Who

Jaune, Xanthee, Zetali

What

Zetali bumps into Xanthee in the Crafter Quarters, and they're joined a little while later by Jaune.

When

It is evening of the thirteenth day of the tenth month of the fourteenth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Crafter Quarters, Igen Weyr

OOC Date 20 Aug 2018 07:00

 

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"Don't you always catch me red-handed?"


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Crafter Quarters

Set high against the steep slope of the Weyr caldera, the Crafter Quarters lie subtly removed from the Bazaar below them. They bustle, but it is a slower bustle from the mercantile flurry: the scurry of Apprentices being sent on errands, the muffled shouts of irate Masters, the bursts of bangs and clicks and clacks as Crafters carry out their work. The familiar abode brick buildings of Igen line this little web of streets, some colorfully painted, some drab and dull. With the portioning of space first come and first serve, some Crafts have laid claim to multiple buildings, while others are forced to share space – sometimes in rather incongruous ways. Private rooms are the domain of Journeymen and Masters, while Apprentices must make do with cramped dormitories, when they are not reduced to claiming mere corners.


Although it's not as bewildering as the Bazaar bustle, the Crafter Quarters are still a busy place. Specifically, the scurry of Apprentices being sent on errands, which is exactly how Zetali has spent most of her day. Now, late in the afternoon, the apprentice luthier trudges back into the Crafter Quarter from outside, looking hot, dusty, and thoroughly looking forward to a scrub down and maybe a nap. The hood of her plain dress is swept back to bare her dusty brown hair, which is a bit frizzy from its confinement. Her features are catching enough to make up for how painfully plain her clothing is; strong and well-defined features, sea-green eyes. She heaves a tired sigh as she swerves, heading for the apprentice dorms, but she's still got a decent walk through the crafter commons to get there first.

From an open doorway leading into one of the private rooms occupied by journeymen, Xanthee is sweeping energetically at the sand that seems to trudged in on a daily basis. Wearing a long dress of forest green that makes large emerald eyes pop even more than usual, her raven tresses are tied up in a messy runner tail. Head down and working industriously, she doesn't notice Zetali until, with one final flick of the broom, sends a cloud of dust right in the apprentice's path. "Oh Faranth, I'm sorry!" she exclaims as she winces sheepishly, "Hope I didn't get you too badly."

Trudging without really thinking about it and only half paying attention to where she's headed, Zetali's eyes are a little unfocused, deep in thought. The thoughts are pretty underwhelmingly mundane, though: Maybe she should have stopped for something to eat, first, and then she could have crammed in a few minutes' catnap between the demands on her time… oh. Hello. Zetali pulls up short when she sees sudden movement, eyes snapping into focus just in time for—"Aa… achoo!"—a faceful of dust! She rubs her face briskly, squinting through the dust. "Huh? Oh. No, sorry, I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. At all." She looks down, as though to gauge how bad her dress got, but it's… hard to tell, being kind of the colour of dust to begin with.

"No, that was my fault, I should have been looking where I was sweeping," Xanthee replies with a crooked grin as she leans the broom against the doorjam before stepping towards the Harper. She almost reaches out to help knock any dust from the girl's dress, but then thinks better of it and lets her hands drop to fiddle to her skirts. From inside the room, a little queen firelizard zooms out and drops a clothing brush in her humanpet's hands, which Xan then offers to the other girl, "Here, to brush off the worst of it." A nervous smile tugs at the corners of her mouth as Selkie settles herself demurely onto her shoulder, tail entwining itself around her neck as she tilts her tiny, wedge-shaped head in Zetali's direction. "I'm Xanthee by the way, and this is Selkie," she introduces them as her hand reaches to gently scritch along her firelizard's jaw.

Snorting the last of the dust from her nose, Zetali reaches up to run fingers through her hair. It's sticking out a bit but it's shoved into a messy horsetail, more concerned with keeping it out of the apprentice's eyes than looking nice. "Oh. Thanks." The clothing brush is taken and briskly swatted down the front of her dress. It may not be much of a dress, but she likes it clean. "Don't worry about it. Accidents happen. Oh. Well met, Xanthee. And Selkie," she adds civilly, bobbing in a mock-bow to the firelizard queen. "I'm Zetali—" There's a chitter from her hood, which… moves around a bit?! And a delicate little firelizard snout pokes out from the folds of cloth, whirling eyes fixed on the new strangers. The blue chitters again, and Zetali automatically reaches up to run a finger under the critter's jaw, along its soft throat. "—And this is Sforzando… even if he's more of a Pianissimo, today."

