Who

Madox, R'zel

What

Harper and ex-harper catch up on the latest Hall gossip. Most of it's about R'zel's mother.

When

It is early evening of the twenty-eighth day of the sixth month of the twelfth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

The Treble Clef, Southern Weyr

OOC Date 18 Nov 2017 00:00

 

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The Treble Clef

This is a place of idyll repose, a place of music, a place of soul: no liquor finds the tables of this endeavor, nor does darts nor dragonpoker. This is a place for the Harper's soul to rest, with hearty fare served to a degree of sophistication higher than the kitchens in the weyr proper, if for a price… but the draw of it is no doubt the open platform front-and-center, where a bar would likely stand. The Treble Clef does not deal in alcohol, but it does promote the artistry of amateurs and Harpers alike in the well-outfit stage for those to entertain those who stop to sup within these gently-outfitted walls.


It's the end of a long day that's been getting progressively wetter. In the Treble Clef, some of the customers are looking distinctly damp as they arrive. R'zel's quite comfortable (and dry), though, which is just as well, as he's on the platform with his instruments. He's not done a turn here for quite a while, but he's putting that right tonight, and his set has included not only the usual gitar, but a couple of numbers on the mandolin. Those went well, but he shifts back to his main instrument for the finale of his set, a piece with strong rhythms and repeating sequences that drive the music along. Perhaps surprisingly, given his other commitments, he's still improving, and he makes quite a good job of this tricky number. Then he's reclaiming his drink - as ever, he's sticking to juice in this location - and his seat at a small table.

Madox seems to attract more than his fair share of disasters, minor or major, so it's probably not surprising that he's one of those rather damp patrons trickling in. Once he finally gets out of his somewhat faulty oilskin, the smell of wet wool sweater follows with him as he attends to the most pressing of matters, finding a table and ordering a pie. The table is the tricky part, but there's one small table there with someone that looks familiar. "R'zel!" Drip drip drip on over, there's a few apologies along the way for any patrons that he might accidentally drip on in his passing. "Mind if I join you?"

"Of course not!" R'zel's still in that pleasant and self-satisfied state that comes from surviving a performance without mishap, and he greets Madox with a broad smile. "I just finished my set, so I'll have to grab my instruments in a minute, but right now I need a drink." He raises his glass to the harper, and then half-empties it. Thirsty work, playing! He scans the other man's waterproofs and not-so-waterproofs. "Still raining, then?"

"And the sky is still blue. Probably." Madox frowns slightly as he looks back over towards the door and the foul weather behind it. "I can't actually remember the last time I saw the sky without clouds anymore." So it could be purple for all he knows. But then distraction is had in the arrival of the server. Time for an order to be placed. "One ale and one meat pie… whichever." Meat type is not important as long as it gets in his face warm and soon.

R'zel orders another redfruit juice while the server's there, but this time he opts for the hot, spiced kind with lots of ginger in it. He may be thirsty, but the door opening a couple of times has wafted cold air straight at him, and he's cooling rapidly. The server departs to deal with their orders. "It was last time I looked," he confirms with a grin. "When the cloud's really low, you can sometimes fly over it. It's nice to see the sun up there. It's still cold, though."

Madox laughs a little as R'zel confirms that the sky is indeed blue. "That's good to know. So I shouldn't bother trying to rewrite some of those teaching songs…" And he start whistling an easily recognizable tune used to teach small children about colors, but just a few bars are all that's really needed and so that's all he'll provide. "Instruments…" Back to the earlier comment. "So do you ever get the mandolin finished?"

R'zel grins at the snatch of music, then says, "Hang on a moment." He sets his glass down and goes to retrieve his instruments from the platform. There's his guitar, and also the mandolin, which is indeed finished. Their cases are actually by his chair; he's apparently made this his base for the evening. Returning with one instrument in each hand, he holds out the smaller of the two to Madox. "Not only is it finished, but I've just been playing it. What do you think?"

Considering Madox is still waiting on his tea and his pie, he will definitely be hanging on. Sadly, said food still has not appeared by the time that R'zel returns, but that means there is more room for him to inspect the the instrument, which he does with careful hands, nodding at what he sees. "Went with walnut? Ol' Gedin would be pleased I think." Which appeasing that particular master could take some doing back when they were students. Inspection over, he'll hand the mandolin its owner because PIE HAS ARRIVED! Please ignore the lapse in manners as Madox digs into the steaming hot pie like a starving person. He probably should wait to let it cool off since it's actually steaming still, but he doesn't. Dig right in.

