Who Lhiannon, Rayathess
What An apprentice's misstep precedes two harpers having a (more) civil conversation.
When Late Spring, 2728
Where Lower Levels, Harper Hall

 

XBL4Zbw.png


Harper Hall - Lower Levels
Accessed from the stairs above in the Entrance Foyer and through smaller, narrower staircases throughout the Hall, the lower levels house many rooms, each with its own purpose and function. The largest are the kitchens, which are carved from caves nestled below the Dining Hall. Spacious and well equipped, all food preparation is done there, while storerooms and coldrooms have been situated further down the tunnels on either side of the kitchen itself, allowing quick and easy access.

Further down the tunnels are more storerooms, holding various supplies and goods of all sorts and always kept carefully monitored and stocked by the Steward and his assistants. His office is nestled between the last of these rooms and the small and narrow residents rooms.

Branching off to the right, the tunnels lead into another series of rooms built side by side and accessed by a through passageway. The first are a set of laundry rooms and the last is a spacious and naturally formed bathing cavern.


As busy of a time as it undoubtedly must be for Fort Weyr with a clutch hardening on the sands and eight month-old weyrlings coming quickly into maturity, it's not so far-fetched to suppose that it must also make for a busier than usual season for Harper Hall in the middle of all of the usual springtime activities, particularly for those who make it their business to know (or stay informed about~) new names, new faces, new knots. Despite the increasing demands in her schedule, Lhiannon has yet to miss sending a report when scheduled to provide one — save, perhaps, for today's. In a manner not unlike Yuon's annoyingly in-and-out residence at the hall, she's had a habit of turning up unexpectedly from time to time, although whether it's dragonrider Lhiannon or harper Hanalee who drops by varies from one appearance to the next. Today, it's apparently the latter who exits the dining hall with unbound hair, a journeyman's knot and soft-soled shoes better suited for dancing than work that she's quick to step out of with a grimace once she's safely rounded the corner into one of the hallways that branches toward the kitchen and storerooms. With a quick glance around to ensure that she is, for the moment, quite alone, she ducks into a supply room where the door's just been left ajar and works quickly to trade bare feet for boots, an overskirt for the work breeches concealed beneath, loose locks for a hastily-created braid. The role of Ruathan-gather-attending ingénue fades in favor of one that might more easily blend into the foot-traffic on the upper level, but the low swear that filters out of the room probably belongs to neither as she struggles to close a bulging knapsack that threatens to give away the game to the observant once it leaves the room (and around here, there are surely many of those).

Is there ever a time that the Hall is completely quiet? Whatever be the reason behind his arrival to the lower levels, it’s not immediately apparent (or, perhaps, not that relevant). It could have something to do with the shadow that tags along, more or less, obediently a step behind him. Rayathess’ stormy mood, ever unchanged, might offer a hint or none. The Apprentice’s rather contrite expression is a telling contrast, at least! They could be one of the recent crops assigned to him that require a firmer hand (in his opinion) and are not meeting whatever high expectation he has set. He would have continued along their path, unaware of the fleeting chance of intersecting with Lhiannon after so long an absence between the last time they spoke. It’s the low swearing that draws his attention as a scowl directed at the door. What has him stopping is the lack of control in the Apprentice following him, as they let loose with a loud enough snort of laughter and catching themselves too late with a clap of a hand over their mouths. How sheltered is that poor soul?

Not sheltered enough, at least not from the frowns they're probably about to amass from two quarters in short order. Another person might waltz out of the storeroom to demand what exactly they find so funny — or leave the disciplining thereof to the master in front of them. Having wrestled her bag shut, Lhiannon pushes the door fully open, the better to stand in the doorway with folded arms and a long look askance for the apprentice in question. With no knot visible on her person or her serviceable attire, they might be forgiven for mistaking her as someone who works down on these levels. While her expression broadcasts how great of a miscalculation she estimates the youth's lack of control to have been, there's only an infinitesimal shift in the line of her brow as blue eyes slide briefly to the man to their left. "A poor reflection on one's master, " she observes coolly at length with apparent disinterest, much as if she had just commented on something of little consequence. There's another glance for Rayathess, an almost-twitch of pursed lips before her chin dips in a small nod lest she appear rude. "Master." It's a routine enough greeting as if it were the sort she gives every day (save for the quick scan she makes of his person and the way she promptly turns to break eye-contact heft her bag to her shoulder and adjust the door to the precise angle at which she found it).