"Well met yourself Zetali," Xanthee replies with a warm smile as Selkie preens and gives a magnanimous croon for the bow she receives, even a mock one. At the movement from the harper's hood, the little queen chirps quizically as she stretches her neck to get a better look at the little blue. Xan's emerald eyes blink owlishly with mild confusion as the girl introduces her own firelizard, not really 'getting it', but maintaining a grin all the same. Taking the brush back with a nod, she pokes her head back in through the open doorway to put it inside before regarding the apprentice with one meticulously shaped eyebrow lifting in question, "I don't think I've seen you around here before, although there are so many crafters, it's hard to keep track of you all."

Once awake, the little blue creels, as though to say an exuberant, 'I'm here!' He's not in any apparent distress, anyway, though Zetali winces a little at the sound next to her ear. "Never mind. He's definitely living up to the name today." Once her dress is presentable, she smooths the front of it a little in unconscious gesture. "I'm not really surprised. I've been sent here to study under a Journeyman. I've only been here a short time. A few sevendays at best."

"Oh right, that's fun. Where are you from originally? How's Igen been treating you?" Xanthee asks shamelessly, her curiosity getting the better of her as she leans on the door frame, her arms crossed over her chest. From her shoulder, Selkie takes off to perch from the lintel overhanging the door where she has a better vantage point to watch the interactions below. To the little blue's cries, Xan's smile broadens, "Is he new too? He looks little."

"My family lives near Keroon Hold. I'm the youngest of eight. And it's been… hectic. Really hectic." Zetali's half-smile is a little self-deprecating. "But that's because I'm an apprentice Harper, not because of where it is. And I don't really mind. Although I guess any Weyr is going to be hectic. Especially with Threadfall. All these dragonriders must be really busy, huh?" Her smile turns just a little melancholy. Maybe she secretly dreams of Impression. Plenty of folk who doesn't know what it is to be a dragonrider probably do. Is her firelizard new? "Yeah," she adds, tiredly, with a fond pat on his wedge-shaped snout. "He's maybe twelve? Thirteen days? Ugh, I've been so busy I'm already losing track," she adds, with good-natured disappointment. Her eyes pass over the knot. "Oh… oh." She straightens, with another chagrined smile. "Assistant to the Junior Weyrwoman? Shells and shards," she swears under her breath, and then straightens a little more. "I'm terribly sorry for not showing my respects, Ma'am." Despite being the one dusted. Well, at least she's polite, anyway.

Xanthee chuckles amusedly as the older girl speaks, nodding when appropriate, eyes widening when she mentions the amount of sibling she has and finally laughing heartily at her last with a confused blink before shaking her head slightly, "I've never had anyone call me Ma'am before. That's new. And not necessary, I assure you. Nasrin's the one who deserves the respect, I just work for her." Although demuring from the acknowledgment, there's a mild puff of pride at Zetali's reaction to her knot, causing Xan to stand a little straighter, shoulders back. "So from Keroon Hold huh? And yeah, a Weyr always seems to buzz with activity, you'll get used to it. So what's you're specialty? In harpering I mean," she queries.

"I've never been to any Weyr before, so I guess I'm still feeling my way along…" Zetali chuckles a little nervously, reaching up to try and brush her hair out of her face. She eventually shrugs and unties it, quickly gathering it back up into a slightly less frazzled-looking horsetail. "There are so many people. There were a lot of people in Keroon Hold, too, but not like this. It's a little exhausting, sometimes, but it's nothing I can't handle." The reaction isn't missed, though, going by how Zetali's eyeing the assistant. "Yes, Ma'am." It's a light tease, this time, although somewhat cautious. She likes levity, but she's still feeling her way around when it's okay to take that tack. "I'm a luthier… or I want to be, anyway. Stringed instruments, specifically. Harps. Lutes. If it has frets and strings, I'm probably studying it." Zetali glances left, then right, down the corridor nearest them. "I want to make an instrument like Pern's never seen before. Something with a voice like a dream, fit for a Masterharper to play, and storied enough that it'll be remembered long after I'm gone!" The apprentice grins, sea-green eyes bright. It slips a little into a more lopsided expression. "Sounds pretty silly, I know, but I do like to study how to put them together, anyway. They're wonderfully complicated, delicate things."

