Harper's Hope

[Seraph]

((OOC - Yes, it does seem I'm making a theme for my thread titles XD Consdider this an open thread for anyone to pop in, wander through, and generally make use of, though I was aiming for a place for folk to use the newly Impressed out of a Weyrling lesson....as well as some character development on my part. As for time period, we can assume it's after the new dragonets have eaten themselves into oblivious sleep, unless you want it otherwise.))



It was always warm in the Kitchen Caverns, though from the reactions folk gave the dragon-harper, one would have to surmise the warth came only from the fires and not the regards of the women who made this their domain. The old saying 'Never let a Harper near the food', seemed less of a joke here and more of a sacred rule. Though, for her part, Maurisa fully understood and was willing to co-operate fully - she didn't want another hearth fire on her conscience...or her wallet.

Under the narrowed gazes of the weyrfolk tending the hearths, the Weyrsinger held up her hands in a gesture of surrender, gitar held in one hand, and moved, with exagerated motions of care and reverence, to a seat on the bench furthest from any cooking related activity.
Only after she had sat down and nothing spontaneously combusted did activity resume, flowing and ebbing around the Harper.
That was silly of them. You can't set things on fire just by being near them - you can't even chew firestone!
Maurisa held her reply off for a while - a girl had rushed up, set a basket of rolls, a mug, and a pitcher of klah before her, before rushng off again, back to the safety of the other weyrfolk.
Grinning wryly, with a mock-dramatic sigh, Maurisa picked up a roll and bit into it, chewing thoughtfully. That was one of many good things about being Zirith's rider - she could 'talk' and eat.
Well, I am still somewhat...unlucky, around anything relating to the culinary arts. It was before we Impressed, but I managed to cause such a blaze, just trying to cook the most simple dish. As well as that superstition around Harpers and food, well...I have no chance.
She heard Zirith's indignant snort on the behaf of her rider, even though her weyr was half the Bowl away. Unless...
Zirrie....where are you?
I'm sat on the ledge of the weyr nearest the Lower Cavern entrances. No-one's using it. She added a mental 'shrug'. I moved down here when you mentioned there being a fire when you got near food. If you're going to cause mayhem, it's only fair we get into - and out of it - together.
Maurisa heaved a sigh, and poured herself some klah, which didn't burn, and took a long drink.

After she had eaten - she had skipped breakfast in her haste to get to the Hatching before all the Dragonets had broken their shells and Impressed - Maurisa sat for a while, thinking, gitar in her hands, a nonsense song being coaxed from the strings. Playing music helped her to think, and eased jangled nerves. Even some of the cooks forgot their superstitous 'fear' of her and smiled as they went about their chores.
The Hatching had gone well - despite the oddly coloured Dragonets, whom had Impressed well, and none seemed deformed. She fancied they were, what was the correct term? The next step? A new breed? No, they were Dragons for sure, so maybe just a development? After all, there had been a White, many Turns ago, a legend of the ballads in his own right.
And a new Queen, too. Rheath and Her's will do well for the Weyr. Zirith offered voluntarily, less charitably, she said; I am glad the Gold did not go to Kiara. The Weyr would have suffered. If that had happened, I think I would have asked you to cook for them.
Maurisa's hands fouled the note, the discordent twang echoing in the sudden silence. She wasn't sure what shocked her more - such condemnation from the Green, or the plotting. Slowly, she started playing again, trying to regain her composure.
Well, Rheath chose Caroline, and Skadith has chosen Kiara. Besides, she continued in a minor rebuke, to which Zirith snorted. if Rheath had chosen Kiara, then we would have done our best to work with them. Even though we might have had to go on longer flights out of the Weyr on occasion., she ended, ruefully.
Zirith let that one go with a shrug of one shoulder, even as she re-settled on her borrowed perch, eyes spinning green and blue as she looked out over the Weyr Bowl.
And the Harper boy Impressed Astaath. she said, smugly. Maurisa shook her head at her Dragon's tone.
Are you saying I should retire as Weyrsinger, Zirrie? she teased. The Green huffed and rolled her eyes.
Of course not! Just maybe train him to take on some of your classes.
So we can spend more time exploring? she replied with a knowing tone.
What a grand suggestion!
The Harper sighed ruefully and shrugged, before she continued playing. Sometimes, she was surprised at how devious Zirith could be, and then she realised that the Green had had the best teacher - her rider!