No, not sheltered enough! And clearly of an age to know that the lapse is not a tolerable offence. The Apprentice flushes several shades, eyes widening as their mouth works to stammer out a response. “I — I meant no offence…” Now they flounder, drowning in their own uncertainty as Lhiannon bears nothing to mark her. A look is cast towards Rayathess, but the Master remains stone faced. He leaves them to —squirm— struggle further by the barest shake of his head. No, they will not be helped by his hand in this predicament! Having recognized Lhiannon, Rayathess’ mood sours considerably further, but he restrains it to a grim, tight expression. Wonderful! “Evening.” he greets in turn, omitting her title for the sheer satisfaction of watching the Apprentice’s growing dismay and bewilderment. Truly, he’s being rather cruel! “You see what they offer me?” Rayathess remarks darkly to her, before fixing a look to his Apprentice. “Hurry along now. We do not have all night.” He looks ready to wash his hands of this as swiftly as possible. “I’m sorry, miss! I forgot myself.” There’s a click of his tongue, the Apprentice wincing faintly as they bow their head apologetically. Good enough! Rayathess exhales gruffly and turns an expectant, stormy look at Lhiannon. Are they done here?

If he’s being cruel, what does it then say about Lhiannon, who turns back at the tail end of the apprentice's stammers and apology with the same, dispassionate sort of look with which she's been skewering staring them down? "Some stones require more weathering than others to smooth, " weighs the journeyman as if the youngest among them were not present. And yet — "I could arrange to take this one off of your hands easily enough, " given present circumstances although the wry undercurrent beneath may be meant to lean it more into a jest than any sort of serious proposal. Whatever impression that leaves the apprentice with, she makes no effort to correct, meeting the master's dark look with arched eyebrows. "Master Yuon's journeyman said to tell you they'll be upstairs. Good evening." They're apparently done here, as she heads down the corridor in the opposite direction without a look back after (politely!) delivering her 'message.' Despite whatever length of time it may take to get his apprentice sorted, she's not difficult for him to find after; partially concealed by the open door of an unused room where in-person reports may have been given in the past, other passers-by might easily be able to assume that she's just another student tucked away somewhere quiet for studying, given the book propped open to her left and the way she carefully pens notes in encoded shorthand to her right. There's more writing than book-scanning taking place, however, papers angled to let what's visible of the hallway stay within her peripheral line-of-sight while her attention apparently remains on writing unhurriedly.

The Apprentice is either wishing they were anywhere else but there in that moment or for a hole to open up on the floor. Is that a nervous swallow, to what was implied? it definitely is Message delivered, Rayathess’ expression darkens further, but he nods curtly in reply to Lhiannon. “Good evening.” No words are spared for his Apprentice, only a heavy glare that brokers no argument from them. He gestures and they move to start walking ahead of him, while he takes up pace behind and sets back on their original path through the Hall. Sometime later, with the Apprentice dismissed and some deliberation of the choices left to him, Rayathess chooses to visit “Master Yuon’s Journeyman”.

It does not take him long, it’s true, to find her. Even less time to slip inside that room and shut the door behind him. Rayathess does not offer anything remotely close to an apology or greeting and simply: “We don’t have much time.” gruffly spoken. Which could be code for the room they’re currently in and how, for now, it is secure — if what is to be shared between them is … sensitive in nature. If it isn’t, it still stands as a cautionary note that an unused room still presents risks. or he’s just wanting an convenient excuse He doesn’t approach too closely to where she’s settled herself and if his gaze settles on the work (or what he can glimpse of it), it’s subtle and brief.

"We never do, " replies Lhiannon almost wearily without fully looking up as the door swings shut behind the senior harper. Without preamble, she begins her verbal report (which for a while has only arrived in the briefest of writing by firelizard or delivered by unobtrusive hands). "I checked out the Ruathan gather; the status quo appears to be maintained." An easy shift of a wrist pushes the notations she's been working on toward the corner of the table that's nearest him. "Descriptions and epithets you may find of interest in the future, " she explains mildly of their contents, many of which cover new faces that have shown up at Fort Weyr with increasing frequency over the past several months. Blue eyes lift after some moments to study him in a glance longer than the public once-over made in view of his apprentice, observing what differences (if any!) may be apparent since they last went toe-to-toe spoke. "You've been well, I hope." It's delivered lightly enough to suggest that there's no obligation to respond, but there's an undercurrent of caution present, too. For her part, there's something ever-so-slightly different in the way she holds herself, a neutrality in her looks and even the small, too-brief smile she offers.

