Who

Hannah, Isaura, Nathanael, Quae

What

A little bit of this and that, craft-style!

When

It is 7:36 PM where you are. It is evening of the sixteenth day of the fourth month of the first turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Craft Complex, Southern Weyr

OOC Date

 

hannah_default.jpg IsauraViolin.jpg nathanael_default.jpg quae_default.jpg

craft_complex.jpg

Craft Complex

Craft Complex
Expansive and airy, this space, now adorned and decorated with the pride of well over a hundred crafters. A vaulted cavern encompasses two levels, fit with clever skylights from innovative smithcrafters that illuminate tapestries displayed from the bannister of the second-floor: Healer purple, Harper blue, the yellow of the Farmcraft — all the colors and all the crafts are upon display, proudly. The lower level is given to tables and chairs and a hearth stocked with klah; it is brightly-illuminated and a place to study and congregate socially both. The upper level is given to residential rooms, lending the whole atmosphere a pleasant, if somewhat supervised, aura.
On the perch are Spy and Agnes.
You notice NotARealPlayer asleep here.
Quae and Nathanael are here.
Obvious exits:
Miner Wing Harper Wing Healer Tunnel Bowl Apprentice's Wing Herder Tunnel Smith Wing Rooms


-- On Pern --
It is 7:36 PM where you are.
It is evening of the sixteenth day of the fourth month of the first turn of the 12th pass.
In Igen:
It is the seventy-sixth day of Spring and 60 degrees. Clear and bright, the night shows no evidence of either rain or cloud fronts.
In Southern:
It is the seventy-sixth day of Autumn and 56 degrees. Throughout the night, the warm autumn rain continues to fall steadily.




Nathanael is attempting to hang something on the ceiling. Attempting being the best word, because even standing atop a table, with a chair on top and a box he is just barely able to reach the out croping he is going for. A complicated set of knots hangs from thin strands of fishing cord, each made in the colours of Southern. It looks clearly like something that has been made by an apprentice, perhaps one of the weavers. Under him the less than steady perch wiggles like it is about to fall.

Quae enters, apparently just coming in from the fields. At least, that's what she looks — and smells, sorry — like. She is half-dazed after a long day's work and her tunic is caked in dust and soil, some of which drifts gently to the cavern floor as she clods through. She almost doesn't notice Note perched so precariously, but once she does, she double-takes. "Cripes, Nate, I know being a 'pprentice is rough, but suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem, mate. Do you need a hand with that?"

As a junior of Southern, it is Hannah's and Bailey's job to work as the craft liaison between the craft heads and the heads of the weyr; on this fine afternoon, Hannah emerges from the Harper wing with a grizzled man in tow. Some serious conversation is had in murmured tones before they part ways. The junior weyrwoman is making good strides through the complex, dressed in a pretty little sundress of butter-yellow with moonlight-pale hair held back with equally yellow clips, when she espies Nathanael. "What are you doing?" she can't help but ask, pausing to watch the seacrafter with his chore. Not like she can help, being of no real height advantage. Quae's arrival turns Hannah's attention from Nathanael, which causes the woman to gesture at the boy. "Yes, yes, help him. Last thing we need is our Nate splattered on the floor." Part laughter, but part real concern too.

Blond hair slips over Nathanael's eyes as he twists precariously on the box to peer downwards at the pair that have just come in. The box wiggles as he does this and he pauses in attempting to hang the knotted thing for just a moment to regain his balance. "A'lo Quae!" is the chipper enough greeting. But when Hannah speaks he squeaks just slightly, "Sorry ma'am! Be down 'n just a second, gotta get this hung real quick." And to show how intent he is on hanging the thing he stands on tiptoes and finally manages to snag the fishing cord on a rough out hanging in the rock.

Quae rushes forward as the boxes wobble dangerously, leaning her weight against the makeshift ladder to hold it steady. "And splatter he would, on this floor," she grunts as Nate moves around, ducking her head as the fishing cord swings above her. "This is why I keep /my/ feet firmly on the soil. Much less chance of melon-cracking that way. What are you doing, anyway? Did you get permission to hang this here, or are we going to be repeating these shenanigans in a few days when you get yelled at to take it down?"

One brow raises as the two apprentices work to get whatever it is that Nate's created hung on the wall. Only when it appears as if neither apprentice will suffer the consequences of their head meeting the floor, does Hannah rock back on her heels and eye the pair of them — in Quae's case, she has to eye a little (lot) upwards. "Yes, Nate, why are you putting that on the wall?" Because she is surely confused as to the whys of apprentice shenanigans. Mirth holds in the glint of emerald green eyes and the way she struggles to not smile indulgently. To Quae, "You must be a new face," or a face that Hannah doesn't remember. "I'm Hannah."

