing with the middens. Has the Weyrwoman decided where she wants us to dump the… refuse? We're going to have to get it all out of there to get to the piping safely."

K'vvan might get a complex if people keep calling him young. K'vvan simply stands there, not sure of who this other man is but assuming it is another smith.

Tanmorand finds a seat to sprawl in (with a creak - have to fix that later) and eyes Aaron's burns with professional sympathy. "Not that she's told me," he answers. "I'd think somewhere in the desert though. Are you two allowed to have help or does it have to all be done by you?" He glances between them and then grimaces. "Don't fancy your pretty green will like hauling all that gunk, though. Maybe use some of the heavier iron pots to crate it around, make it less…." Vomit-worthy?

Aaron arches an eyebrow at Tan, chuckling. "You haven't been down there, have you? I'm having to organize a wagon train. If it's just the two of us shoveling, it'll take a couple seven day just to get all the dreck out of there! I was planning on making the apprentices help out, too. Get them nice and tired out for a change." Turning back to K'vvan, he looks questioning. "Could Nadeeth get in there? Would she be at all interested in helping?"

Tanmorand's suggestion that Nadeeth get anywhere NEAR refuse is so appaling that K'vvan takes several steps back. His finiky dragon hated to get dirt on her scales let alone get near human refuse. But Nadeeth's touch in his mind gets him to calm back down. "She says she'll help… but only if she doesn't have to get near anything gross. But she's already flying two sweeps a day plus pratice, she is going to be tired. I will not have her hurt herself." For his dragon K'vvan will go toe to toe with the Weyrwoman herself.

Tanmorand gives Aaron a level look. "It's hardly been on my list of places to visit," he drawls. Did he ust make a joke? Maybe? Looking back at K'vvan, Tanmorand grimaces and lifts a hand. "I meant no disrespect, rider," the Smith says quietly. "It was only a suggestion, and apparently a poor one."

Aaron chuckles at K'vvan's response, grinning. "Well, if she's up for it, we'll just get her to move the materials over there, then. Everything we're going to be hauling out is pretty much raw sewage, so it's all going to be nasty. We're not going to ask you to endanger your dragon, K'vvan." But they've already discussed that, haven't they? "Oh, K'vvan, this is Tanmorand, Sr. Journeyman Smith, weyrmate to Sadaiya." Yup, that's right.

"If I think she is too tired she won't do anything, no matter what she says." K'vvan says firmly. He nods to Tanmorand, but doesn't say anything else. Weyrmate to the queen or not, he didn't have any particular connection to K'vvan beyond that. And if he was that to the oldtimer queen, he was probably an oldtimer himself.

Tanmorand leans forward, extending a hand to the greenrider. "Well met, K'vvan," the Smith says, and there's nothing hostile about his voice or demeanor. He sounds calm and polite. "Like Aaron just said, no one is going to endanger your lifemate. Never," he reassures the hot headed youth. YOUTH.

Aaron watches K'vvan just nod at the introduction, sighing quietly under his breath. Stupid, stupid kid. Tan's attempt at politeness is watched with interest, just to see how the greenrider reacts.

K'vvan looks at the hand and tries to calculate exactly how he wants to respond. On one hand, he's an old time. On the other well… at least he wasn't a female aspiring higher then himself? Finally he shakes the hand firmly, though most likely not with the same strength as the smith would return it, and lets go of it as quickly as possible. "I had to leave Nadeeth by the lake. May I go?"

"Is she injured?" is Tanmorand's concerned question, making that assumption due to K'vvan's statement of 'leaving' her there. Jivayath goes wherever she wants.

Having not considered that, Aaron turns renewed interest to K'vvan. "She's not injured is she?" Sighing, he shrugs. "Yeah, nothing keeping you here. Swing by same time tomorrow, and bring her if she's up to it. We'll see if she can lift any of the pallets out there.

K'vvan gives Tanmorand a measuring look, and shakes his head. "No," then he adds, rather out of character and only because he's talking about his lifemate, "she was playing with others and she didn't want to leave." He nods to Aaron. "We'll see how she feels." He turns and the rider makes his way out at a less then the breakneck speed that he had entered the room.