[Spiffy]

(OOC: I'm not stealing all your threads I swear!)

K'mir gazed down at his sleeping dragonet in wonder. For once in his life, he felt at peace. No thoughts plagued him, no songs ran through his mind, no-one was telling him what to do. There was just him and Astaath. And he was happy with that.

He wasn't the only Weyrling lingering by the dragon beds. But as the Weyrlingmaster came around to herd them all off and leave their dragonets in peace. Being brought back to reality, he felt a moment of internal conflict, his personal needs warring with his new protectiveness of Astaath. Of all the times he could have become a Weyrling, this was probably the worst. Though he knew that he'd yet to make up his mind about the basilisks, they were there at the back of his mind, the threat hanging there, ominous and silent. What is they came after Astaath?

He jumped as one of the Weyrfolk put a hand on his shoulder, gently coaxing him toward the door where others were being ushered. "Off you go, we'll look after them. They'll be here when you get back." Resigning himself to that, and giving the woman a look that clearly said 'on your head be it' he followed the rest of the Weyrlings out of the sands and into the cool of the lower caverns. He shivered involuntarily, the sudden drop in temperature taking him by surprise as he wrapped his arms around his waste in an effort to contain some more heat. As he did so his stomach rumbled. It seemed he was destined for the Kitchens then.

He ducked into the dining cavern, much more reluctantly that he would have normally. But thankfully he wasn't the first Weyrling to do so, so he avoided much of the more enthusiastic congratulations. Most, when the hatching concluded, had retired to the warm hearths of the Dining Cavern and now as K'mir approached many were beginning to again filter out. As he slipped up to the serving counter he received a few claps on the shoulder and words of congratulations, many from Weyrfolk and riders he didn't know. But they obviously knew him, if only from the hatching that they'd so recently observed.

Piling up a plate with whatever was leftover and pouring himself a mug of klah he glanced around for a place to sit. Many tables were full, others not so, but they often contained people that he'd rather stay away from, even at he best of times. His attention was drawn by a discordant note from the far side, to the owner of the gitar. The Weyrsinger (Maurisa wasn't it?) sitting, facing away from him. He thought back to the last time he'd seen her, when she'd helped him back to the barracks not a sevenday before. An embarrassing occasion for himself, but one that shouldn't go without thanks. She had gone out of her way for him, after all.

By the time he'd wound his way through the maze of tables, chairs and revellers, Risa had moved on to a different tune. He smiled, recognising the intro all too well.

"A heart that's true in harper blue
Makes song from heart's own fire,
And though betrayed, is not afraid:
In danger..." he said, not quite singing but neither quite simply talking the words as he passed her, taking the seat opposite.

"... Leaps up higher," he concluded with a grin, setting down his plate as he took a gulp of klah, frowning when he discovered that it was luke warm.

[Seraph]

((OOC - ^^ It's fine! You can steal any of my threads and keep 'em for as long as you can put up with Zirith. XP ))


This is nice, she thought to Zirith. The dragon agreed, without needing any further explanation - the Harper loved to be in the midst of a throng of people, as part of it, or just within it. Being surrounded by folk reminded her of the bustle of the Harper Hall, where there was never a still moment. Being Weyrsinger was not so different from being 'just' a Harper - instead of entertaining Holders and teaching their children, she sang for Dragonmen and Weyrfolk, and taught the weyr's children, who in turn could potentially be the next generation of Dragonriders.
Added to those duties, which she enjoyed so much they could barely be termed 'work' she had the constant companionship of the most wonderful dragon. Watching the Hatching had reminded her of her own Impression, and served to reinforce that life-long bond with Zirith. She strummed a tune, even as a smile cruved her lips.
I remember when you broke your shell. I was stoof there, overawed by the whole thing, and already composing a tune about it.
Zirith rumbled gently, before she spoke.
I could hear the song you had in mind. I knew, once I heard it, that you were Mine.
Maurisa chuckled lightly to herself. They had this conversation after every Hatching, but neither truly tired of it. She replied with her usual answer.
And you proved that by shouldering into my shins, knocking me down, and then licking my face.
Zirith allowed her tone to be coloured with a prim sense of composure, though her rider was sure the green was laughing.
Well, I had to make sure you heard me over that song you were thinking up. It seemed the best way to go about it.
Well, it certainly worked! Did you see the faces on the Weyrleaders? I was sure they thought you were trying to eat me.
Zirith sniffed, with a sense of wounded dignity.
I would NOT eat Mine. Not after I worked so hard to hatch.
Maurisa sent her green a soothing touch, though she was amused at Zirith's tone.
Well, I'm glad you hatched for me, Zirrie. I still have to write that song I thought up on the Hatching Grounds, though...
Will you sing it for me?
Of course!

