Who

Fr'sar, Ylisa

What

A new gitar string leads to a surprising offer.

When

Autumn of turn 30, 10th interval.

Where

Harper's Area, Ista Weyr

OOC Date 20 Apr 2021 23:00

 

fr-sar_default.jpgylisa_5.png

spacer.png

Harper's Area

The main room of the Harper's area is a fairly large room, look like, unsurprisingly, a classroom. It is big, with benches lined up for students, old or young. This room also serves as anything else the Harpers can't do in their individual rooms, or even don't want to do in their individual rooms. So there're instruments on the shelves around the room, and a large sandtable is in the corner.


There's a lot of things to be focused on right now, lots of gossip to be had and, if some of the gossip is true, some decisions to be made. Fr'sar is doing his best not to worry about it, as is his way, and instead his concerns settle on his guitar. A string has broken, and since past-him decided that procuring replacements was a problem for future-him, present-him makes his way to the harper's room. The tall, skinny brownrider ducks inside, holding the instrument gently in his arms and looking about for assistance.

Since she arrived here from the Istan Harper Hall, months ago now, this has been Ylisa's main workplace, unless she wants to work in her room. It's not usually what you'd call quiet, but around lunchtime it's free from classes and relatively free from wandering apprentices, so she takes advantage of the sandtable being free to go and write down some lyrics that have been on her mind and polish them a little. She's pursing her lips at a rhyme that eludes her when she notices the young man with the gitar, and abandons her work for now. Instead, she moves towards him. "Can I help you at all?"

Frsar responds to the greeting with one of his easy, lopsided smiles and approaches. He recognizes Ylisa, given her status, and offers a respectful nod. "If it's not too much bother for you, ma'am," he responds, and holds up the gitar with the missing string. "I didn't have any spares up in the weyr, so I was hoping someone would be kind enough to help me out.

Ylisa peers at the gitar to see which string is missing. "Oh, yes, I'm sure we've got some of those." It would be a poor bunch of harpers that couldn't supply a gitar string! "Let me find one for you." But where to look? She contemplates the shelves for a moment, before aiming for a bench with drawers and pulling a couple open. The second try seems to do the trick. She sorts through coils of gut, holding one up and focusing on it before returning to the drawer and pulling out another of a slightly different gauge. This one seems to meet with her approval and she takes it across to the rider. "There you are. You can fit it yourself?" She seems to expect an answer in the affirmative.

Disturbing a master over a single broken string does invoke a little shame, but Fr'sar tries to not let it get to him. She offered help, and he can repay her by accepting the spool of gut with a wider grin and a nod. "Yes, ma'am, my da - Nesarlin - taught me pretty well. I must've missed the lessons on keeping replacements in stock." He sets the gitar on a chair and measures out a length of material from the coil.

"Oh, you're Nesarlin's son!" A smile of recognition spreads across Ylisa's face, but her eye is drawn to the gitar, and she looks it over, taking in the workmanship, before looking back at Fr'sar's face. "I remember him from his time here. How is he doing now? Is he still at… I forget what his next posting was." She's watching as he works on the string.

"One of them!" Fr'sar replies with a laugh and cuts the string with his belt knife. He's got a half-brother who's still a weyrbrat, and a full sister who's gone off to the smith hall. "Fr'sar, Pinrulnoth's rider," he adds by way of introduction, then takes a seat and settles the guitar on his lap, setting string to bridge. "He took a posting in Lemos, near his parents' cothold. I visited a few months back…he likes your new compositions, master."

"Well met, Fr'sar, and my compliments to your Pinrulnoth." He appears to know who Ylisa is, so she doesn't give a name in return. "And that's good to hear, though I don't seem to be producing a lot at the moment. Is he well?" She's standing in an upright posture, though perhaps leaning forward a little as she watches the new string being fitted. "If you don't mind me asking, do you know whose workmanship your gitar is?"

He glances up and nod acknowledgement, passing the greeting to Pin's drowsy twlight. The string settles against frets and then gets wound around a peg. "He's doing alright, has a crop of little ones to pass the teaching ballads to. I think he misses being away from a Weyr, though." His father had trasnfered while he was still a weyrling, and each visit sees the harper more interested in the dragon than the rider. "As for this, it was a gift from Da, back when he thought he'd make a harper of me. Not sure who made it."

"It's certainly an interesting place to live. And having the dragons so close is- well, it's a new experience, and I'm enjoying it." Ylisa seens to share Nesarlin's fascination for them, but she's also curious about the instrument. "Perhaps I might have a look, when you've finished? I may be able to tell you who made it: it has a familiar look to it."

"Well, I'm glad you're enjoying your stay, even if it's…not planned." Lots of things are done under duress these days. He finishes fastening the string, tries an experimental strum, and winces at the discordant note. "Ugh, that needs some tuning." Ah yes, his old nemesis: needing to put effort into something. Fr'sar glances up with a pleading look and offers the gitar. "I think an expert's ear might be needed. And you can look it over all you like."

Ylisa chuckles at that, and quickly gives the tuning peg a couple more twists before plucking a pair of strings several times as she makes the fine adjustments. "That's all right, but it will go flat, of course." She fingers a few arpeggios, then holds up the instrument to look at the harper stamp by the neck. After that, she sits down on a bench before peering into the sound hole and examining the rosette. "I don't think Master Edsel made this, but there was a Senior Journeyman who worked with him for a while, who used to do those little flowers on the neck." She crosses her legs and slips the gitar into playing position. "May I?"