After baping the creation once to send it swinging (and check to make sure it isn't about to fall) Nathanael jumps off the box and down to the much more solid table below. As if to underscore how unstable his ladder had been the box slips off after him to clatter down to the floor. Clapping his hands together in the universal sign of 'well done', he jumps down from the table to smile at both Quae and Hannah in turn. "Celin was sayin' no 'un liked her knots, 'n I told her 's just 'cuz no'un'd seen 'um yet. So figured I hang this 'un up f'r 'er so people'd see 'n like it. Did no' get permission… but figure 'e masters'll jus' tell me t' take 'er down, 'n that ain't too hard."

Mischief managed, at least for now, Quae steps away and flinches as the box goes tumbling. Hunching her shoulders to keep it from falling on her head, she squints at the young Seacrafter, trying to parse his strong accent. She understands about half of what he says, so just opts for a confused smile and a nod before turning to Hannah. "A new face? Well, I've had it for quite some time, but I s'pose it's new around here," she jokes, dipping her head in respect. "Well met. I'm Quae, apprentice farmcrafter."

"Welcome, Quae," Hannah greets, offering the apprentice farmcrafter a genuine smile, before that smile eclipses to a frown when she turns to Nathanael. "Now," she tells the boy, "I don't want to see you," scooping up the field mice, "stacking stuff like that again," and bopping them on the head, "and climbing up on them. You could have gotten hurt!" That's right, little bunny foo-foo Nate. Bad! No cookie. Ahem. The stern expression lasts until Nate gives some kind of response, "You could have fallen and your days on the ship would have been done for." Not that she can really talk, but hey, do as she says, not as she does!

Nathanael is wayyy too polite to remind Hannah about a particular monstrosity that sat upon the sands a while back. Instead his bright smile flickers slightly downwards and he glances back at the less then steady structure. "Yes ma'am. I'll be bein' more careful 'n 'e future." He brightens abruptly though, and points at the knotted hanging. "Do no' ye think 's pretty tho'?" He looks between Quae and the weyrwoman.

Quae inspects the hanging with an unpracticed eye. She's not really one for much decoration, but she's also not one to go around offending people she doesn't even know, so: "It's very… it's very nice. Celin made it, you said? I don't think I've met any Celins." Her brow furrows momentarily as she tries to recall, but she shakes her head. "Nope. Guess that's another one I'll add to my list of names to learn. I should have 'em all down by the time I'm… um, dead."

Hannah stepped up on that platform out of love, now. "Yes, do be careful. With as many giants as Southern offers, one of them could have hung that for you." Now humor filters into the stern expression that eventually melts away. "It is…" she eyes the knotted thing critically, slips Quae a quick look and then puts on a very neutral mien, "… very nice of you to put that there." Quickly she turns the topic of the conversation to ask of Quae, "How's the harvest looking?"

Nathanael doesn't even pay a moment of attention to their less than exuberant analysis of the apprentice weaver's work. "Ye'll learn 'em all quick 'nough. 's not like bein' a 'pprentice up north, 'cuz've 'e classes we all got t'gether." Nathanael says reassuringly, then turns to jump back up on the table so he can grab the stool and bring it back down to ground, now that it was no longer needed there. "Ain't no'un expectin' ye t' keep 'e craft t' yourself."

"Pretty decent, considering—" And Quae stops herself before jamming her oversized foot in her mouth. She's still adapting to the Newtimer way of doing things. "It's good. You couldn't ask for a better climate for growin', well, just about anything. Seems like you could just drop some seeds behind you as you trekked about and they'd sprout up just fine. The methods here are very, um, traditional, which has been workin' real well, but I think there's some fine tunin' we could do to boost the yields. If folks are… amenable." The corners of her almond eyes crease tensely, then relax: "But it seems like it's Southern's way to be innovative, so I'd say it looks real promisin'. Nate's right. The crafts have a lot t'offer each other."

"It is our stance that innovation be key," Hannah comments lightly, touching on an indulgent — yet interested — look to the two crafters. "You should seek out Torulik, he's a fellow journeyman farm crafter here. Perhaps you can shadow him, if you haven't already. At least the grubs were not wiped out by the comet." Have no fear, Quae! It is widely known that Hannah is an old-timer and not one to hold the now-timer strict beliefs. "Having everyone in the same area has promoted quite a bit of cross-craft interaction, I hope?" It's a leading question, posed to the two who are still going through their classes.

"Aye ma'am! 's been 'e best, one've 'e weaver's 's takin some've 'e knots what we use on 'e boat and is tryin 'em 'n this new weave've his." Nathanael settles the chair back on the ground, and then scoots off to go grab the box. "I'll be seein ye Quae, 'n ma'am!" With that box hugged tightly to his chest he skips towards the dorms and disappears within.