There were a few of the new Weyrlings milling around with the crowd now, their dragonets having eaten their fill and now sleeping. Maurisa could tell who they were, even if she hadn't met them before - they all walked with a dreamy expression on their face, a look of pride and wonder, and the Weyrsinger grinned as she recalled that time of her life. One never really became inured to the simply amazing fact that a Dragon would want to become life-mates with you, and you alone. Whenever a Weyrling came by, she offered them a warm smile, and a sincere congratulations, mentally fixing their names and their new dragonets in her mind. As she did, she couldn't help but notice there were so few compared to other Hatchings, but, she schooled her thoughts, there had been a Hatching, they had new Weyrlings, and they had a new Queen. There was hope for SkyLine, and she would hold fast to that hope, no matter what.

Zirith looked down from her perch, laying upon the smooth ledge, wings tucked to her sides, tail coiled around her body. She idily mused if the Weyrlingmaster would allow her to, ah, supervise the Weyrling classes. She was getting somewhat bored laying about the Weyr all day, and since the Basilisk attack, Hers had not been too keen on leaving SkyLine for any length of time. Zirith understood that, but she still wanted something to occupy her. Maybe she'd ask Hers to intervene for her...

Maurisa moved onto a new song, one she knew so well she barely had to think about stringing it from the gitar, barely had to command her voice to match the notes, her breathing falling into the correct pattern automatically.
She was surprised, however, when a voice joined hers, but not shocked enough to drop out of tune, or miss a note, her fingers never missing a chord. Easily matching her voice to, and she remembered the honourific shortening of the name, K'mir's, who did not sing, nor talk, but something between the two. Maurisa, finding she couldn't grin at him and sing, settled for a wink. He sat opposite her, and, when the song was over, took a drink of his klah, though by the face he pulled, she guessed it was cold.

Pushing the klah pitcher towards him, she grinned. The cooks had constantly refreshed her supply of the beverage as she had played, kind of a trade-off between the two parties.
"So, congratulations! I expect you're heartily sick of hearing that, but be glad you're across the table so I can't clap you on the shoulder!" her eyes twinkled with humour. "It's good to know they still teach that song, always been one of my favourites."

((OOC - meh...sorry for kinda naff post.))

[Spiffy]

He grinned back as she pushed the klah pitcher toward him, noticing the thin haze of steam rising out of the top. Ah good, it was still hot. He was about to reach for the pitcher when he realised that he had no mug to pour the new klah into - his one was full of cold stuff. He cast around for something else to put it in, eyes wandering to the drain set into the floor two tables away. It's purpose was to drain away anything any revellers spilled, but a whole mug of klah may prove a bit much for it. Besides, he'd have to get up to so, and the action would probably earn him several looks of disapproval.

He settled for the empty mug on the table behind him.

Retrieving the abandoned mug, he tipped the contents of his own mug into it before replacing it on the table behind him, filling his now empty mug with new, hot klah. He took a gulp. Ahh, much better. He caught Maurisa's eye as he did so, raising his mug to her in thanks before putting it back down.

"So, congratulations! I expect you're heartily sick of hearing that, but be glad you're across the table so I can't clap you on the shoulder! It's good to know they still teach that song, always been one of my favourites."

He chuckled, grimacing slightly at the thought of the claps on the shoulder he'd already endured. "They played that at the acceptance ceremony when I first became an Apprentice. Even if we weren't taught how to play it for several turns, most if us knew the lyrics by then anyway. I can't play it very well, though," he added with a shrug. "Instruments never were my strong point." He stabbed a chunk of tuber, chewing on it thoughtfully. Maybe, if he'd not been searched, he'd lived on in the Hall long enough to correct that weakness. But as it was he'd not been back, and so had not had the opportunity. Singing was easy, it didn't require anything, but practising playing was a little difficult when you didn't have anything to play and were without the knowledge or materials to make one for yourself.

