Who E'stel, Lhiannon
What Sharing their strengths, E'stel and Hana work together to become better students.
When Autumn, 2725
Where Weyrling Barracks, Fort Weyr

 

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Fort Weyr - Weyrling Barracks
The rounded ceiling of this set of barracks is high enough to accomodate growing dragons. Lining the walls lengthwise are sets of stone couches and cots for their riders. At one end of the room are cabinets holding supplies for bathing and oiling young dragons, as well as the weyrling manuals. Against the opposite wall is a table with scraps of leather and leather-working tools. Tacked up on the wall is a diagram of riding straps.


Late afternoons mean sleepy nap times for young dragons. Full bellies from their midday meal has dragonets draped over their couches like languid felines, though Roheith himself looks a bit more awkward than most, his long limbs splayed out like a fallen foal. As E'stel walks by his sleeping lifemate, arms full of heavy duty leather pieces, he pauses to gaze at the strange position the bronzeling has gotten himself into. Roheith's somehow managed to turn his head upside down despite the rest of him being right side up. A sleepy snorty gurgle emits from the pile of flaxen limbs and elbows, a foot scratching at an invisible itch before settling back into stillness once more. "How can that be comfortable?" The teen shakes his head in disbelief, though a fond smile has crept its way onto his face. He turns back to the task at hand, wrestling the pile of straps over to the open benches and busies himself with setting out several pieces of hardware: buckles, rings, rivets and so forth.

Even in sleep, Fjainoith retains most of her graceful posture, nestled in demure repose with neck and tail curled toward primly-tucked paws. Overall, she's a quiet sleeper, but the occasional gusty sigh escapes her with a particularly deep exhale now and again. Having looped the beginnings of her patchwork straps about her neck to more easily drag the (admittedly short) loop of stitched pieces over toward those same benches, Hana brings much the same materials to this trade of strengths as to her last meeting with E'stel: Books, color-coded notes and flash cards printed in her neat hand, carefully tied together into a bundle of joy ennui. There's a glance for Roheith along the way, expression amused by the time she's close enough to set her belongings down. "What does he dream about?" she asks, perhaps in an attempt to distract from the quality of what she's depositing next to their study materials; the many-holed scraps she's practiced stitching on (and no doubt stabbing unevenly with the awl) are hit-or-miss in quality, as are her stitches. Mechanically inclined, she certainly is not.

E'stel can't help but feel his jaw tighten as the study materials are placed down on the tables. He agreed to this after all, but it didn't help the many turns of frustration at the pages of such objects. But as he notes the straps of his fellow weyrling, his jaw softens. Hana's question succeeds in distracting though, and he looks about to his dragon. "Lately it's been flying, which… is sorta like swimming in the air to his mind," Amusement plays across his face as he looks from her neat and graceful little green to his… collection of body parts bronze. "I think it's the closest thing he can pull from my mind and what he's watched of the older dragons. Though a couple seven days ago he was obsessed with runner behaviors." He casually slides onto a stool at the bench, fidgeting idly with the end of one of the straps. "It's still weird, isn't it? Having them so connected to your memories and thoughts? Like he dreams his dreams but also… my thoughts and memories tied-well…" A bit of a chuckle as he brushes off this brief moments of introspection, "…you already know. It's weird, yeah?" The scruffy haired teen shifts his attention now, almost determinedly, to their mutual education. "So last thing we went over was…" He screws up his face, trying to remember, "Hold trade agreements? Was that…" He exhales heavily, picking up the top book and thumbing through it in an attempt to jog his memory. "Soon he's going to be having dreams about treaties and political disputes." A joke… mostly.

"I wonder, " muses Hana, "if it really does feel something like swimming in the air to them." The speculative look she sends across the barracks - for Fjainoith's couch is markedly away from those of her siblings - turns briefly yearning in the way of one who wants to reach out to one for whom they care, but is constrained from doing so. Recalling herself, her expression smooths, throat clearing softly. "Weird, " she agrees for his description of their shared type of experience, "although I think - it would feel even stranger now to awaken without the connection." Seating herself a polite several feet away, she reaches for the first color-coded chart while he thumbs through the most accessible book. "And the major players in the area over the past two decades, " the harper adds, running a finger over the list of local major and minor holds with a quick knit of her brow. "This isn't too dissimilar to some of my early classes at the hall, but the refresher is sort of nice." Nice, in the way that working with leather hasn't been, says the nose-wrinkle she soon turns onto her sad stitches.