Tanmorand nods, with a grin. "Ah!" That he understands. "Clear skies, rider," he says, and when K'vvan is gone the Smith leans back in his chair and looks at Aaron. "So…want to tell me your side of things? All I got was Sadie's and she's…a bit hard to follow at times."

Aaron watches the rider leave, then turns to Tan and shrugs. "Boy's got a mouth on him, and opened it to Nell while I was there. I know she's perfectly capable of handling herself, but… Shardit, you know how I am. Saw him in the Bazaar a couple days later, needled him a little bit, and the sharding fool took a swing at me." He pauses, pulling out a flask and taking a sip. "Water," he says with a grin, shaking it. "Figured out he was in over his head, and grabbed a bleedin' BROOM for a weapon. I wasn't gonna hurt him, just smack a bit of sense into him, but he takes up a weapon and I, ah, kinda lost it. Ripped a leg off a table and was going after him with it. Was just gonna use it to trip him up, but I guess it didn't look that way to anyone else." He shrugs, at least managing to look a little ashamed.

Tanmorand nods a bit as he listens to the story, and when it's done he shakes his head. "I thought Sadie might've been exaggerating about the table leg…" he mutters, frowning at his fellow Smith.

Aaron chuckles, shaking his head. "Ahhhh, nope. But tell me something, Tan: when was the last time you saw a rider, or anyone for that matter, take up a weapon against someone that they started a fistfight with?" From his tone, it's obvious that he considers it an offense against good behavior. Not the fight itself, but trying to change it when you're losing.

Tanmorand presses his lips together and shrugs, leaning back and tucking his hands behind his head. "I don't see many fights, Aaron," the big Smith admits. "Tend to leave before it gets to that point." No sympathy here.

Aaron chuckles and shrugs. "Guess it's just how I was brought up. You know my Da was a Seacrafter, right? He always felt that a good thumpin' was a wonderful educational tool for his crews when they needed one." He leans back on the workbench, sighing. "I figure two, maybe three days to get all that dreck cleared out, and another couple to dig up the old plumbing. Then we'll see what needs replacing and get to it."

Tanmorand shakes his head, "Not how I was raised, sorry," he says with a little grin. And then he nods, "Are you allowed to have help?" Didn't he ask that already?

Aaron chuckles, shrugging. Everyone's different. "Your lady didn't tell me I couldn't and she seemed to want it done sooner then next month, so I'm going to assume that I am. To be honest, though, I'd rather not have you down in the muck, unless you truly want to be. Someone has to stay here and mind the store." He grins, giving you a wink. "I was thinking of going down to the brig and, ah, recruiting some idle hands from there, too."

Tanmorand chuckles, "Well if you don't want me down there I'm not going to argue with you about it." He's not stupid. "That's a fine idea."

Aaron laughs, grinning. "I didn't think you would. I hope Sadie wasn't /too/ mad at me, then? Not throwing stuff, at least?"

Tanmorand shakes his head. "She wasn't happy. You were both really stupid about it all. A table leg, Aaron? Really? Against a rider? Were you drinking?"

Aaron laughs, shaking his head. "Nah, if I could blame this on the booze, I would. I was stone sober. Like I said, I wasn't gonna hurt him. If I'd wanted to, I could've put him in the infirmary with the first hit I got on him. He tried to rush me. ME!" Aaron shakes his head at the stupidity. "I ain't saying it was the smartest thing I've ever done, but it was almost over by the time Sadie showed up. I was just planning on knocking a bit of respect and sense into him." The man shrugs, taking another drink from the water filled flask.

Tanmorand shakes his head again. Disagreeing, clearly, but…what's he going to do? Knock some sense into the other Smith? With a groan, Tanmorand just pushes to his feet. "Well, at least some good work is going to come of it."

Aaron chuckles, shaking his head. "I know, I know," he says towards the disagreement. "It won't happen again. I've already made a new table for Ravene, out of my own funds, and took it down to her this morning." He pauses, nodding at Tan's words. "And who knows? Maybe it'll do him some good to see what us crafters have to put up with. I swear to Farenth, it's amazing that this Weyr didn't blow away with the dust…"

Tanmorand chuckles throatily, giving the man a nod. "That," he agrees, "is the truth. Back to work, let me know how I can help.”

Aaron chuckles and tilts the flask in salute. "Will do, boss. Have fun!"

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