[Seraph]

((OOC - this might suck more than usual - people keep demanding my attention at unopertune moments. O,o ))


K'mir saluted her with his mug of now freshened klah, and Maurisa tipped her head in reply, hoping that the owner of the surrogate mug did not mind the use to which it had been yoked. It would be rather a shock to find the mug you left empty now filled with the cold dregs of klah. She knew she'd be somewhat affronted by the audcaity of a drinking vessel if it behaved in such a fashion, and for this reason, she was glad Zirith was too large to meddle with klah mugs or pitchers.
Sadly, though, she wasn't too large to mess with sleeping furs. The last time she played that trick, the Weyrsinger's furs had ended up on the ledge of one of the highest, dis-used, weyrs. The dragon had been in high spirits, not so much her rider.
She had gotten her furs back, but only after hours of searching, Zirith refusing to tell her where they were.
She shook her head, and sipped more klah.
Hard to believe Zirith had twelve Turns from the egg, but, then again, at least the green kept the singer on her toes.

Sometime, a weyrfolk had placed a plate of food before her. She blinked, somewhat amazed at how it had appeared without her notice, but then rationalised it was probably a child who had brought it, and had gone swiftly about their task before leaving. She set her gitar on the bench beside her, and took up her fork. Those rolls had lasted her only so long - and despite being sat down, harpering was hungry work. The food was good, as always, and hot, which was a bonus.
Zirith, are you hungry?
She received a negative reply, conveyed more through a mental flick of the tail than words - it seemed the green was fixated on watching some folk cross the bowl.

"Well," she said, after clearing her mouth after a bite, "if you wanted to learn more with instuments, I would be happy to help you. I'm best with the gitar, mind." She forked up another mouthful, chewed, and swalloed before adding, thoughtfully, "Though perhaps any lessons would have to wait untill Astaath matures." she added with kindly humour.

[Spiffy]

K'mir's attention returned to the world when a young weyrbrat appeared, carrying a plate of food similar to his own. He looked up at Risa, but her attention was still elsewhere, completely missing the kid. He smiled and nodded his thanks for her instead, as the girl turned to return to the kitchens. He waited for Risa to notice, and was rewarded with a surprised blink from the Weyrsinger.

He continued to eat his own as she picked up her fork and started, laying her gitar aside. Without the pleasant tumble of notes the diningcavern seemed eerily silent, the buzz and hum of voices soon taking over.

"Well, if you wanted to learn more with instuments, I would be happy to help you. I'm best with the gitar, mind."

He tried his best not to choke on the slice of wherry he'd been about to swallow. The Weyrsinger, teach him? But...

"Though perhaps any lessons would have to wait untill Astaath matures."

He swallowed the wherry, clearing his throat afterwards as he looked blankly up at the Weyrsinger. Then his shoulders sagged even as a grin stretched his mouth.

"Yes, young dragonets. I take it there's a good reason why Weyrlings always look haggered at first?" he asked the greenrider, though she really didn't need to answer that one. It was well known in Weyrs that early Weyrlinghood was hard work. But even so, he couldn't believe his luck. The Weyrsinger was offering to teach him! But Astaath wouldn't mature for two turns yet...

"I'd love to," he said simply, looking up at Risa and smiling. And for once, it was a genuine smile.

(OOC: blergpost :/)

[Seraph]

The tide of voices ebbed and flowed around her, just the general chatter that a group of folk would generate, maybe with more exuberance than usual, but with a undertone of concern for the unhatched eggs, along with the odd coloured hatchlings. If she focused on one voice, then she could home in on that speaker and their words, but by the same effect, if she paid no attention to any one speaker, the voices became one mass. As a Harper, she had been trained to listen as well as speak, to gauge the mood of the people she had been posted with. Though a Dragonrider, she was Harper still, and she listened even as she spoke with K'mir.
She decided to blame not noticing the weyrchild on her listening, well, that and Zirith being uncharacteristically silent. Her face took on an abstracted look of a rider speaking with their dragon, pausing in her meal.
Zirith...What are you plotting?
She got a feeling of the green suddenly sitting up straighter, and looking around, her eyes whirling slightly.
Nothing!
Nothing? Maurisa's tone was frankly skeptical, even as she chewed another mouthful, looking around the dining cavern. Were there less children around, or was it just her...?

