It's steaming hot outside, between the thunder and the lightning and the rain. Inside, it's cooler in the craft complex, though still hot enough for the denizens within to go around a bit more scantily clad than you'd see in other similar annexes around Pern. Tzielle maintains modesty even in a gaggle of shirtless Smith apprentices, or maybe because?, a shapeless overlarge tunic worn over shorts that fall to mid-thigh. She's seated crosslegged in the middle of the complex, surrounded by worn-out dragon straps. She's showing the apprentices how to slice the stitching around buckles free, enabling recovering of precious metal resources. "And then," her clear Igen voice rings out, "Then you slip it through and test the pin before putting it in the bucket for re-use."

K'rev pays close attention, a rather degraded strap in hand. His eyebrows are slightly furrowed as he watches intently.

Spring storms, gotta love them! With his sandy blonde hair still damp, F'kan exits the hallway that leads to the tanner craft, probably to replace the strap leather for the ever growing dragonets, especially since they are going to start mounted flight soon. He run his hair though messy locks, his chin sporting a faint shadow of stubble as the assistant weyrlingmaster pauses when he spies Tzielle at her task instructing. His eyes rest on K'rev with a friendly smile as he merely watches for the time being.

Footsteps can be heard from a distance, getting louder as in walks Obethan from the herder complex, he having completed his tasks for the day. He glances around for a few moments, his hazel eyes slowly flitting from one person to the next. Politely he waves to the group. "Greetings." He sways in a soft-spoken voice as he notices a crafter giving instruction. He halts there for a moment, content to watch.

"Always," Tzielle preaches, "Hold the buckle facing you, wedge the knife in between the doubled leather, and," she emphasizes this with capital letters evident in her tone, "Cut Away From Yourself." She grabs a strap, flipping it around to hold it firmly by the buckle. She wedges her blade in between where the leather doubles over and slices through the bindings in a controlled push outward. She'd be hell on wheels if there's ever an oyster-shucking contest 'round these parts. She looks up to K'rev in particular. "Got it?" she asks, an earnest question written on the lines of her face. F'kan and Obethan both rate a quick smile, though her attention is firmly focused on making sure each member of this little group can do this without hurting themselves. There's a LOT of straps to go through, so preventing first aid seems rather… frugal.

K'rev nods sharply and says, "Yes Ma'am". He turns and glances around the area, before resuming his careful listening stance.

Watching the care Tzielle takes in her demonstration, F'kan crosses his arms over his chest and tilts his head a bit to one side attentively. It's not until the demonstration is completed that he moves closer to get a better look. The quick smile of acknowledgement is returned and Obethan is also given a nod for his greeting. "Everyone trying to start dry huh?" he asks jovially as he casually leans on a nearby table, not looking to stay long enough to grab a chair apparently. "I appreciate your emphasis on safety, Journeyman," he remarks, "The weyrlings injure themselves enough without knives being involved." A husky chuckle follows his observervation.

Curiously, Obethan moves closer to the group still observing the instruction that is given curiously, still content to remain silent for the time being.

Tzielle smiles brightly at K'rev. She has a lot of teeth, as it turns out, but it comes across more as big-teeth rather than predatory: it does little to make her seem any older, and instead - in conjunction with her overlarge shirt and shorts - makes her seem to still firmly be a teenager. She turns that smile to F'kan, though it dims appropriately when she makes out the doubled loops of his knot. "Sir," she replies, painfully polite. "I try to make sure they all have fingers when they are done." She gestures at all of those around her to go ahead and start their own buckle-reclaiming process, and wiggles down a little more to keep an eye on all the fingers in question. "Want to help?" the Smith asks the lingering Obethan, her infectious smile bright as she directs it upward to the Herder.

glancing around the area, K'rev's eyes grow large. He seems nervous about something, but almost as if he is downplaying his emotion, trying to act nonchalant about it.