Quae can barely mask the look of confusion on her face as Nate speaks, so it's with disappointment but also a touch of relief when the lad scampers away. She twizzles a pinkie finger in her ear, shakes her head, and turns back to Hannah. "The Weyrfolk seem excited about the grubs, t'be sure. And yes, this common area means we're all intermingling at least twice a day, which helps the ideas spread, I'd wager. I was talkin' to one of yer clothmakers about making some coarse cloths we could bury in some of the nursery garden beds to help manage the weeds - they grow like crazy here, so fast they strangle the food plants we're tryin' to coax along."

Isaura tramps into view from the Harper Wing, her violin case in hand. There might be a bit of dust clinging from the wing but there isn't very much with the renovations mostly complete there. She's got a keen enough ear to overhear Quae's mention of intermingling. "Nothing better than ideas spreading, keeps them from getting lost after all." is offered with a grin towards those already here.

Sometimes what Nathanael tries to say is hard for Hannah to decipher, so it's with a slightly confused look that she sees the little seacrafter off. Still, an indulgent smile comes to play, as if her fingers itch to pinch the cheeks of the boy. "Oh, good idea." The junior weyrwoman pretends to know some of the finer details of garden life, but this is why she has brilliant minds to take care of the small details! "Ideas are like weeds, they should spread." The good kind of weeds, that is. "Good evening," is the warmth of greeting for the arriving Harpercraft apprentice.

Quae nods a greeting to Isaura and one of agreement to Hannah, then casts a glance around, her eyes lingering on the warm food available at the hearth. She makes a movement in that direction, then pauses and plucks at her clothes, remembering she's yet to bathe and change after working all day. Indeed, as she inspects her clothing, more dust and dirt falls from her and she wrinkles her nose. She doesn't smell that offensive - the loamy smell of rich Southern soil mingles not-too-unpleasantly with her body's smell of soap and sweat - but she should still clean up before finding something to eat or getting all that dirt on the upholstered furniture. "It was lovely to meet you, Junior Weyrwoman — and fellow apprentice," she says, smiling at Hannah and Isaura, "but I really should head for the baths and round up some dinner before the food's gone. You'll excuse me." And with a nod to both, she scurries towards the baths and a fresh change of clothes.

Isaura offers Quae a nod "Pleasure to meet you too, perhaps we'll exchange some ideas soon." is offered as the other woman heads off to be about her own business. Turning to Hannah she offers a respectful nod "Sorry if I interrupted your conversation weyrwoman. But the finding of all sorts of different types of folks and ideas floating about the Weyr is quite interesting. I spent much of my life traveling from one settlement to the next and sharing information but very little of it was new things to learn, you know?"

A faint smile is Quae's farewell, along with a murmured, "Enjoy. Pleasure to meet you as well." Then she turns back to the Harper, "Not at all. That's the purpose of the craft mingling. Is to get exposure to different types of people and different types of crafts. We can't always think the same way, can we?" She dips her head in a nod, tucking pale hair behind her ear before regarding Isaura curiously, "What is your area of study? I'm Hannah, by-the-by."

Isaura pauses a moment to consider "Hannah rider of gold Dhiammarath, correct?" it's almost as if she tests her own memory, not that she thinks she'll actually get it wrong. "I'm Isaura, Harpercraft Senior Apprentice. Though I'm aiming for the coveted Journeyman's knot as soon as I can." there's a bit of a grin as she admits to that tidbit of information. "Just started staying about Southern for more than a sevenday at a time myself, so I'm still getting faces and names in proper order, at least sometimes. My main focus is teaching and the violin, I'm a player by heart."

"Yes, you've got it correct." Hannah bobs her head once in a nod before, locking her fingers behind back and tilting her head at Isaura. "Good luck to you on your project, Isaura, and welcome to Southern." The last is given in a husky voice filled with warmth. "Unfortunately, Dhiammarath is insisting that I attend to something or other, so if you'll excuse me." As the goldrider turns to go, she tilts another smile up at the apprentice, "Hopefully, someday I can hear you play," before she takes her leave and continues on with her day.

Isaura beams at the confirmation that she was in fact correct. "Wonderful, at least now I've a face to go with the name and the dragon. Too often I find myself teaching things I've never seen before. Living at the Weyr for awhile will give me a better understanding of the Teaching Ballads that I pass on. After I get that knot of course." she waves in the direction of the departing weyrwoman. "Oh I'm sure you will, playing is one of my greatest enjoyments. It was quite nice to meet you!"
Add a New Comment