"I guess I take it for granted having grown up here. I bet I would be just as out of my out element were I to move to a Hold," Xanthee replies with an easy shrug, laughing at her tease, "Stop it, or it might go to my head." Reaching up to her own runnertail, she pulls it free and lets thick raven tresses cascade down her back before running fingers through to settle it atop her head. As she goes on to explain what she is doing in her craft, Xan listens with interest, nodding appreciatively as she follows the best she can. At the harper's last, she raises a brow appreciatively before tilting her head to one side, "That's ambitious indeed. I wish I was better at making things with my hands, you crafters all make me envious of your talents. Have you been studying for many Turns?"

"It'd be quieter than the Weyr," Zetali points out, with some amusement. "A lot quieter. I think the only reason I was able to sleep after I got here is because I grew up with seven siblings. I got to learn how to sleep through anything. And as the youngest, I learned pretty quick how not to be underfoot." The apprentice folds her arms over her chest. "How long? Oh. Since I was twelve Turns. I wanted to be a Harper since the first time I heard a lute," she adds, with a grin. "So about eight Turns, then? But the things I make right now… they're only passable. Barely that. It might be a while before I can walk the tables. My instruments always seem to have a small, critical flaw in them… but I'll get there." Beat. "Eventually."

"Probably too quiet for me then, I need the bustle, it's part of me. Couldn't imagine being anywhere else," Xanthee replies simply with steadfast pride for her home Weyr. "Sounds like sleeping in the dorms in the lower caverns when I was growing up. I've never actually had a place to myself, I probably wouldn't be able to sleep if I was all alone." Following along as the harper answers her question, she grins warmly, "Oh that's great, that you've always known what you want to be an went for it. I envy people like you. I'm still figuring things out for myself, but I like where I am right now." Doing some quick mental math, she raises a brow quizically, "So you're a couple turns older than me, I'm going to be nineteen around Turn's End. So…what do you do for fun then?" she asks, wry smile playing at the curve of her lips.

Ah. The Hustle. The Bustle. The grumpy gold firelizard one of Jaune's shoulder is doing its utter best to ignore the whining bugles of the brown on his other shoulder. And Jaune looks entirely DONE with the whole thing. He even reachs up to try and shut the brown's mouth with his hand to no avail. Still whiny whimpers. So he gives up. The Crafter Quarter's seem known to them, so the gold flits off with the brown close behind, to the apprentice dorms. "Blessed silence from the mewls of friendly browns." A veritable ugh as the young man debates following them. And decides not. Theres plenty of other things to do today.

"I could go either way. The bustle is definitely more interesting, I'll grant it that. I'm still learning how life is in a Weyr. It's all about the dragons, but I've never really been close to a dragon, before…" Zetali shrugs, but carefully, so as not to dislodge Sforzando. "It's a little scary. But they're beautiful, and I've never heard of a dragon actually attacking anybody, so…" So it's just needless worrying. Hopefully. Right? They don't eat apprentice crafters, right?! Ahem. "Always known? I guess you could say that. Stringed instruments fascinate me. More than the other Harper pursuits. I love to play them, sure, but what really gets me is how they're put together. What makes 'em tick so the Masterharpers can get the most out of them… nineteen turns? That's not so far off." What does she do for fun? Zetali blinks owlishly, as though in her exasperated exhaustion, she doesn't quite understand. And then she jerks a thumb at the passenger in her hood. "I feed this little bottomless abyss, that's what." She's joking. Probably. Maybe? Her attention swivels to Jaune and his bugling brown firelizard, though, and she grins prettily – uh oh, that might be a bad sign, right? "Jaune! Fancy meeting you and your noisy little friend, here. How goes the vintner's craft?"