Zirith rustled her wings, marching across the packed dirt of the Bowl towards the knot of children hustling from the entrance to the Lower Caverns. The green's eyes were whirling happily with green and blue as the kids from Hers' class gleefully petted her legs where she stood. It had been a treat for those that behaved to be allowed to pet the Weyrsinger's dragon, ensuring that the children did their best in hopes of earning such an honour. It also worked that Zirith had to behave, too, if she wanted to play with the children. But now that Hers was busy talking and eating, Zirith could get all the free petting and scratches she could wrangle from the obliging children. None of them scratched her eye ridges as well as her rider, but they were so happy to just be near her, that she decided not to tell them that.

Maurisa couldn't help but smile back, this time with anticipation - it would be great to have another gitarist, and besides, he looked so genuinely pleased at her offer that she couldn't anything but return the expression. She chuckled lightly with memory of Zirith as a dragonet, and all the mischief she had caused, the least of which was an unscheduled swim in the lake.
"It's tiring, but you never mind the work. It's well worth it! I just hope Astaath behaves more than Zirith did when she was young."
She ate some more, before her food got cold. Sometimes she got so caught up in her thoughts, that klah and food would go cold and unnoticed in front of her, untill either a weyrfolk reminded her about it, or, when in her weyr, Zirith did.

"It would be my pleasure to teach you. If we can find the materials, and the time, I can teach you how to make your own gitar, too, if you wish. I have been meaning to make another, ever since I moved West." She had had to choose between her own gitar, or the one her father had gifted to her - so she had chosen the gifted one, but it was dear to her, and so she wanted to make one that could easily stand the trials of Weyrsinger-hood. If that was even a word.

((OOC - sorry for the random Zirith related chunk there. XD I always thought the dragons should get some action in the books. Also, if any of this fails, blame my brain XD It won't mind))

[Spiffy]

"It's tiring, but you never mind the work. It's well worth it! I just hope Astaath behaves more than Zirith did when she was young."

That's what they all say he thought. Get a rider talking about their dragon and you'd be there for hours. Even those riders who were usually antisocial and uncommunicative would talk about their dragons.

He thought back to the hatching and feeding, to the short time that he'd been bonded with Astaath and everything the little dragonet had said to him. But I want to fly, not eat!... Ok, maybe I do need food... but then you must teach me to fly! he'd said.

"Somehow..." he started, thinking over what the Weyrlingmaster had said to them in the lesson, "I don't think he will. I may have trouble convincing him that he shouldn't be throwing himself of off the ledges just yet, though. He really wants to fly," he added, belatedly realising how that may have sounded.

"It would be my pleasure to teach you. If we can find the materials, and the time, I can teach you how to make your own gitar, too, if you wish. I have been meaning to make another, ever since I moved West."

K'mir almost shook his head in disbelief. This just gets better and better, he wondered absently.

"What's the catch?" he asked. There must be a catch. There always was one.

[Seraph]

Maurisa pursed her lips as she regarded what she had left on her plate - tubers. Not something she was typically overly fond of on the best of days, though she could choke a bite or two down if pressed, either by the social situation or the glower of the woman who had cooked said tuber. Neither situation was upon her now, so she felt secure in just pushing her plate aside, giving the tubers a somewhat victorious glance. Ha! I don't have to do battle with you today! she thought to herself, realising it was rather silly of her to be thinking at food, but unable to stop herself all the same. She hadn't kept that thought to herself as she heard Zirith reply, sounding somewhat muffled.
Are you 'talking' to food again, Mine? What you eat doesn't have ears, so why bother?
Becasue, well, it was more of a irelevant observation, Zirrie...Zirith, why do you sound muffled?
She got an impression of the green blinking a couple of times, looking abashed, with her long neck laid out along the ground, her head resting on the hard dirt of the Bowl floor.
Because....I have a child sprawled over my nose? The dragon started off hesitantly, and then finished in a rush.
Maurisa's eyes widened, and she half turned towards the entrance to the dining cavern.
So THAT'S where the children went...
Zirith...!
They're fine! We're behaving! We're just sat here, outside the Lower Caverns. They aren't too far from their parents.
Maurisa sighed, and tried to catch the attention of a passing weyrfolk. Once she had their focus, she explained to them where the children were, and who they were with. The woman seemed to reagrd this as no new news - Zirith tended to do this at least once a sevenday, and only the children too young to be helpful in any chores ended up with her.
Still, the Weyrsinger apologised, which the woman shook off with a smile and a shrug before going about her duties again.