"Certainly. I don't see why not." Replies Obethan to Tzielle. "May I ask what is being created?" His voice soft-spoken and polite as he makes his way to the group.

wiping his brow, K'rev now turns his attention to Obethan.

There's something about F'kan that exudes casualness at the moment, so even Tzielle's most proper greeting is met with a respectful bow of his head back in her direction, his own crooked smile flashing a bit of white teeth in her direction. "F'kan is fine. I only really insist with the weyrlings, and like I said, it's appreciated," he remarks in a smooth tone. Frowing slightly, he gives Tzielle a more thorough look over, which may be miscontrued as checking her out, but really, he's trying to figure out if they'd met before and if they had, should he know her name. The brownrider meets a lot of women…we'll just leave it at that. "Are you new here?" he ventures a guess and really hopes he's not wrong.

Thankfully for everyone involved, Tzielle is oblivious to most all men's attention and doesn't misinterpret F'kan's intent one-over. She grabs a worn-out strap and gestures with her knife for Obethan to come closer. "We're harvesting old buckles. See?" She slices through the stitching and wriggles the buckle off the remaining leather, then smiles encouragingly at K'rev. "Do you need a knife? We have extras." To F'kan, she nods, a little distractedly. "Just got here a couple sevens ago. I'm Tzielle."

Obethan does as gestured, moving close until he is apart of the croud. "Yes if that would be alright." he says as he observes the harvesting of the buckle closely, noticing the strokes of the blade across the leather as well as the tracing of the material very closely, his eyes not leaving the demonstration presented. Noticing how the buckle is riggled off of the material he gives a little smile and waits for a knife to be presented to him.
K'rev is prepared to watch Obethan harvest a buckle, keeping his own worn out strap at his side.

If someone were to look carefully, they might see a look of relief in F'kan's blue eyes as the Smith admits to being new. "Oh right, I heard there were new crafters about. Going to be working on the Threadfall shelters right?" he asks with interest (and a little foreshadowing eerie music) He watches again as the smith recruits more people to the task. A tilt of his head finally to the lone weyrling among the group with another friendly smile, "Is this your chore for today then? You're lucky. There's a few of you tasked with giving the weyrling barracks a deep clean today," a perfect task to be taken on a rainy afternoon, and probably reserved for the worst of the troublemakers. With 92 weyrlings running around, there's a fair few to pick from.

Tzielle tosses her knife up into the air, catches the tip in between her thumb and forefinger, and holds it out to Obethan with another of those encouraging smiles. "You try it," she says, nodding toward the pile of worn-out straps. While she watches K'rev and Obethan both, her attention slides a little to F'kan as he talks. "I'm supposed to be designing the wall anchors for the project," she confirms as far as the threadfall shelters go, "But the masters here mostly have me doing apprentice classes right now." Her nose wrinkles. "I guess it's what happens when you finally walk the tables. You still get the grunt work."

Obethan takes the knife from Tzielle's outstretched hand, careful to secure it in his hand without getting cut. "Very well. Lets see how this one comes out." He says more to himself than to anyone in general. Taking one of the leather straps, he searches it carefully for the round depression that would signify the buckle. With slow presision he traces the area with his knife as he had seen previously, putting a few unintensional nicks into the leather as he cuts around the buckkle, his other hand securing the leather strap carefully during the task.
To F'kan, K'rev replies with a nod and says, "Yes sir. I'm one of the lucky ones today." Finding an appropriate moment, he holds his sorry worn strap up, and then hovers his right hand over his belt knife, still in its sheath. He raises his eyebrow questioningly to Tzielle, perhaps his way of seeking permission to try?

F'kan can't help emmiting a low whistle when Tzielle flips the knife, clearly impressed by the move. "Isn't that always how it is when you're at the bottom of the chain? I've been there…" more times than the average rider actually, but that's a story for another time surely. "Well I think it's a great idea, if they can actually get something built. Seems to be a whole lot of talking not a lot of building so far," he remarks with a casual shrug of his shoulders before looking over at K'rev, "You certainly are. Working indoors and being able to sit at the same time," F'kan is certainly teasing the young brownling.