As he flicks through the pages, E'stel's eyes shoot to his fellow weyrling with a look of mild amusement at the mention of these lessons being a "refresher." He pauses on a page, glancing towards her chart. "This… yeah? The weyrs, holds and halls… Okay, yeah, some of this is coming back." He exhales heavily, shifting himself more into his stool, as if bracing for an impact of some kind as he sets down the book. "So winter stores comes from Ista and…. uh… Monaco Bay, yeah? And some from Xanadu and Igen. Xanadu's leaders are… Ri—sali? Yes? And R'hyn? Yeah, they're the two Rs… Monaco's… R'en and…" He looks around the barracks as if hoping something in it will give him a clue. "Jazmin?" It's clear in his tone that he knows what he's saying is wrong. "Yasmin? No… Yasminath is K'zre's green…" Over on their couch, Roheith gives another snorting huff in his sleep. "Jaz… something…"

"'Jaz-something, '" quotes Hana patiently, "is not Monaco's senior queenrider." She's quick to add, "To be fair, they have - several." As with their previous lesson, the harper corrects without leading him too much toward the right answers, inserting reminders only where they're truly needed. Having spent her apprenticeship traveling amongst the major and minor holds beholden to Fort, she doesn't have to refer back to her notes much when they make it to that part of the review, able to prompt him for holder names, locations and recent events seemingly from long-term memory with relative ease. "I know it's tedious, " she says not unsympathetically after they've revised history for a little while, "but this information could be useful to you someday beyond our exams." Blue eyes slant a look back toward the slumbering bronze before returning to his young rider, eyebrows lifting slightly.

E'stel looks a little sheepish at her quoting, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, yeah…" As they continue with the weyrs and then holds and halls the frustration seems to build at names and dates in particular, though he seems to remember events well enough. There are many "-somethings" doing these events, however and when they pause he gives a heavy sigh to expel the agitation, hands having dug decent sized furrows in his hair. "I get it, I mean, knowing WHO is awfully important to some people." He absently fidgets with the corner of one of the books, passing a glance at his dragon again. Another sleepy huff, clearly the agitation building in the sleeping hatchling as well as his rider. "If I didn't impress bronze it wouldn't be so sharding important either…" He flushes a little, seemingly surprised at his own words. "I mean, not that… not that it wouldn't be important otherwise, like… if we did transport of something, just… if he did catch a Senior… I'd… well I'd have to know this stuff. And it doesn't want to stay in my head." He clears his throat, quickly changing the subject. "How… how're you doing with your stitching?" He doesn't meet her eyes at this point, instead pulling some of her leatherwork towards him to inspect it.

Hana doesn't attempt to hide her little smile for just whom knowing the who's-who might be important to, but at least it's an understanding one; as he looks to Roheith, she almost turns toward her own lifemate - who shifts slightly as if still deep in dreams, save for the barely quicker rise-and-fall of her chest that betrays her return to consciousness in the here-and-now. "It would be useful to you, " Lhiannon repeats after listening silently to E'stel's words, fingers not quite drumming over the surface of their makeshift desk in thought before sliding the newest batch of flash cards his way for him to use over the next seven. "No bit of information is insignificant." It's a harper's philosophy, to be sure; Hana's expression brightens after with a more cheery, "But take one thing at a time. Our exams, for now." But then he's changing the subject, and it's her turn to look like someone who's quite out of her comfort zone. Dryly, "I've made attempts, " and that might be the kindest thing that can be said about some of the stitches. "I discarded the last one you saw, " which was utterly hopeless, "and started again. It's really hard to keep everything even and lined up, much less in place while I'm punching or trying to pull the thread through." Near the very end of this second (or third) large loop of leather that's being presented, there's an area that's a little more tidily put together than the others. It's still far from perfect, but it's a small measure of progress on her end since their last session.