With a slight shrug, she turned back to K'mir, and chuckled slightly at her green's whims, though Zirith had done this for as long as they had been West.
"Zirith," she explained, "often likes to play with the children. And so I end up informing the weyrfolk that whoever was minding them has passed their charges to Zirith."
Well, she didn't know what he would make of that, but she was grateful her dragon liked the children so much - it made teaching them so much easier on her rider.

K'mir spoke of his Astaath's wishes to fly, even so soon hatched, and Maurisa gave him a sympathetic grin.
"Well, distract him with food, oiling, and the suggestion of a nap." she said, with a tone that carried humour and no hint of condensation - just advice from one rider to another. "That might work, for a while, at least."
It hadn't worked too well with Zirith, but then, not everyone got partnered with a nosy, chatty, green.

She was taken aback for a while when he asked what the catch was for her helping him make a gitar. She finally managed to answer, with her arms held wide.
"The catch? Why, nothing! I mean, once you can play gitar, and you have your own, I might occassionaly ask for help teaching the children, but there's no obligation. I know that teaching is not for everyone, so don't feel compelled to do so." She took a sip of klah, which was cold, but luckily she didn't spit it out on reflex. Now, what had happened that he expected a catch...?
"We're both from the same craft, and I've found that by teaching others, you learn more yourself." she added, thinking he might need more convincing about the lack of a catch.

((OOC - sorry for somewhat all over the place post. ))

[Spiffy]

He watched Risa's facial expressions change with humour and more than a slight confusion, Obviously something was happening that he was not privy to, and that probably meant it was something to do with the dragons, or her own in particular. But he soon got an explanation. Briefly he wondered if he would have the same troubles keeping Astaath out of other people's hair. He didn't know the dragonet very well yet, and he was asleep now so he couldn't ask, but that little part of his brain that was now inescapably connected to the little brown gave him doubt that he wouldn't. Maybe his dragonet would cause him more grief than others, but that didn't mean that others wouldn't get it too. He just hoped that the Weyrfolk had enough tolerance of the dragons by now to overlook it.

"Well, distract him with food, oiling, and the suggestion of a nap. That might work, for a while, at least."

He grinned back, though this time it didn't reach his ears. "Thanks for the tip; I'll give it a try when he wakes up."

"The catch? Why, nothing! I mean, once you can play gitar, and you have your own, I might occassionaly ask for help teaching the children, but there's no obligation. I know that teaching is not for everyone, so don't feel compelled to do so. We're both from the same craft, and I've found that by teaching others, you learn more yourself."

He nodded, mollified, if not 100% convinced. "Teaching... I've not done much of that before. Not really done any before." He paused, drumming his fingers together as he leaned on the table with his elbows. "But, if it gets me my own guitar and someone to teach me how to use it, then I'll certainly give it a go."

(OOC: ahhh, I got distracted half way through and then my muse ran dry Dx)

[Seraph]

((OOC - Sorry for the late reply, my laptop was being abducted by siblings))


Maurisa looked around the dining cavern, noticing there were still a few of the new weyrlings milling about, being recieved with no less enthusiasm than before. Well, the Weyr had needed this Hatching, to both boost morale, and safeguard the future, though what weyrlings could do against any Basilisks that might come was beyond her. Resolutely, she squashed that thought down. There was nothing to say that the Basilisks would storm the Weyr- for all she knew, they had stumbled upon their territory before the attack, and that was what had sparked off hostilities. Not any malevolence on their part...but they had killed and hurt so many! Without even a warning! But there were a couple of Basilisks and their, well, riders, were in the Weyr, and they seemed, well, she didn't rightly know. SHe had avoided them, but she couldn't shake her fear, and yes, distrust of them. This train of thought was useless, she scolded herself. The past is the past, and nothing can change it. We have weyrlings now, and a Queen among them...which brought a new problem to her mind, one she pounced upon to distract herself from Basilisk-musings.
Who would train the new Gold-rider? Traditionally, it was the Weyrwoman who trained all junior Weyrwomen, but Valora was in no condition to do so. She bit her lip as she mulled this over, her thoughts going round in circled, untill Zirith broke into her thoughts.
This will get you no-where. Rheath's rider is sensible, she will do well by the Weyr.
I know, but still...
You worry because you care. Do not stop caring, but...try and trust them.
That was thoughtful! She said, gratefully, though somewhat surprised at Zirith's sudden burst of deep thought.
The green huffed a draconic laugh.
I am the dragon of a Harper - it is to be expected that sometimes I stumble upon a nugget of wisdom.
Just don't get into mischief with it.
Then why bother finding it?