Tzielle's bright smile takes on a jaunty clip at F'kan's whistle. "You have no idea how many times I sliced my fingers open practicing that one," she says, her voice full of self-depreciative humor. "But it looks great, right?" Her attention lands on Obethan, and she nods along. "Good first try! Wiggle that buckle off and you'll be good to try another one." To K'rev: "You want to try? We have a big pile!" Watch out, F'kan, at this rate Tzielle might gang-press you into service.

Obethan does as instructed in Riggling the buckle until it pops off the leather strap. With the buckle free of the leather he hands it over to tzielle, reaches for another leather strap to put his new aquired skill to the test. Holding the new strap as he did before he traces his knife around the buckle embedded into the strap. This time however he watches his knife hand very closely to keep from nicking the leather as he just about gets the buckle off of the strap, his eyes lighting up as he smiles softly.

nodding to Tzielle, K'rev makes for the pile, taking one of the straps, he returns to his seat. He takes out his knife and glances around the area before he starts working.

"I believe it, but well worth it if you ask me," F'kan replies with the ghost of roguish glean in his eye, but it quickly fades as he coughs to clear his throat and return to a more professional demeanor. When K'rev is put to the task, the brownrider doesn't move an inch from his casual repose against the edge of that table. Tzielle can try to press-gang him if she wants, but he doesn't look to be in the joining spirit of helping right now.
"This exercise is very good for runner tack, too. Should serve you well in case someone ever needs you to swap out something on a girth," Tzielle supplies helpfully to Obethan. If she watches K'rev, it's out the corner of her eye - she seems to have gathered the young man doesn't wish an audience for his working. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name, Herder?" she further questions Obethan, with that selfsame encouraging smile. She starts testing buckle pins to amuse herself, from the slowly aggregating pile of buckles in the center of the group's work.

Starting out, K'rev prepares the strap in his hand. He tries to make a cut but slips with the knife about a half inch. The blade skitters across the strap and turns. Looking slightly abashed, he tries again, this time he makes a slit, but again, the knife slips out of it. He looks frustrated for a second, the tendons in his arms and hands bulging, and his eyes flashing, but just as quickly as it comes, he tamps it down. He takes a deep breath, and more slowly continues. As he slides the knife into the slit he previously made, he begins to cut. It seems to be going smoothly. He traces the curve of the buckle and works his way around it. He makes one last sharp cut, which frees the buckle. He replaces his knife in its sheath and pulls the excess leather out of the buckle, holding it up with a shy smile.

Keeping a covert eye on K'rev, since he is one of this own charages, F'kan watches im slowly work, but doesn't say anything in case he breaks his concentration. In fact the brownrider falls into silence for several long moments, looking slightly lost in his thoughts. Although there may have been more going on. With a heavy sigh, F'kan pushes himself off from the edge of the table he was leaning on. "Just make sure he gets back to us in one piece huh?" he teasingly tosses Tzielle's way before turning on his heel and ambling towards the outside to once more brave the wet weather.

Obethan continues to work, taking leather strap after leather strap and slowly but surely cutting the buckles out of each one as he did the last. He hands each buckle to tzielle and softly looks to her and says. "I am called Obethan. It's a pleasure to meet you miss." he says as he continues to work carefully.

"I'll try my best," Tzielle says with a tomboy-next-door grin up at F'kan, nearly boyish in execution. Her attention reverts to K'rev, and she gives a muted cheer when he cuts his buckle loose. "Good job!" Here, YOU have a bright smile, and YOU have a bright smile, and… "Nice to meet you, Obethan. I'm Tzielle, of the Smithcraft."

Scratching a spot just underneath his right eyebrow, K'rev quietly observes the goings on.

Obethan extends a hand to tzielle to shake. "A pleasure to meet you Tzielle. I do rather enjoy this type of leather working. Its very soothing to the spirit I'd say." he smiles softly and gives a carefree nod as he resumes his work.

