Who Eiram, Syn
What Eiram joins candidacy with a BANG.
When Winter, 2714
Where Center Bowl, Fort Weyr

Fort Weyr - Center Bowl
The wide center of the bowl is often bustling with activity as riders come and go. Off westward can be seen the entrances for the candidate barracks and the guest weyr, while to the east is a large opening that leads into the dragon infirmary. The bowl stretches off both to the north and to the south, where the sheer stone walls rise steeply to the sky.


The time of day is rather indeterminate, sometime past lunch, somewhere before dark. It's hard to tell because sky's thick with clouds of a heavy steel grey that promise snow in the very near future, the winter air almost warm if only because it's lacking in full-force winds. It's still cold, make no mistake, but it's not as cold as it could be, and thus the bowl is rather bustling with activity. Only one corner of it is lacking in people, a single figure and a rather alarmingly large tube given a very wide and telling berth. The reason? That looks an awful lot like a satchel of gunpowder being hefted up onto a tiny blonde's shoulder, crazy hair puffed out of her face as she looks up a the top of the cylinder that's honest-to-Faranth taller than her and says, "I didn't think this through." So she'll just… stand there. And stare. Because that's what you do when faced with height problems: weather it with lack of grace and much loud mumbling the likes of which is probably easy to overhear.

There is a short young lad coming from the Dragon Infirmary. Which might seem quite the odd place for a harper apprentice to be appearing from save that his mother is one of the Dragon healers. There is a little skip to his step as he steps out into the 'relatively' warm air of the bowl, clearly a lad who enjoys the winter! As he crosses towards the living cavern his gaze picks out that area of avoidance and source of potential chaos. A glance around to see if anyone else plans to approach before he strides over and looks up at the tall cylinder and then to woman who is even more height challenged than he. "What you got there?" He asks with eyes bright with interest and curiosity.

"Your Worst Nightmare," comes Syn's immediate reply, bag still hefted on her shoulder, other hand still on her hip, voice on the doomful side of sotto voce as she continues to stare at the oversized cylinder. It does look a little nightmarish, painted black with vivid red swirls added in an artistic hand. It might be the harbinger of their mutual demise! It might be the work of some Pernese devil himself! It might be— "A firework. It's a firework. The name's a work in progress, but it's livin' up to it so far." Finally blue eyes swivel up to focus on the slightly-taller Eiram, vivid with wickedness. "Done did made it too tall, methinks." Granted, it is on a slight pedestal, a block of carefully-nailed wood lifting it as much as it is keeping it up right, but, "Should'a loaded it up before I put it into the base, but I was worried about it goin' topheavy without the counterbalance." She pauses a moment, blue eyes going from distantly friendly to mischievously calculative, eyeing Eiram for his height, glancing over at the cylinder, looking back the way (she thinks) the young harper came before saying, "Say, you aren't busy at the moment, are you? Fancy giving me a hand?"

Eiram grins at the response. Young teenage boy…of course such words will bring excitement to him as his gaze shifts to the large devilish tube and back to the woman. "Maybe a little tall, but boy it looks like it is going to pack a wollup when it goes off." At the question of his availability he shakes his head, "Just took Ma her dinner so I am free as a bird this evening. I would love to be a part of this…" He says as he inspects the large tube again, "Would a boost up help?"

And Syn does absolutely nothing to dissuade enthusiasm - if anything, she delights in it, eyes crinkling at the corners with a wide, spirited grin. "Maybe just a bit," she agrees, "but that's the general idea. If you aren't blind or deaf after this puppy goes off, I ain't done my job right." That… might be a bit overdramatic, but considering the source, that's about what she was going for - the greenrider is visibly brimming with enthusiasm that spilleths over when Eiram indicates he's free. "You're the best. Do you mind? It won't take me but a second." And, as she's juggling her satchel of questionably flammable goods, "Took your ma her dinner, though? She busy, or?" Curious minds inquire!

Eiram laughs to listen to her and walks around the device, inspecting it curiously before standing next to Syn again. "Something this big, reckon will make the whole weyr blind and deaf, maybe even those up at the halls." There is certainly a look of anticipation on his features as he finally looks back to the greenrider, "I don't mind one whit…this looks epic. Something that songs will be written about!" He declares as he reaches over to help her with the satchel, "She is a dragonhealer and she got the evening shift tonight and well I need to keep in her good graces if I am to keep performing with Leuka."