The children came pouring back into the Dining Cavern - evidentally some of them had started to fall asleep as they sprawled on Zirith, and the green had nosed them back into the warmer cavern before the dragon lifted back to her borrowed perch, where she curled up to watch the goings on.
For their part, the kids were full of stories about the games they had played with the green, all giggling and enthusiastic, before they were herded back to a back room that had been set aside as a play area for them. Maurisa hid a grin. No doubt they would all tell her their stories next time she taught them. They did so every sevenday, but it made the lessons go by much more cheerfully. Besides, it kept Zirith occupied.
Just so long as she didn't try to give swimming lessons to anyone but her rider.

Grateful that the whole escapade had lasted only a few minutes, so her answer was not unduly delayed, the greenrider gave a small shrug.
"Well, having someone else to help would only make it easier on me, though in truth the children are very well behaved, considering some of the horror stories others told me at the Hall. The kids know most of their teaching ballads, and their duty ballads. We will soon be working on their letters and numbers." She pulled a face in memory. "And that will be a task - there's nothing that garantees mess quite like children and ink. Or even charcoal." she added, with a slight sigh. Zirith chirped from her ledge, and lidded her eyes, feinging sleep. "Not to mention a certain dragon who wanted to learn to draw." She cut a glance to the entrance, with a resigned look.
"But enough of that. Seeing as how Astaath is asleep, we can start some basic gitar lessons now, if you want to, that is." She added with a slight grin, betting she knew the answer already.

[Spiffy]

His attention was drawn momentarily by the sudden influx of children into the dining cavern. They all seemed happy about something, bubbling with laughter and stories to the weyrfolk who appeared to round them up into the corner.

"Well, having someone else to help would only make it easier on me, though in truth the children are very well behaved, considering some of the horror stories others told me at the Hall. The kids know most of their teaching ballads, and their duty ballads. We will soon be working on their letters and numbers. And that will be a task - there's nothing that garantees mess quite like children and ink. Or even charcoal. Not to mention a certain dragon who wanted to learn to draw."

"Well, each to their own," he said, assuming that the dragon Risa was referring to was Zirith. He paused, remembering something in what she'd said. "Have you not tried using those writing sticks, yet? The ones where the charcoal is covered in wood. They're a lot less messy than inks or charcoal sticks, though I'm not sure how expensive they'd be - I wonder is anyone in the West knows how to make them," he tailed off.

"Well, I know my numbers well, and my writing, though I can't promise that what I teach them will be neat," he said with a chuckle, reaching for his klah.

"But enough of that. Seeing as how Astaath is asleep, we can start some basic gitar lessons now, if you want to, that is."

For the second time in a candlemark he spluttered on his klah. "Now!?" he asked incredulously, with more than a hint of scepticism. "Here?"

[Seraph]

Maurisa pulled her attention back from where it had wondered, and forced it to the task of contemplating this new idea K'mir had put forward regarding the new kind of stylus. She pursed her lips as she mulled this over, tapping her chin with one finger as she mused. Finally, she gave a small shake of her head, and smiled ruefully.
"A good idea, but I wouldn't want to hand something so potentially expensive to such enthusiastic scrawlers. Maybe once they learn how to write on the paper and not themselves or their surroundings, then I can track down some of these new writing tools. For now, though, we'll have to suffer."
She tilted her head slightly, before speaking again.
"Well, your writing can't be as bad as Zirith's." she joked. She doubted anyone could match the green for enthusiasm, but anyone could beat her on legibility.

Maurisa cocked an eyebrow at the note of sceptisim in his voice, even as she fought back a chuckle at his near-splutter. Did he really think she'd offer to teach and never actually do so? The mere notion of doing such a thing had never crossed her mind; she prided herself on always doing something she had given her word on. Well, she hadn't actually sworn to teach K'mir, but she had near enough promised, and that was good enough for her. Then another notion for his response came to her, and she smoothed her expression back into her usual smile.
"Well, if you would rather begin when Astaath has matured, so you can learn it all at once, that is fine. Don't worry - I won't forget or back out of it if you say you would rather wait."


((OOC - I stop playing here for a couple days and loose my muse. >.< Sorry!))

[Spiffy]

She looked utterly serious as she gave her reply, whether or not she had been joking only a moment before about her dragon's writing. That alone had confused him. A dragon, writing? He'd never thought that dragons were even interested in writing, let alone capable. But he had more immediate things to think on than pondering the mechanics of a dragon writing, as he chewed on his final forkfull of wherry before pushing his plate aside.