Xanthee flicks a dismissive hand gesture at the thought of a dragon ever hurting anyone, "Oh no, dragons aren't like that at all. I've never, ever heard of one attacking anyone, it just doesn't happen. Nicer than some people I've met that's for sure." There's an obvious note of longing in her tone as she speaks of the majestic creatures, a sparkle of quiet hope in her eyes as she grins some more. "I know quite a few riders actually, if you ever want to meet one up close, I'm sure it can be arranged," she's never been one to refrain from tooting her own horn, although her talents lie more in who she knows instead of what she knows, which is a large percentage of the population of the Weyr's lower caverns. Jaune is shot a look of surprise at the caterwalling from his brown firelizard, Selkie, from her perch on the lintel, warbles admonishingly at her brown offspring as he takes off after the gold. "Oh, you've gotten yourself a gold little friend I see. Speaking of golds…Were you able to find a safe place to hide from all the women seeking company for untoward thing during Rajakhelath's flight? You werent't…" she gasps dramatically, "Taken advantage of I hope."

From about his neck, he unwinds that scarf that kept sand and dust from his mouth and nose during his excursion, it slips through the loop of his satchel. "Yes yes. Good and all." Jaune responds to Zetali. Without looking at Zetali. He has decided that he is not going up to his cot quite yet. Let them all tussle over his pillow or what not. He'll turn to whomever knew him enough to greet him by name and pull a wineskin from his satchel. Towards the two ladies who…he knows both of them. And one of them embarassingly so. "Rajakhelath's flight…And the…amorous… attentions…" And his feet slow then halts. "I…err…Um. Maybe?" Jaune glances signficantly towards Zetali. Mistakenly implying..tawdry things….It wasn't her! But its OBVIOUS how someone might think it might have been.

"And now I know," Zetali says, with a grin. "Like I said. I've never actually seen one up close. Oh, no, that isn't necessary. I mean—not that I wouldn't like to see one, but I'm sure the dragonriders are busy. I couldn't take up their time like that… they've got more important things to do." She reaches up to idly stroke the firelizard's head poking out of her hood; the little blue's rested his head on her shoulder, now, although his whirling eyes are still watching everything with the sort of studied indifference of a cat. "But, I mean, if you wanted to," she adds, almost under her breath; just the faintest trace of longing in her own voice. Who doesn't dream? But Jaune's reply takes her attention, and the would-be luthier glances between acquaintances old and new. Or new and slightly newer, anyway. She glosses over Xanthee's teasing question to Jaune, because she doesn't actually Know Yet, the poor dear, she's in for a nasty shock when she learns Other Details of Weyr life. Jaune stutters to a halt from whatever he was going to say, and also shuffles to a halt, too. Zetali blinks at him, inquisitively, and then grins. It's not necessarily nice. It's the expression a feline wears before it leaps on its prey. She can't help it. She can't help it. He just gets so hilariously flustered. "'Amorous attentions,' eh?"

Xanthee eyes the wineskin Jaune pulls out with interest as she doesn't quite stifle a giggle at his reaction to her teasing, brow raising speculatively as she sees his glance towards Zetali which makes her wonder. "So is that a yes then? It's no shame you know. Weyrfolk aren't stuffy about this sort of thing you know. We aren't a prudish lot." With a friendly wink she turns back to Zetali with a shrug, "Well if you ever feel like it, just head over to the lake on any given day, there are usually dragons bathing there. And riders are just like everyone else, yes, they do an important job, but they are just people at the end of the day."

Its a good wineskin, 'purloined'. Jaune thumbs the stopper open and takes his own drink first. Because he is apparently going to need it with these women abound. A good pull and its offered across towards Xanthee. Trust a Vintner to have wine on hand. "That is a very strong and firm NO." Jaune startles and raises a hand towards his mouth to ensure wine hasn't leaked out on him. "I found myself very much alone that night. Thank you oh so much." Another glance off towards Zetali from Xanthee. Where is a man supposed to look now?

"The lake," Zetali repeats, to confirm. "I'll have to do that. Thanks… Ma'am." Now she's definitely teasing, with a sly smile of her own. She does glance at the wineskin but offers no comment. Not yet, anyway. "Yeah… just people. It's a little harder to think of them as 'just people,'" she adds, with a sheepish grin. It fades. Then it comes back, but more cat-like. "No, huh? Are you sure? You're awful quick to deny. Sure you didn't share some of that vintage of yours?" Man, he won't even look at her, he must be really twitchy. Zetali can't help it; she finally laughs. "Shells, man, but you sure are jumpy. What, do you think we're going to bite? Well, Sforzando might, I don't know. He's only nipped me when he's gotten hungry, though."