The flashcards actually seem to help the building tension for the new young bronzer. E'stel takes them as if he's been tossed a lifeline, "Thanks… yeah… I mean, you're right… one thing at a time." A deep exhale, and he's gazing over her work with interest. "Well… I mean… it's definitely better over here." He indicates the neater section of holes. "You can also use the chalk on it and guide it if you need. Oh! Here!" He reaches over and grabs a right angle measuring tool from the wall. "If you take this…" He grabs an extra scrap of leather and places the right angle down upon it, "you can use some chalk and…" He maneuvers the edge around to draw a little grid. "Like that!" He points to the connectors on the grid. "That may help some?" He offers, holding up the edge and the chalk. "Then you don't have to guess as much. It's slower, but… maybe that will help get your eye in more?" The flush has receded now that he's doing something he knows. "The tough part with these is the size they have to be and all the alterations they'll need…" He picks up one of his pieces, holes neatly done along the connecting sides, much larger than any piece of runner tack, save for maybe a wide breast plate or pulling collar. "Get hand cramps trying to get holes in some of this stuff."

"Use the chalk as a guide, " repeats Hana dutifully with a small nod, as if committing this instruction to memory. Leaning forward a little, she watches his movements with the right-angle tool with interest, eyes narrowing in concentration. There's an approving look for the resulting grid. "Aha. I knew there had to be some kind of system to make these sorts of things more - precise." She might never truly develop an artistic eye, but the perfectionist is already reaching for chalk and straight-edge to try to draw where some of her holes should have been several inches away from the slowly-neatening stitches. Ruefully, after he mentions hand cramps, "I suppose I should try with a new piece. Might be easier to see where I'm going." Wrinkling her nose, she nudges through their supply of scraps with a still uncertain hand, plucking a piece forth with a slight frown before putting it back in search of one better. "They grow so fast, and we haven't even fitted them for their first pairs yet. The way they seem to expand almost overnight, won't we have to lengthen them - once a seven or something?"

E'stel gives a bit of a grin at her approval of this more organized method. "Yeah, there's also the rotary tool for the big sections, but that won't help us with the smaller buckles and straps." He pulls what looks like a large roweled spur end attached to a stick. "It can put little marks in a long line to help you punch a long series of holes. But it's better for areas you attach padding to… or if you want to get fancy." He holds one piece of darker leather over the lighter one, allowing the lighter to pop as an accent. "By then we can probably commission them from real tanners, though. And not have our fingers seize up." He flexes his hand almost subconsciously, ignoring the quiet pop his thumb knuckle makes. There's a nod of approval for a new piece. "Yeah, start fresh." He picks up a couple of his punched pieces and digs around for some waxed thread. "I can only figure they're having us start so early so we really get the hang of the skill." He speculates to her mention of their growth, pulling out a couple of his own leather needles. "And maybe so we also get used to their bodies and how the fit for them works? Because, yeah, we're going to be replacing or adding pieces to these about as often as we oil them." Well, maybe not THAT often. "Maybe helps knowing quality for straps in the future… we'll know normal problem areas or places that they need a custom fit?" Like runner saddles. But he doesn't add that last part. "I tell you, it'll be nice to know exactly where something is bothering them and how rather than guessing and getting thrown in the dirt if you're wrong." Been there, done that, got the mud stained t-shirt.

Having finally selected a piece that doesn't give or have the characteristics of the unsafe pieces in the scrap pile to teach them to distinguish good quality from poor, Hana sets to marking out a grid as suggested. As slow as this method is, her progress is almost hampered by the way she rubs out marks which aren't all but exactly aligned. Blue eyes lift at length to regard the newly displayed tool, lips pursing. "Padding keeps them comfortable, right. But does the entire set have to be lined like that, do you think? Or just the parts that might - chafe more than others?" Fancy, though. There's the smallest turn of her chin toward 'sleeping' Fjainoith, followed by a resigned exhale. "Something tells me my hard-earned marks already belong to some blissfully unaware tanner." Painstakingly drawing her way through about five inches of her blank canvas, she finally puts the marking tools aside with a look at the awaiting awl, taking it up with a firm grip to begin her latest attempts at hole-punching. "It must be more challenging to fit things like this for runners, " she ventures after a moment, casting a sideways look at the other weyrling. "Although they'll all be so much bigger than one. I can't imagine what it's like, getting them on or off a fully-grown dragon with ease."