A smith journeyman comes down the stairs from the smith wing, scowling. He finishes his scowl over Tzielle's shoulder and says, "I'll watch your class. They need you in the forge." With a smile for everyone, she switches Obethan a knife for hers, and slips off to figure out why a bunch of old men need a young woman in the forge. They've probably dropped something behind somewhere that require nimble, little fingers. Bet.

K'rev takes another strap, this time, with a bit more of a deft touch, he frees the buckle and places it with the others.

Obethan continues his leather workking, cutting one buckle after the other and gathering it in a little pile next to him. He looks over to K'rev and nods a general greeting his way.

Taking another strap, K'rev sits it beside him, returns Obethan's greeting with a wave, then says, "Name's K'rev. I'm a weyrling here." He then continues, his knife binding up on the leather halfway through a cut. He returns his full attention to the work and finishes it, then tests his blade by running a finger along it crosswise. "By the first shell!", he gasps. I've nearly dulled the blade.

Obethan chuckles at this and looks over surprised. "OH dear. Seems you've been overusing the blade without sharpening it hmm?" he grins as he says this, his hands still carefully attentive at picking out a leather strap and harvesting the buckle out of it.

nods slowly, a frown creasing his face. He looks around the area for something to use. Spotting a large stone grinding wheel, he looks at it tentatively, but then thinks better of it. He looks around, in search of perhaps a whetstone to use?

Obethan looks over to k'rev and says, "Hmm, I'm sure if you asked one of the smithies, they would give you something. At least I would think so?"
"Bound to be something here…" K'rev says, allowing his voice to trail off. "Ah!" he exclaims, turning around with a gleam in his eye, a small whetstone in one hand and some oil in the other. He sits down, allows a few drops to flow onto the surface of the stone, then works on the blade. Sharp scraping sounds emanate from around him as he works, angling the blade in a smooth motion. He stops to check a few times, then seems satisfied. He returns the stone and the oil back to the shelf where he found it, then grabs another strap and continues.

Obethan grins amusedly and looks over. "Ah, clever." he atunes as he takes another unharvested leather strap and lets the knife bite into the strap as he again cuts the buckle out and riggles it out of its previously sewed housing. He then sets the strap aside and also checks his own blade. Finding it not too sharp but not too dull either he smiles and retrieves another strap and repeats the process.

Working steadily, divesting more and more of the worn straps of their buckles, he eventually looks around, trying to spot something. Having apparently found it, he gets up, grabs a half sheet of leather and brings it back to his station. He takes his own personal strap and removes the buckle from it. Carefully examining the buckle to make sure it is still in good order, he begins cutting leather strips out of the half sheet he found.

Having finished his last leather riding strap to harvest the buckle from, Obethan sets it aside, standing up to lean carefree like against a table, gazing around the crafting complex.

Continuing on with this new project, K'rev forms some leather cords with loops in the end. He takes them in hand, after quickly retrieving needle and thread, and cutting his old strap. He works on sewing some replacement pieces onto his gear.

Phaedra is surprised to find it's afternoon and storming. Having not felt well in the early morning, she'd gone to lie down in her dormatory for a little while and had slept the day. Being a healer, she knows when to listen to her body. It'll be back to bed soon, but she must get something to eat and stretch. Being still for so long has its drawbacks. She comes into the main area of the craft complex, klah colored eyes looking around for any activity. SHe spots a pair at work and wonders at what they're doing. She aims in that direction and heads that way, though it may take her a moment to get there.

Obethan looks over, noticing someone new arriving in the crafting complex. he waits for a few moments, still leaning against the table. Watching the new arrival make their way towards their position. "Hi there." He says in a gentle soft-spoken tone.

pausing in his work, his knife hovering near a strip of leather, he glances up to note the new arrival. A slight flash of nervousness comes across his face, and he blinks several times before schooling his expression to something a little more impassive.