====February 7, 2014
====Kultir and Donatien
====The Weaver and the Hunter meet up to trade tunnelsnake skins and tanning techniques.

Who Kultir and Donatien
What The Weaver and the Hunter meet up to trade tunnelsnake skins and tanning techniques.
When First Day of the 12th Pass
Where Tipsy Kitten



The Tipsy Kitten
Here there be drunkards: a marble bar and the gorgeous array of colored bottles behind it would be enough to draw them in, but more yet lures those to enjoy the recreation the Kitten has to offer. Windows allow light to naturally illuminate the first floor of the tavern in the daytime, while green-tinted glows shine after nightfall. A door behind the bar leads to the tiny kitchen, while a stairway leads above to the rooms available for rent. Among the hubbub and the ruckus, a calamity of tables scatter through the open space, plenty enough for dragonpoker tournaments on restday eve.

The door to the tavern bumps open to admit Kultir to the hectic space. Glancing around, he spots an empty table and tramps over there before the table can be claimed by a pair of other weyrfolk arrowing in on it. "Sorry, boys … little too late." The young tracker's tone is pleasant but firm that they find another place to sit. Settling into the chair, he motions to the barmaid that is passing close by and orders a cold ale.

Sometime after Kultir's entry, Donatien fills the frame with his own reasonably broad self, grinning in an manner totally self-satisfied. He saunters up to the bar, as best as an arthritic man can, earning with one question a mug of lager. Business done, it's time to party, so Dien makes his way through the maze of chairs and tables until he finds a free-ish one, occupied only by a familiar face: "Hunter!" He proclaims, "May I sit and enjoy a bevvy with you?"

Kultir chuckles softly as the Weaver enters and saunters toward his
table. "Have a seat, sir. You're actually one of the people I've been looking for." He pushes the chair toward the older man with his foot from under the table and motions to the barmaid again. "How was your day of weaving or clothes making or … whatever?" He waves a hand in a circular motion as potential tasks for the other runs out.

Over the curve of the pint, Donatien's sip is punctuated by raised eyebrows - that first sip just couldn't wait, but Dien lowers himself into the offered seat slowly, plunking the pint down in time: "Looking for me, mm?" Donatien leans forward, bracing himself on both arms at the table's edge, "My day of tanning was fine, thank you," though it's suspicious that the Weaver doesn't /smell/ like tanning solutions, "The Apprentices didn't spoil many hides, so all in all, a good day." A generous slug of lager accompanies that, and then, "And yours, sir Hunter?"

Kultir grins as he lifts his own tankard in a slight salute to the older man. "Yes, looking for you … past couple days now. You're a hard man to track down sometimes, you know?" Broad shoulder shrug slightly as he lifts a chamois covered bundle from the basket beneath the table to set on the table and push toward the man. "Tanning, eh? I was working on a bit of tanning myself. Tell me what you think." He settles back in his chair and watches the Weaver curiously.
You sense that Kultir is looking for you in The Tipsy Kitten (#24841).
Kultir pages, "You open the chamois covering to reveal a bright, shining blue, grey and silver mottled scaled tunnelsnake skin. The back is softly cured and it's rather supple, weight is similar to the chamois."

Donatien is nose-deep into his lager when Kultir pulls up a bundle, which he eyes with interest: "I've been on the move," the Weaver says vaguely, even as his free hand twitches for the edge of the cloth. Inside, a tunnelsnake skin rests in mottled blue, grey, and silver glory. Dien takes a moment to examine the leather, mming softly as he gently uses the edge of surrounding fabric to lift up the underside. "Work well done," the Weaver congratulates, "Though how you did this in the wild is beyond me." The Pernese version of a city boy. Dien looks up, then back down to the tunnelsnake: "How much time did this cost you?"

Kultir's smile is genuine as he watches the older man examine the snakeskin as well as the chamois and nods slightly in gratitude. "I'm glad you approve. Not exactly in the wild, just outside the Weyr so it doesn't stink up Kalea's ledge and weyr. Didn't want to … intrude on where ever you do your tanning either. At least not until I'd worked out the proper technique." When ask about time, the young man sighs softly and shrugs. "Never really figured it out since I work several hides or skins at a time. Generally get a batch done in five to eight or nine days. Then gotta let them sit without more working for another eight to ten days. Why?" He's never considered how long or how intense the work is, so long as it lets him do something besides sit around.