Xanthee rolls her eyes a little at Zetali's teasing adress of 'Ma'am' before waggling her finger in the harper's direction with matching good humor. "And they are just people, like you and me, really, once you meet a few, you'll see." Maybe Xan's at an advantage in that department, having grown up in the Weyr herself, but she demures for now, dropping the topic for the much more amusing distraction of Jaune and his firm denial. Nodding her head in agreement with Zetali, she comments, "Oh I agree. The boy protests an awful lot." Laughing at the harper's next, she slides her gaze back to the vinter, "No, seems he has ideas that women are all crafty creatures, ready to pounce on an unsuspecting innocent young lad and ruin his virtue." Looking back towards the open door to her cozy home, she sighs softly, "I should be getting back to my cleaning, the dusting isn't going to do itself. It was nice to meet you Zetali, if you ever want to do something fun and not Harper related, well you know where to find me," she inclines her head towards her domicile. Then to Jaune, she offers a teasing wink, "Don't worry, you're quite safe from me, I am off the market as it were." Grabbing the broom leaning on her doorframe, she nods to them both in turn before entering and closing the door behind her.

Jaune is quick to affirm his being untouched, this is true. But no blushing wilting flower is he today! "This vintage is still corked, thank you, Zetali." Xanthee doesn't take his wine though, but he still manages a quick nod to Xanthee as she goes to leave. "A pleasure to see you again, of course." Then to return it to his lips for a quick sip. "I haven't been bitten yet. Nibbled at a touch, at most." Its held out towards her, and his gaze moves from it back up to her once more. "And how is your craft? Has your sweet sounds been heard by a soul in this weyr?" The young man does his best to turn it about on her.

"I've met a few, actually… Wingsecond Divale, and Wingrider Doji. But I wouldn't dream of demanding their time any more than I already did," Zetali adds, waving her hands as though in protest. "They were very kind." It's time for Xanthee to go, though, and Zetali bobs forward in respectful almost-bow. "Well met, Xanthee. I'll be sure to do that. And if you ever want a break from your duties, well, you probably know where to find me, too." Meeting new people is always good! Meeting new potential friends, even better. Still grinning just a little, she turns on her heel, to face Jaune. She doesn't say anything just yet; just looks at him, as though the cat were sizing up the mouse and deciding whether it were worth the effort of pouncing. The wineskin offered her is eyed for a moment, and she seems to be seriously wrestling with herself – before shrugging and taking a hearty swig from it. No shrinking violet is this, either. She offers it back. She narrows her eyes at him when he turns her question around on her, but it eventually turns into a wry half-smile. Well played, sir. "Sweet sounds, huh? Aren't you bold, all of a sudden? Is this what a little wine does to you?" Needle, needle. It's good-natured needling, though. "No. Probably not. At least, not remembered. But that doesn't bother me. I'm just an apprentice, you know? And playing isn't actually my focus, anyway."

He is given a reprieve when the woman takes up his wineskin and drinks quick from it. But now he has her full attention. The man manages to keep himself composed as Zetali turns her wicked feline gaze upon him. Tension in his jaw knotting as it clenches, then releases. "I had this, and tasting of my ale. And…tasting of my criticism. Too much of this. Left too long, they said." Both of them have dealt with not quite reaching their best, haven't they? "Probably not? Imbibed a bit more than we have been strictly allowed to? I thought that was easy only for those of us providing it." The skin is shook once before he drinks from it once more, offered to her once more. To hold her presence for the moment.

"It isn't all that bad." Zetali's comment comes with a dismissive flick of one long-fingered hand. The tips of her fingers bear the tell-tale calluses of a harper. "You'll get there. This isn't there, yet, but it's well on its way, in the opinion of a humble harper apprentice." She shows her teeth again. It's almost a grin. "I play when it's required of me, in the cantina or elsewhere. But I like to make, like I said. And everyone else likes me to run errands. Which isn't so bad. That just gives me time to think about making. And get used to finding my way around here. I still get turned around every so often." She takes up the wineskin offered, helping herself to another hearty drink. Holding it out at arm's length, she shakes it, squinting critically at it. "Needs just a little something more, I think. Not that I'm any expert judge of wine." The wineskin is offered back. "You have any more of this left, or is this skin the last of it? I'd hate to drink all of your project on you."