Rayathess prefers it that way, as they don’t have much luck with lingering in each other's company for too long. After listening to her for a beat or two, he will step further into the room, his reaction to her report indiscernible beneath that constant frown of his. Her study of him while he pours over those words will not yield much change in him; thinner, perhaps and signs of poor sleep. “It would appear so,” he agrees, with only some pause to his reply. He slides the sheet back towards her, to do with it as she will. Rayathess is, of course, assuming this is not an issue. He won’t need a physical copy, not with his strengths in memory recall of written text — it’s physical features and landmarks he struggles with, much to his constant frustrations. Her inquiry is met with a levelled look from him and he answers only a touch briskly. “As well as I can be, between my duties. You’ve had a glimpse of what I have to work with.” Those poor Apprentices. They’re probably not all that bad? or someone’s having a great joke giving him cast-offs At last, he surfaces from his thoughts to give her a clearer and similar look to hers. Ruined only a breath later as his expression tightens and turns conflicted. Undoubtedly, he wants to leave but perhaps a lot of time passed has given him a different perspective. “And you? News from the Weyr has been… positive.” His tone suggests that he’s referencing from the known, public sources.

A tiny, fleeting furrow puckers at Lhiannon's brow while he studies the proffered notes; it clears by the time he's sliding the sheet back to her, which she wordlessly picks up to fold into a small, thick square that disappears into a pants-pocket. Her expression turns sympathetic as he refers to his apprentices, then: "Surely they aren't all quite so, " hopeless, "unpolished?" However optimistically it's meant, there's nonetheless a wry, not-quite smile which follows; she doesn't really expect him to answer in the affirmative. The small tilt of her head is much a thoughtful motion as the only outward sign of her surprise as he voices his own inquiry. "Well enough, between my changing duties, " is her similarly-worded answer for him with a brief arch of eyebrows. "Morale seems good there now, but that's expected, " given the clutch of nine that hardens a little more each day and the hopeful, young folk who await their first meetings. Fingers drumming faintly over one of the pages of the still-open book (on pedagogy) to her left, she turns her attention to underlining something on the half-filled paper still tucked beneath one elbow even while she clears her throat and dares a conversationally-toned, "Sometimes, I'd like more time, some time." Much like the remark with which she managed to draw some conversation out of him, it doesn't carry any notes of expectation; really, it would be all too easy to wave it aside. "But as we don't have much of it, " she continues, as if she's leaving the opening for exactly that while the report never ended, "you should know that I've bargained into another source of information via a particularly observant storesperson, who will tell me, " and thus unbeknownst to them the hall, "if there are changes in various sorts of routines, " of goods and people, "known to their counterparts across continents. It seemed too useful of an opportunity to bypass."

There is only a tightening to his jaw and thinning to his lips that likely say plenty of Rayathess’ unspoken opinion. It’s apparent too in his narrowing gaze and low exhale, but there’s no ire or temper lashing out — and no optimism either, on his part! “Changing duties?” If his words are a touch clipped, it’s not on purpose. Despite his efforts in conversation, he cannot entirely hide the tension in his posture; he’s uncomfortable with these social niceties. Which begs to ask, what keeps him? It can’t merely be sudden (and very out of place) interest! He has no immediate response to her remark on having more time. His gaze lowers briefly, but there is little else in his expression. Perhaps it’s as much as he’s willing to yield in acknowledgement and agreement both. There is too much of a chasm between them that is not easily bridged. She does, at least, offer something neutral to which Rayathess does show a spark of interest in, despite his gruff response. “And you can be assured that they are trustworthy?” Doubt isn’t withheld from his voice, but he isn’t immediately against this new contact of hers. Storesperson sits better than dragonrider, apparently. “It might be.” he agrees grudgingly.