Donatien ahhhs softly at Kultir's response, still lost in the snakeskin examination: for a moment, he pulls his head up to grin awkwardly, "Yeah, the ladies aren't so big on the smell of leather before it's actually leather," and there's a little inside joking as Dien lets the flap fall closed. As for his question, Dien doesn't explain much, "Just wondering. A good hide will tell you when it's done." Weaver lore or actual fact? Dien's not hinting either way with his expression. In any case, "Some fine work there. I'll make you a pair of boots from it, for the rest of the hide, if you find it agreeable."

Kultir's eyebrows rise at the offer of a pair of boots out of that hide and frowns slightly as he considers it. Taking a long drink of his ale, he tilts his head and flips the chamois off the hide to run a finger over the smooth scales. "I do need a different pair of boots but … I wasn't really thinking anything fancy for them. Let me show you what else I've got for you to play with." He leans forward to rummage in the basket at his feet beneath the table. Two more bundles are pulled out and set on the table as soon as he finds them. Neither of these bundles are wrapped in chamois but wrapped around themselves. The first reveals a charcoal grey, nearly black, skin that looks dull though there is obviously a texture to it. The second shows a smooth dark brown and black mottled skin similar to a cured porcine skin though with fewer creases. "I'd like a pair of moccasin boots out of these and a pair of elbow length gloves." He points at the smooth skin before moving his finger to the oddly textured one. "The soles, palms and fingers out of this one." He looks up at the older man curiously to see if he thinks it can be done.

Donatien's eyes brighten a little at Kultir's mention of 'more', but he downplays that a little, his free hand waving away the very idea, "No, no, nothing fancy in your travels. Dependable. Durable." He's a second away from insisting 'no capes'. The professional in Dien resists the tones 'oooh' and 'ahh', but he allows his finger to caress the skin of each new bundle presented. Nearly biting his lip in excitement, the Weaver listens to the request and nods slowly - "That's entirely feasible, though it will take a little longer than regular gloves. But," Dien switches hats and leans back in his chair with lager in hand, "I'll do it for the lot of skins." An easy grin follows.

Kultir chuckles softly at Donatien's comment about nothing fancy and shakes his head. "No, nothing fancy. Though I would like a jacket out of a couple of the scaled ones for Kalea at some point." He watches the man caress each skin with a finger and grins a little wider as he enjoys the older man's enjoyment of the skins. He nods at the information that it would take longer but his smile fades a little at the offer for the 'lot' of skins. Biting his lower lip he settles back into his chair and takes a long drink of his ale, automatically signalling the barmaid for another since this one is almost gone as well. "For the lot … " He calculates what he knows Donatien's work is worth compared to the number of skins he's got in his basket and slowly nods. "Yeah … okay. That's fine. I've got seven of these in various colors, all bright and just as pretty as the blue." He touches first the chamois covered skin before wrapping the other two back up into their bundles. "I've only got four of the rough ones but there's about a dozen of the smooth skins and I treated them like porcine skins so that they'll be thicker than if I'd chamois'd them. Okay?" He looks hesitantly up at the older man, entirely unused to doing trading or bartering of any kind.

Donatien eyes the skins thoughtfully: "If we make boots and gloves, I should be able to get something to you in a couple of seven-days." The lager is quickly emptied with Donatien's last swig, the pint plunked down to one side as he examines the last bundle brought up curiously, "And a jacket shouldn't be too long, if it's not for flying." There's a gleam in Donatien's eye as he orders another drink, the pint picked up to wave indicatively at a waitress and as it's served, Donatien leans forward, starting to explain, "Well, it defines what you can do with the skin, but that can be as varied as what you might…" And on the Weaver goes, his baritone humming on about tanning leathers and their uses, into the evening and long past the time where some other patrons would have dearly loved using that table. Their hints go ignored, however, until Donatien runs out of words. Good luck waiting on that.

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