"It's the things that call us to our craft. I've only been with Vintner for…5 years? I was an apprentice smith. For a good amount of time. Got called away." A pained smile and he shakes his head quickly. "This was bartered for. Its not my creation, hard to get the grapes down here. Nobody supplies the apprentice with hard to get goods, when they don't expect him to ever walk in this interval." A quick shift of topic. "I believe it came from Fort Hold. Finish it. Good drink is only important with good company." Jaune sips once more before offering the remains to Zetali.

"I've been in it for about eight Turns, but I didn't go into another Craft Hall, either, so I've got that extra time. Plus, I knew what I didn't want to do, and that's herding." Zetali waves a hand dismissively. "I could do it, and did do it for a little while when I was small, helping my older brothers and sisters out. But it just didn't interet me. Not like…this." She holds up her left hand, splaying her fingers to show the calluses there. When he's seen, she drops her arm to fold both over her chest again, frowning a little at his comment on never walking the tables, but saying nothing. She's wondered that, too; faced the same frustrations and failure as him. The wineskin is squinted at again as she accepts it from him. "…Bartered, huh? It's still not bad wine. Hope you didn't have to barter too much for it… thanks for sharing. I'll play you a song, some time. Payment for this." She drains what's left, giving it an extra half-second or so just to be sure it's empty, before offering it back. "Buck up, though. You'll walk the tables. So will I. Maybe we'll walk the same Turn." Again, that irrepressible smile, less cattish and more encouraging; pretty, in its own way, and offset by the vivid sea-green of those bright eyes. "I want a sample of your vintage when you do. I'm sure it'll be splendid. You're doing what you love to do, it sounds like."

"Yes. It took me most of the time I have been with the craft to convince them to stop making me carry things and actual show me something." Vintner might be a bit…possessive with their secrets and knowledge. Brows furl together and teeth worry his lip at her motioned hand, callouses from playing? "A song would be nice. Even if it's not your sweet sounds." Did the man intentionally flirt again? Chances are…no. Because no blush and he is continuing to speak as if it didn't happen. "I would worry less about walking, if I hadn't had a few journeyman tell me not to expect it for ten years or so. Doing what I love is not skulking about to sneak barley to water…." Downtrodden tonight, perhaps having a trumpeting brown in his ear didn't let him shake the day on his walk back. "Zetali." He says her name once more, as if he might lose it. "You don't have to play for me. Sharing drink with you is payment enough. I wouldn't say no to a freely offered song. I don't get to hear as much as I would like."

"A battle every apprentice knows well." Zetali pulls a scowl at that. Even she had her fair share of apprenticeship drudgery, and she still does, from time to time. It isn't all bad, though. Like she had mentioned, it gives her some welcome time to think. "On the other hand… we've all got to start somewhere, right?" The apprentice shakes her head, reaching up to rake fingers through her hair, to tame those flyaway bits. Sea-green eyes flick back to him. Did he just…? "'My sweet sounds?' What, you think I can sing?" She laughs, then, a sound just a bit too raucous for the hour of the evening. "I can't. Trust me. It's better for everyone if I just stick to the strings. I bet Sforzando would start squalling if I tried a tune." Either she intentionally ignored any possible subtext or flirt, or she's unsubtle and totally missed it. It's hard to tell. "Eh?" Her name gets her attention. She listens for a moment, head still canted at that slightly ridiculous angle of 'having just gotten her attention seized,' eyes a little blank as she belatedly catches up to everything he says. "Oh. W-well, it's not really a problem for me; I mean, it's what I do, you know?" Is that a touch of colour in those well-defined cheekbones? Surely not. "Freely given," she adds, waving a hand dismissively, bfore cocking her head and studying him again, less cattishly and more seriously. "I can go get my lute, if you want…?"