"Well, if you would rather begin when Astaath has matured, so you can learn it all at once, that is fine. Don't worry - I won't forget or back out of it if you say you would rather wait."

He was at odds with himself. Of course he wanted to get back into Harpering, it was his craft, but now he had Astaath, and a dragon wold always take priority. He should wait, in less than an hour Astaath would wake and no doubt demand more food. Then after that both he and K'mir would have to sleep. Then more food, chores, food... so the cycle would go for the next few sevendays before it would even begin to calm down. He would have no time to himself to even think, let alone do anything.

But since when had he ever let that stop him before?

He nodded resolutely. "Ok, let's start now then, though I probably won't get another chance at it for a while. Probably best to start at the beginning, though; I think I've forgotten most of it by now."

(OOC: ugh, sharding muse-sapping essays...)

[Seraph]

((OOC - this will be, ah, fun. <.< I know the basics of guitar playing, but whether or not I can passably role play an experienced player teaching is something else. >.< Sun-addled brain, why did you think it a good idea to role play a Harper?))

Maurisa grinned at his expression - not doubt wondering if she were joking about her dragon's writing or not. She remembered the day Zirith had, in no uncertain terms, told her rider that she wished to learn to write. They had still been North then, back in the Weyr where they had Impressed, and the Harper had just finished her classes for that day. Classes where she had been teaching the children to write. A class Zirith had been watching, for it had been held outside, under the shade of a woven awning made for that purpose.
"Whatever for?" had been the Weyrsinger's reply, her tone one of tolerence for her dragon's whims, and a wary sense of apprehension. When Zirith plotted something, and told Maurisa about it, it was usually a sign that said plot was already well in motion.
Because you can write, and so can everyone else in the Weyr. Even the children, now!
Maurisa got a sense that Zirith thought it would be unacceptable for the dragon of a Harper to be illiterate, though where the green had got that idea, she could not say.
Zirrie...you are aware you don't need to write? You can bespeak any dragon, anyONE you want.
Zirith made a whistling noise of disagreement. She clearly was not content with that, and so, much to Maurisa's utter bemusement, she tried to teach her dragon to write. Not holding out much hope for the adventure from the get go, she wasn't surprised when her green ended up with ink splotches all over her face and paws, though the rider hid her amusement from Zirith - the dragon looked so crestfallen, and yet so ridiculous, with ink splotches around her eyes.
Maurisa was less amused when she had to try and scrub the ink stains from her sleeping furs, weyr-walls, and her dragon's hide. She had the distinct feeling that the wish to draw was simply a smokescreen for Zirith's true plot - re-decorating.

"It was a massacre of our fine worded language." she said solemnly, mostly to herself, though her eyes twinkled with amusement. Zirith didn't seem to find it worth her time to answer, settling for a most un-lady like snort. Maurisa ignored her, though, and, upon hearing K'mir's affirmative, she reached for her gitar and slid it onto her lap. The old instrument had been lovingly crafted by her father, and the simple lines of the gitar spoke elequontly of the man who had smoothed them. There was no adornment on the neck or main body, bar a few simple carved vines along the neck. A stark opposite of his daughter, the Master had preferred subtlety to overt decoration. The wood gleamed with polish, and that mellow hue of an old and yet well cared for instrument.
It was one of Maurisa's treasures.

She wasn't sure how basic to start - she didn't want to offend him by starting too simply, so she held the gitar as if she were playing, and looked up at K'mir, before she moved her fingers to each of the threts, naming each note as she strummed it.
"It gets more complicated the faster you have to play, obviously. You don't need to strum too hard - we don't need to deafen anyone, and if you're playing in a group, doing so would be sure to earn you a sour galnce from any piper you have with you. They get touchy about gitarists trying to drown them out." She chuckled. "Alright, well, so I know where to go from here, how about you take the gitar and have a go." She passed her gitar over the table to him - even though it was her treasure, she knew its worth was in the music it could make, and keeping it to herself would stifle its purpose. Besides, K'mir could not learn just by watching, after all.
Anyway, the gitar had stood up to worse than an apprentice harper before now, and she had a feeling that the new brown rider would be appreciatively careful with it.

((OOC - sorry if the last bit fell flat. >.< I'll plan better next time.))