Syn watches him go with the sort of smug sense of pride that comes with someone enjoying a thing you've made. "You caught me," she drawls in a stage-whisper, leaning only slightly into Eiram's space as he comes back, "I heard a fierce rumor that a Master in one of our nearby halls finds my work, and I quote, 'a crude, distasteful, and egregious use of our planet's minerals.' I might be making a statement with this guy." Just maybe, huh? She pats the barrel of the mortar nevertheless, as affectionate towards it as an owner towards a pet before she flicks Eiram an amused look. "Is that an offer?," she asks with a twinkle in her eye. "I've been considering doing a show set to music." But for now, she lets him handle the satchel, reaching for his other hand to steady her as she clings to the over-tall barrel and hoists herself up to perch awkwardly on the wooden stand. "Is she?" Despite the fact she's half-wrapped about a mortar, Syn points a bright, curious look down at Eiram. "My dad's a dragonhealer, too. Grade five, outta Ista. Hard work." Begrudgingly admitted, perhaps. "Is Leuka who you're studying under? You guys were quite impressive at Shenanigans the other night."

"Oh pish." Eiram responds to her comment about a nearby Master, "He has no appreciation for art and excitement. Some of the old men at the halls forget what its like to explore and make chaos and want to drum it out of everyone!" He explains giving his opinion of said Masters. Given his excitement over this he has no doubt had run ins with them as well! The question of the offer gets a very assertive nod from the youngster, "Oh yes…cellos and drums, a whole string section.." He starts to wave hands in the air like a conductor. "It would be amazing…an event to be remembered." Yep the young harper is already envisioning it. There is a nod about his mother, "Yeah she is a grade 5 here…keeps her busy some days for sure." His face brightens all the more at the compliment of his performance and he gives a bow, "I was honoured to be of service…and your performance was quite impressive as well!"

"Pish." Syn repeats the word, a twisty little grin playing about the edges of her mouth. "I like that. It suits. You're my kind of person, Pish." Did… did his noise of disdain just become a nickname? It might well have, though she moves right on with a cheerful, "Our weyrs and halls needs more people that think that way. There's enough hidebound old farts to be getting on with - out with the old blood and in with the new, I say." There's tinkly laughter for the conducting he's got going on, teeth bared in a wide smile even as her gaze lifts, goes distant, imagining it, too. "Oh yes. We'll need some fiery comets for the woodwind section. Some nice waterfall features for the strings. Something big and loud for the drums. Got a favorite kind of firework? I can fit it in." Yep. Definitely plotting it already. Parents-talk is abandoned in favor of giving Eiram a look, smug and amused and many other things at mention of her performance. "Thank you. I learned to dance from a ship full of Seacrafters. It's been called eclectic and scandalizing, but never impressive before, I don't think," she says with a chuckle before gesturing that he can hand her up the satchel. "But seriously though, you're talented. Hopefully your momma lets you keep at it. Now go ahead and hand me that, we'll get this poured and then we'll light it up." Wait, what?

He gives a little half smile as she picks up on his exclamation, "Something my uncle would say when he wanted to say something else but us littles were around." He explains and nods heartily at the next, "Yeah, I think they were glad to hand me over to Leuka once he became the weyr harper. Though I think they were just wanting to make his life harder." He says with a laugh, "But he is a great teacher and I like learning the new music from him and well it seems to go over well at Shenanigans telling by the crowds we get." Yep, the great plan of inflicting Eiram on Lueka did backfire…now got a boy wishing to continue on the new musical traditions! "Well Da is a Harper …I suppose its in the bloodlines. I don't think she will keep me from playing, but won't stop her commenting on some things." He says as he passes the satchel carefully up to Syn.