"I was offered a transfer away from running transport, " reveals Lhiannon after closing the volume carefully, pushing slightly away from the table so that she can lean a little more comfortably against the chair's back. Reluctantly, "I've been asked and agreed to learn how to teach the group of weyrlings we'll have at the end of the summer." No doubt it made sense to someone somewhere on paper while considering up-and-coming faces to offer as examples and resources to brand-new dragonriders that a harper of fourteen turns prior to Impression might be a sensible choice — might, perhaps, even have had at least a little experience with how to direct a classroom of young minds. Her expertise, being little different from his, might explain her choice of reading material for all that the practical knowledge gained over the past almost-three turns may ultimately prove most helpful in this new arena. "The position did not seem — disadvantageous to accept even if it doesn't last beyond the next turn and a half, " not if it could possibly result in formative influence and perhaps insight into future dragon-chosen (possible) politicians. That idea doesn't get voiced, lost instead to the tap-tap motion of her pen against the tabletop. For a moment, the lines of her expression soften as she observes the way his doesn't shift; the lack of outright rejection, however significant the distance between them, may fuel the little flash of a genuine smile which follows, although it turns decidedly sly as he questions their her new source's trustworthiness. "Oh, I think they are. I'm quite certain the last thing that they want is for their little network to be at risk of investigation because someone let it … slip that it exists."

His expression darkens with the obvious signs of one tightening the leash on their temper. Rayathess has plenty to say on the matter but keeps himself in check, less he voice over three-quarters of what comes to mind; plenty of words that are best left unspoken in anyone’s presence. He may be practically grinding his teeth in an effort not to be so cynical or just plain cruel. It’s a terrible flaw in him, this visceral reaction to much of what riders are. This time, he keeps himself in check and when that tumultuous storm leaves his features and he finally does speak, his voice is flat but his words are not unkind. “Are you content, then, with your decision? That is … a considerable shift of responsibility. Even if temporary.” Apparently he can be —nice— decent, when he has a mind not to be an irritable curmudgeon! What brings about his unease again is simple: her smile. It could be too that that need of his to withdraw has resurfaced in tandem. “We’ll see if that suffices.” Oh, he has little faith! But he leaves responsibility wholly on Lhiannon. Now? Now Rayathess senses a proper opening and does not waste the opportunity; not entirely. “Is there anything else you wish to tell me?”

Lhiannon waits for that cloudy expression to recede; unsurprised, now, at the shift with the present topic, she unhurriedly collects her notes. "I am content to see what comes of the decision, " she answers at length, adding drolly, "which may well be frequent headaches for dealing with adolescents daily." Throwing her barely-clasped bag over a shoulder, she scoops up the borrowed book into the crook of an elbow, studying the set of chair and table before nudging at the seat with a toe so that it, too, is just as she found it. There's no further commentary offered on the matter of a certain stores clerk's silence; instead, she rounds the furniture so that she ends up parallel to him on her way to the doorway, pausing to tilt a look between him and the handle. "I need to return this before I leave." It's probably an unnecessary statement, unless it serves to warn which way she'll need to head after she exits. Her gaze turns briefly to the wall behind him; teeth catching briefly at her lower lip, she clears her throat and says finally: "Get some rest. — Is there anything you need to have conveyed to anyone at the weyr?" That last is tacked on in (dubious!) afterthought.

Rayathess takes another step back as she begins to gather her belongings in preparation to leave. He gives the barest of nods and no sign of sympathy for potential frequent headaches in her new position. Neither does he wish her luck, which is par for the course with him. As she passes him by, his gaze follows and he does not immediately move to follow in her wake. There is a darted look to the book, but nothing more on it. Her request, however, is met with a scoff and something unintelligible muttered under his breath. It’s dismissed too, without comment and her next offer is met with a heavy frown and grimace. “No.” Thank you. “I won’t keep you from your business. Clear skies, Lhiannon.” And if she would be so kind as to walk through that door? He would like to leave, but is of the mind to let her have the honor first.

With no messages to take back with her as expected, Lhiannon dips her head into a polite farewell. "Then I'll wish you a good evening, Rayathess. Good luck with your apprentice." There's something of a grin audible in there, somewhere, but in the next moment she's pushing the door open and dons the affect of the tired, studious (perhaps even chastised) journeyman before heading down the hallway.


Add a New Comment