While Madox examines the mandolin, R'zel puts his gitar back in its case and resumes his seat. He's still got some cold juice left by the time the hot one arrives, but it's only half an inch in the bottom, so he tosses that back so the server can take the mug away. When Madox gives him the mandolin back, he plays a couple of phrases, just plucking the strings with his fingers, to give an idea of the tone, then puts that safely back in its padded bag. "Yes, I think he would. Though, I never had as much trouble with him as some people did. I mean, he never actually smashed anything of mine!" Which might not sound much of a recommendation, but studying with Gedin definitely had its moments! R'zel grins. "You learned what he had to teach you though, didn't you! And yes, it's part walnut; and part's a really nice close-grained fruitwood that Ilaria found for me."

Madox just barely managed to escape instrument construction with not having any of his pieces smashed. Probably explains why he never made anything more complicated than a drum. "I hear that having something smashed is a rite of passage though." Or at least that's how some of the smash victims try to console themselves. "But yes, while I shouldn't make instruments, I at least know what to look for." He nods and sets his fork down for the moment to move towards his tea. "That's the smith you mentioned before, right? Nice friends to have, smiths."

R'zel turns unaccountably pink and can't help smiling. "This smith certainly is. Also, as she's a woodsmith, I got some good advice about the choice of wood. I traded timber transport for the wood and the loan of some tools and bench space. It was a good project - I enjoyed it." And of course, the woodwork was the only attraction! He hastily picks up his mug of mulled juice.

So Madox can't just let that sudden blushing completely slide, but luckily for the rider, he only raises an eyebrow in question of that. The pie is calling his name and so any words will wait until after a few more bites of food are taken. "Trading transport for tools seems good. A lot quicker than waiting on teamsters or seacraft." Even a couple turns after his sea journey down to Southern, he still shudders a bit at the thought of that ocean trip.

The juice turns out to be too hot to drink, but attempting a sip and then blowing on it gives R'zel's blushes time to face. "Yes - it hadn't occurred to me that Vero could shift what's basically a long tree, but apparently several people have done it for them, and Vero did it as neatly as you could wish. You use special slings, and it's not really that much harder than moving - oh, something like the wagon we brought back after that volcano erupted. You saw that, didn't you?"

Madox winces slightly at the mention of the eruption. "Yeah, I saw that… I was sort of recruited to help with that." He waves a hand in the general direction of a nebulous 'that'. Eruption, refugees, murders. There was a lot to interview and write down and Madox did quite a bit of that, both at the weyr and the hold. "I'm really surprised that wagon didn't disintegrate between somehow. It was… rickety." To say the least.

R'zel gives a dry chuckle. "So was I. Ilaria and D'wane and I had to shore the thing up before we could move it, with a storm heading our way and due to arrive any moment, so it was something of a rush job. One of those things that's great to look back on, but a bit hairy at the time." He frowns, "I wish there hadn't been some kid's toys in it."

And that is how Madox goes from eating ravenously to kind of just poking halfheartedly at the last bit of his pie. So much meaty goodness left, but desire to consume it all has ran away. "Yeah… that whole thing was rough." Maybe not the most eloquent for a harper, but what more can you say about the disaster upon disasters that happened with that whole situation?

"It was rougher for the people in the village," R'zel says bitterly. "And we still don't really know who else is out there." He raises his steaming mug to his lips again, and this time it's cooled enough for him to take a sip. "And I don't think I really want to think about that tonight. How's harpering? Any news from the Hall?"

And that makes two men that really don't want to talk about that. It's a serious enough subject when it is unavoidable, definitely not something to bring up during non-working time. Madox takes a sip of his tea as he thinks for a moment. "Well, my mother got another commission recently. Some minor lord holder wanting to commemorate his fortieth wedding anniversary. And there was something about some of the apprentices getting into a bit of a prank war with the healer apprentices. At least, that was the theory…"

R'zel purses his lips and shakes his head in dramatic mock-disapproval. "A prank war! Whatever will they think of next? I'm sure /we/ never got up to anything like that!" And then grins because that's not entirely true, as Madox, who's not that much older, quite possibly knows. "Did you know my mother's put in a formal request for her Mastery? Her last letter said she got sick of them messing her about with 'one more thing' she had to do."