"Of course," he echos, and watches the master work. It's a pleasant experience, and his folds his hands like a student as she tunes and examines. When she offers to play he sits up a little straighter and grins, delighted at the idea of his little gitar getting her caring attention. "You certainly may, it'd be an honor."

Ylisa smiles, amused. "I can't promise to get very far, with a new string." But she tries, at least. She chooses a pretty little piece that speaks of spring sunshine and returning life, with a rhythm based on cheerful triplets. She's about a minute in when that new string becomes noticeably flat, which rather sours the experience, but she continues until the end, then quickly re-tunes the instrument before holding it out to its owner. "Not bad at all. Casten, was the name of the maker. He didn't stay at Ista long, though: he went back to Fort and then I think to Tillek, for some reason.."

The tune is appreciated, and Fr'sar manages to look more carefree than usual, shoulders relaxing as his fingers tap out a rhythm against his thigh. He perks up at the new information regarding the maker and files it away; Pin may be interested later. "Thank you, it's nice to know that." He takes the gitar back with new reverence. "I'll make sure to take better care of it, wherever it ends up."

Ylisa's eyebrows lift in question as she uncrosses her legs and sets her long skirt straight: it's not really a very practical garment. "Are you taking it somewhere? You aren't thinking of getting rid of it, surely. It has a lot of life left in it yet. Or are you looking for something a bit different?"

That line of questioning brings him up against a quiet debate he's been having with his dragon: where is he going? For his own part Fr'sar hadn't thought he'd be going anywhere, but recent events… "Nah, no, it'll stay with me no matter what. It's just, well. With Linny here, I'm wondering, a little. If I made the right choice, to stay here and not. You know. You do know, yeah?" Because it'll be embarrassing if she doesn't.

"And not go forward in time?" There's a long pause before Ylisa says carefully, "Yes, I do know. It was a difficult decision for many who were given the opportunity. I made the same choice as you, but… But goldrider Linny… I had heard something, yes." But not nearly as much as she'd like to hear, no doubt! "I wonder what her plans are."

And there it is, stark and unavoidable. Even thought the notion, of jumping ahead centuries, of facing Thread, on some level terrifies him…the goldrider's presence means it's possible. It can be done, it can be survived, and there may still be a need for them. He strums an unsure tune, lacking confidence. "Me too. If she does go back- forward, and if she's willing, I might tag along now."

Ylisa gives a faint chuckle at that. "If you do, remind me to give you a couple of songs to take with you. Ones that weren't allowed to get into the repertoire - or the archives - because they might survive into the future. It would be nice to think they could be heard somewhere, even after all that time!" When she finishes speaking, though, she looks very thoughtful, and perhaps a little sad.

"I'll be certain to do that, Master Ylisa," Fr'sar replies, offering her a wink as he gets to his feet. A notion strikes him, and he pauses a moment. "Or…I could bring the source, instead of just the songs." Is he really suggesting taking her along, if the option was there? Yes, yes he is. This is all speculation, after all. "I'm not the most reliable messenger, you see."

That offer seems to take Ylisa by complete surprise. Her mouth opens and she blinks. "You would take me with you?" After a pause, she says, "That's a remarkably kind offer. And… one that I won't dismiss without giving it serious consideration. Thank you." Then, with a faint smile and in a lighter tone, "I should warn you that I'd probably want to travel with a gitar, four firelizards and several crates of manuscripts." The firelizards are in fact scattered about the room, being remarkably well-behaved, for once.

It's an impulsive offer, because that's how he is, but it's also sincere. He's felt himself fall into a reflexive routine in the Comet's aftermath, and maybe, just maybe, the change can do some good. Ylisa's warning gets a laugh and a little dismissive wave. "Pin's a big ol' brute, he can handle a few crates, and I've no prolem with fire lizards." He hasn't any of his own, which is maybe a criminal oversight, but still. "Should the time come, we'll be glad to carry you."

Ylisa smiles. "Well, we'll have to see what the goldrider is planning - both of us. But if the chance comes - well, let's just say that staying behind hasn't worked out for me quite as I expected." She glances round the room with a quirky half-smile. "Starting with being here rather than at the Hall. I'm beginning to wonder whether they're ever going to finish repairing the place." If there are deeper reasons, she keeps them to herself for now. "Thank you. I will certainly give it some thought." If she had more to say, it will have to wait, because children start running into the room ready for their afternoon lesson. Fortunately, she isn't the teacher. "But I think there's going to be much singing of ballads in here in the very near future. It was good to talk to you, Fr'sar, but I'd better go back to my room, now, and try to do some more work."

"Heard and understood." And related to, given the wry twist of Fr'sar's smile. As the children filter in the rider moves to the side, making sure to shield his gitar as much as possible from accidental contact. He looks to catch Ylisa's eye and nods. "Hopefully we'll get to talk more soon, ma'am. Thank you for your time!"

"Thank you, too," Ylisa says, and goes off to smooth over the sandtable before she leaves. She's still looking distinctly pensive.

Add a New Comment