E'stel gives a nod. "Yeah, probably not all, yeah. If the leather's treated well and oiled often they shouldn't need all of it padded." He considers this a moment, giving an offhanded shrug. "Unless they're particularly fussy I suppose. I'd imagine there probably are some." Just like people and runners. He chuckles a little at her remarks on the tanners. "Yeah, I've seen some really fancy straps when I've visited some of the stalls in the past." He lines up the pair of leather pieces, holding them up to see the light through the holes. "They can even paint leather too… with metallics and bright colors. I sure hope Roh doesn't want some crazy colors or something." As he starts to thread the pieces together he gives a bit of a nod on runners. "Yeah… well they only way they can tell you they don't like something is to move funny or, well, protest." There's definitely intended meaning behind that word. "And really, you rather they sorta do because then you can at least know there's a problem. But some people just assume they're being 'bad' and punish them instead of listening." The furrow of his brows comes not from concentration, given the grim sound of his voice. "So you do what you can. Try and get to know their body, which is what I figure we're doing too. But yeah, size is… less of a challenge. I assume, like they said, that they help us. You know, crouch down or lift us up or something. The dragon I bathed when we were candidates did that… lifted up a leg for us to climb on." And that was just a blue. "At least…. yours is, uh, smaller?" He offers helpfully, pulling tight one of the lines of threading and passing her an encouraging grin.

From the look on Hana's face, it's clear that she wouldn't be surprised if Fjainoith turned out to be one of those particularly fussy types. "I saw some nice shades once on leather-bound journals, " she muses, "but never really thought of the same sort of customization being applied to something you - just sit on or hang onto." The pale green across the room can feign slumber no longer as the topic of 'pretty things' continues; stretching in a brief show of glassy wings, she strides over to get a better look at her rider's handiwork (such as it is) as imperiously as a young dragon almost through her second full month of life can, tipping a silent look to first the leather, then Roheith's before settling primly. "Only smaller physically, " rejoins Lhiannon without glancing at her lifemate, still focused on finishing her row of significantly neater holes. "That was slower, but worthwhile, " she decides after setting down her awl and rises from her seat with a little wince; poor postures are difficult habits to correct, but she's making an effort. "I'd better take her outside. But if you're still working when we get back - she's not quite ready for another meal yet. If those holes are good, I'll make a few more. It must be easier to stitch neatly when the holes aren't awful." There's an amused, self-deprecating flash of grin for the younger weyrling before she's shepherding following Fjainoith out of doors. It doesn't take long for them to return, and as the proud creature can't resist watching these beginning steps toward crafting something for her their benefit, Hana is indeed able to get a little more work accomplished, keeping the friendly conversation flowing throughout between prompts for evaluation.

E'stel nods as he ties off the end of his waxed twine. "Absolutely. And there can be some pretty classy combinations of textures too. Suedes and various grains." After a moment he cracks a grin, "Not gonna lie… If my family hadn't pushed me into the Craft, I'd probably have become a Tanner. I've always liked making stuff for the runners." As Fjainoith wakes and comes over, he watches her inspection with amusement. Roheith is still deeply asleep, a pallid bronzen forelimb now draped over his upside down head and causing him to give a squeaky snore that he would be most embarrassed to hear about when he does wake. Est looks over Lhiannon's work. "Yep. And honestly, sometimes it's faster to go slower in the long run, you know? And now you can even use that as a template to put the awl through and mark out even holes on the straps you're attaching it to before you punch those." He starts to line up the next strap and leather, passing a glance to her and the green when she mentions taking her out, "Yeah, sure. I'll still be pulling these together." He returns the grin, appreciating her feeling better about the process. Now if only he could feel better about history? He eyes the flash cards briefly, but when Hana and her green return he's still working away on his straps, though the cards may be in a different order than they were originally. And surely it doesn't take that long to sew that piece on? He, too, continues their chatting in between assisting and attaching more straps as Roheith squeaks and snores away in the background.


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