Syn snorts for that explanation, the rather unladylike noise dissolving quickly into laughter. "I'm sure my parents wished my uncle were that polite. I learned half the more colorful phrases I know from mine. It's true, what they say about sailors," she drawls with a wink. "What all do you play? Though, well, it ain't fun you're having if you don't make somebody else's life a little harder, right? He seems like a good sport, and much more suiting to your attitude besides." Because Eiram's clearly spunky, and she likes that! Viva la revolution! "Good. If he teaches you along those lines, we'll be set for talent here for a while. Although…" Bright blue eyes trail thoughtfully across the bowl, squinting in a distracted fashion before she realizes he's still talking to her. "Sorry. Dragon," she says, explaining the look with a tap of her finger to her temple. "Bah. I suppose that's what mothers are good for, yeah? Meddling for the greater good or something like that. I'll try not to be quite so oppressive when it comes to mine choosin' what to do with her life someday." Emphasis on try, but for now Syn falls silent, rising on tiptoes to see what she's doing as she carefully empties the satchel of coarse black powder into the mortar. "That round bit with the cone on top next?," she requests with a point towards the 'nose' of the firework lying nearby.

"Well the sailors on the boats weren't so withholding, but we just had to be careful around Aunty or we might get our ears boxed or mouth soaped." Eiram responds to her finding a similar thread of sailoring with her. "I used to be the ropes monkey when I was little. I love to climb up to the crows nest." He explains of his own childhood, even if he is still little and young. "Well I mostly play Lyre and Guitar, I do some drumming but I am not near as talented as Da and Leuka at it. I like dancing my fingers over strings I guess." He says giving his fingers a little wiggle like playing a harp. The distracted look is recognized as his parents are both riders and he gives a little nod and goes to reach for the cone and passes it up to her. "Here ya go.."

"Already got a bit of sailing in your blood, hmm?," Syn notes with a hint of approval, appaising him anew. "Don't suppose you can play any good old sea shanties on that guitar or lyre of yours, can ya? That's one thing I do miss, since bein' weyrbound: the music." Syn's gaze goes distant again, but this time it's more thoughtful than it is draconic in nature, giving something much consideration as she takes the cone and the effects loaded beneath, seats it atop the mortar with a deft twist, and then hops back down with a dusting of her hands. "Thank you. You're a regular hero, Pish," she says, admiring the finished product with a noise of approval and both hands on her hips before she cants a look his way. "Don't suppose you feel much like dancing your fingers over something else, do ya? There's eggs on the sands. Might be a while before they harden up enough to touch, but if you're interested…?" If he is, she has a knot there for him, extended with a flourish of wrist and voila it's like magic (but really it's sleight of hand), bright white and perched on her gloved palm for him to take, should he so choose. If not, well, that's alright, too - it'll go right back to the mysterious somewhere from whence it came as she sets about honest-to-Faranth lighting up that firework right in the middle of the bowl. There's maybe a reason people are avoiding their area, as she points a manic grin his way, strikes the flint and suggests, "This is the part where we run." Candidate rules? Guiding him to the barracks? Maybe she'll save that for later, when there isn't a fuse burning slowly towards that huge old firework, hm? Indeed she will!

"Of course, those were the first I learned." Eiram says with a grin to the woman, "Can't say the masters appreciated all of them when I entered apprenticeship, but I still play them as entertainment all the same." He actually giggles as she calls him Pish and just shakes his head. Then there is the question he was not exactly expecting when helping building explosive devices. There is a blink of surprise before he is nodding, "Yeah…really? For …you mean.." The wordy harper suddenly does seem at a loss for words, "I thought it was awesome enough she let me play songs to them, you mean I can touch to?" He finally says as he collects himself. The knot is handed down and he takes it with both hands as if it were a fragile egg itself. Then she is warning him to run and he tucks the knot in his pocket, "Well Yes… and yes…lets run!" He says as he sees the fuse and runs out of the way with Syn. First act of candidacy…chaos. Well that suits.

"Hmm. Well, perhaps when we're a little less busy," because time's running short on that fuse, "I'll pick your brain about a few ditties from way back. I'm sure I've got something in my repertoire I can trade for a few songs from you." Syn rocks back on one leg, awful casual for someone with explosives nearby, eyes glittering with amusement as Eiram stutters over his words. "Yes, really. You're smart, progressive, and I think you've got just the right attitude to bring something more than just music to the weyr. Morizanth and I'd be honored to have you as one of our candidates." The knot is surrendered, and Syn is pleased, nodding absently even as she gathers her stuff to run. "Yep. I imagine it'll be your momma that gives the all-clear, but once that's done, there'll be touching aplenty. I expect good things out've you." But for now - flee! Syn cackles for his compliance and takes off alongside, clearing the far side of the bowl just in time for a burst of fizz-sparkly color and an earth-shattering kaboom!


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