"It was a joke. Your sweet sounds. Like the sounds…you'd…Yeah." He held his course until that flash of red sparks in her cheeks, and his begin to color as well. Chin sweeping over to pull his gaze from her to distract himself. "If it wouldn't trouble you, I wouldn't mind hearing what you could play. I only remember a few. Maybe I can guide you to them? See if you know them?" His tongue teases out to pull at his incisor, to clench the tip between his teeth for the moment in thought. Held in place as he turns his gaze upon her and she isn't after to tease him. Which sets him to worry. (Blame Khaylia for this. Serious women yell at Jaune!)

"I know what you meant," Zetali drawls, smiling that catlike smile in spite of the colour at her cheekbones. "I just wanted to hear you say it. Catch you red-handed, yeah?" It's a bad habit of felines to play with their food. Going by that catlike smile, she saw his own blush and totally got her victory. "It's no trouble at all. I am a Harper, even if I'm just an apprentice," she points out. "Be right back." And with that, the apprentice harper is dashing across the commons, one hand flung up to steady the firelizard in her hood. She's back quickly enough, too, proving she's got some practise at running around. Literally. The lute she's carrying is plain but serviceable; she gives it an experimental strum, head cocked like a dog listening to a sound beyond human hearing, eyes narrowed critically. One hand fiddles with a tuning knob at the instrument's carved headstock. "Ugh. You know, I bet other Weyrs don't need to deal with instruments getting thrown out of tune because of the heat…" Mumble, grumble.

"Don't you always catch me red-handed?" Of course she was waiting for his admission. Damnable women out to get him. Hir rapid depature carries him several steps after her, to carry him towards whatever means of conveyance could hoist his form in a sitting position for her song. To plop atop a seat cut inset to a barrel by an enterprising smith. Because you do not waste wood. Its a cozy spot fit for a vintner. "Its a very solid instrument, miss. I like it." Apparently he has taken too long, and fluttering wings carry firelizards to clutch around the rim of the barrel chair. To croon quietly with the stroked strings until quiets by a quiet glare. "

Glancing left and then right, the apprentice harper scoots to one side, so she isn't in the way of foot traffic. It wouldn't do to play something nicely and then get trampled by an apprentice rushing madcap down the hall for whatever reason. Apprentice rushing around can happen at any time of the day! In fact, usually she's the one doing the rushing. She settles for leaning her back against the wall, one boot raised to plant against the wall behind her, the hem of her dress draped around it. Fixing her instrument with a deceptively sleepy-eyed regard that isn't in the least sleepy, she makes the last few adjustments as her blue firelizard slithers out of her hood and drapes over her shoulder, tail twining loosely around her neck. So adorable. But she doesn't speak, instead flexing her fingers before striking the strings for the first time – an experimental chord; a discordant minor that seems melancholy as the strings resonate. She sets to work after that, once she knows it's all in tune, launching into a soft melody just as melancholy as that chord she had struck; steady and unwavering but still somewhat discordant. It's pretty, altogether, if a little unsettling, and faintly familiar in the way of a melody one can hear once and swear they've known it all their life. Sforzando mercifully does not croon along. This time.

She looks nice, all perched and set back against the wall to strum her lute, and the almost dreariness of the song eases his straight back to recline into the smoothed wood at his back. A boot from a pair that has its dust brushed away quite recently lifted, and settled overtop of his knee as he lays in repose for her. Music does something to most things, of any species, and his firelizards are far from unaffected. They settle upon their hind legs and lift upwards to watch her closely. Possibly the first time they have heard music in their lives. Jaune waits, through its rise and fall until her fingers might still upon those strings, might go back to cradle the fragile instrument. "I do not believe my wine could have matched the offering of your playing."

The apprentice harper takes her sweet time with the tune, never rushing, never hurrying to reach the final measure. Once it comes, she lets the note resound, before gradually splaying fingers over the strings, muting them and indeed cradling the body of the lute in an elbow. Sea-green eyes flick back over to Jaune, studying him; thoughtful. And then he gives his judgement of her performance not through applause, not through a smile or a gesture, but through that simple statement. Zetali twists her head to look away, abruptly; the spill of her hair as it falls from its runnertail is enough to hide the flush. "…hmph. That was good wine, and now you're just mocking me." She doesn't look back at him, but then again, she also doesn't move to push off from the wall or leave. She stays rgiht where she is.