"I hear…" Madox leans in a little as he brings on the stage whisper. "That the true culprit might not actually be apprentices at all! Since nobody actually got caught, it could possibly be some bored journeyman…" Perhaps some of their former classmates might be the actual culprits. But he tilts his head at the last bit of news. "Really… I don't think I had heard about the formal bit, but you had mentioned her going for it."

"It's been a real carry-on," R'zel explains, lifting his mug but not drinking from it yet. "She finished that report she was doing on child development, showing how some of the ideas from her time could affect what teachers do now. They made her rewrite it with some extra bit in and something that someone didn't like taken out. Then they made her do something else to it - and I think she managed to get the first thing she had to take out back in a different way, because it's actually right, she says. And then she had to present it to…. oh, she went to half a dozen holds where there are harpers based." R'zel's becoming quite indignant on Ronica's behalf. "And then they wanted her to show her knowledge of teaching ballads, can you believe, by writing something on that, so she did that. And then there was something else. And all the while they're saying she can have the knot or do the exam or something if she just does the next bit. So she sent the Masterharper a letter setting all this out and requesting an examination with no more messing around. She hasn't got a date, but she thinks they'll have to do it."

Madox winces as R'zel starts telling the story and the expression just grows at it continues and continues. "Some of those masters… they just need to step aside." And there's a mutter about something that sounds suspiciously close to 'writhered old prunes'. "She'd probably do better addressing Varric than the Masterharper though. I hear he's been handling more and more of what has been addressed to Fenic." Age comes for everybody after all.

R'zel nods slowly as he considers Madox's advice. "Well, she'd know that, I suppose - and so would Morcom. I think she felt she had to go to the top, for form's sake. And she's got a note Fenic sent her that she quoted back to him, apparently - the one that said she could have her knot if she did this or that. Last time I saw them, Morcom said she's been working at a Master's level for years and everybody knows it." He gives a disparaging shrug. "But she's a woman and an oldtimer. She'd probably have had an easier time if she'd come here, like so many of the crafters did."

Madox shrugs and picks at the last little bit of pie. "Possibly…" He drags that one word out for a considerable amount of time. "But all masters approvals still need to go back to the main hall. There's not enough down here for a quorum. But, it helps to have everybody in the hall you're posted in supporting you." And considering how conservative some of those masters at Fort are and how many there are… that's a challenge.

"Well, I guess it's a gamble on her part, so we'll just have to see how it plays out," R'zel says, sounding rather uncertain. "I really hope she gets it, though." That spiced juice is going down very nicely. As a thought occurs to him, he takes another swig and then changes the subject. "Did you know the Benden Weyrwoman was here this morning?"

Madox nods and just lets the conversation about promotions and Harper politics just stop there for the moment. Change of subject is welcome and gets another nod. "Yes, well, didn't know it was the Benden Weyrwoman. One of my students was paying more attention to the window than the lesson and well…" He shrugs. Someone yells there is a foreign queen and then everybody rushes to the window to look.

"Yes, it was Mayte," R'zel confirms. There's a smile playing across his face, as if he's expecting his tale to amuse. "She landed in the Bowl right by where I was talking to Th'res - I ran into him on my way to dump something in the midden. So there's the visiting Weyrwoman - from Benden, no less - and there's me, holding four feet or so of dead and rather mangled tunnelsnake!"

Madox tries his best not to snicker at the story, but his best isn't good enough. A small snicker escapes. "Well, better a dead tunnel snake than a live one?" BRIGHT SIDE. He may have found it. "Cause could you imagine the scene if Benden's weyrwoman showed up and got chased around the weyr by a monster tunnelsnake?"

R'zel laughs. "I hadn't thought of that. Verokanth killed it when it got onto our ledge in the night, so this one wasn't going to be chasing anyone, but apparently Jedameth's been sweeping them off his ledge like a kid playing how-far-can-you-throw-the-miggsy!" He finishes his juice before adding, "She did ask if we had a lot of them, so I'm afraid we may not have made a good impression there."

"Southern. So welcoming, even the tunnelsnakes can't get enough of us." There you go. Madox just created Southern a new marketing slogan. But alas, as good as a catchup conversation can be, soon a golden firelizard appears above the table with a message in claws, just for the journeyman. It doesn't take long for him to scan it over and groan. "Something for Tristam. Gotta run." Payment is left, and the last of his tea is drained and then Madox makes good on that statement and runs out into the rain.

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