Jaune starts at her quick movements and he sits forward once more, planting elbows upon knees as if THIS is the time to beat a hasty retreat. "You, yourself said the wine was only pretty good…You were much better than pretty good." He goes to sit back again, but doesn't, no, nervous anxiousness sets him up to his feet again. Which surprises his firelizards who flutter and settle down over the arms of the barrel. "I apologize." Because complimenting someone is something to apologize for. "I didn't mean to bother you."

"It wasn't bad, but it wasn't good. I'm sure there are better wines out there, and I'm sure there are much worse, too." Zetali frowns a little as Jaune abruptly backpedals from what sounds like an unintentionally honest compliment. She frowns even more when he gets back to his feet. "Oh, come off it. It wasn't that good. This isn't even a good instrument. It's made for an apprentice like me. A beginner's strings. Damned thing keeps going out of tune, too," she adds, shaking it at arm's length as though to prove how uncooperative it is. "Besides, I was the one who offered in the first place, wasn't I? But if I'm really that terrifying, I'm not going to stop you if you want to run away." she adds, with an exasperated sigh through her teeth. He might be fun to needle, but not when he's in such genuine distress. It takes all the sport out of it. "You're confusing."

"Yes. I am sure there are better Harpers out there. But there are worse ones too. You are one of the best that I have heard." Jaune is standing now, facing her, enough that the outstretched lute more than halfway crosses the distance between the two of them. "Its a solid instrument. I would not expect to get to hear masterly crafted instrument in my lifetime." His hands settle upon his belt, thumbs hooking behind the buckle and his shoulders rolling forward. "I find you equally as confusing. You take an honest compliment and return it as if I were joking. Mocking you. I did not think I gave that impression."

"I don't… that's just… you're not…" Zetali's half-hearted protests are strung along one after another, but none of them resolve into a proper argument. His clumsy compliments are almost embarrassing and she can't quite figure why. "W-well, no, I'm not the best Harper out there. That'd be Masterharper Fenic, probably. Or maybe Craftsecond Varric." She glares, although there actually isn't a lot of animosity behind those blazing sea-green eyes. "Oh, shut it. You were too mocking me. Any wine that can be bartered for here is valuable." Zetali throws her free arm out to indicate the desert around them. "Grapes don't grow in sand, after all. If you're telling me I'm the best Harper you've ever heard, you sure haven't heard a lot of Harpers, that's for sure. There are a few Journeymen posted here. Look one of them up some time. I'm sure they can show you what a good instrument's supposed to sound like." At least she's cooling down a little. "But…" Maybe. "…Thanks. It's nice to dream a little, anyway." Zetali pushes off from the wall, cradling the lute in one arm. "I'd better be going. I'm sure my Journeyman has plenty of time-consuming and tedious work for me to do tomorrow morning that nobody else wants to do." A sigh, and a flat, beleaguered, 'you-know-my-pain' look. Her moods are as mercurial as the wind, it seems, but that good-natured slyness is never far from the surface. "Keep at your Craft, too. I intend to hold you to that tasting, Vintner!" she states, throwing a mock salute. "Good eve, Jaune. Rest well… if you have the opportunity." With that, if he doesn't move to stop her, she'll turn and march for the apprentices' dorms, firelizard still nestled in the slack of her hood. In fact, Sforzando's tail hangs from the gathered folds, twitching in time to Zetali's gait.

"I have heard quite a few Harpers. I learned a lot of my craft at Benden Hold. So I've heard a Master or two. You're just very good." Jaune's nose crinkles then as he may have stumbled upon why it sounded so good to him. At least in his mind. "Perhaps because it was being played just for me, Zetali. And a song for myself, played just for me is a treat worth the labor I traded for that paltry wineskin. Thank you. Truly." He isn't going to let her go, he has his own places to be. Even if its sleep like her. Back and away he steps to let her sweep off towards the stairs before he offers hands and arms out to the firelizards to clamber up from wrist to shoulder. A wince or two at claws. "Good night." Before she gets too far. And before he follows her up the stairs to the dorms. Because they sleep in decent proximity to each other and they ALREADY said goodbye.

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