A Thousand Broken Wings [smiths?/open]

[Ruby]

Ten added another small pinch of gold filings to her crucible, sprinkling it across the mixture of Keroon sand, the dust of three Glasscraft secret stones, and shards of broken glass recovered from the Main Hall that already filled the small pot. The glass shards glittered in the orangey, flickering light from the forge. They reminded Ten of fluttering dragon wings; probably a good comparison, considering the reason for the glass' destruction in the first place. With a small sigh, she hooked the temporary handle on and lifted the pot into the furnace. It would be quite some time before all the contents were fully heated and melted, but when they were, the glass would be a rich red, like the color of Benden wine. If the decorative wine carafe she made from it turned out good enough, she'd try to mix the same color red for some wineglass stems, and if THOSE turned out right, she'd bring them to the Gather. No doubt Southern would have requested a Master for the gather, and although she was nowhere near making her own Master Piece, he could at least give her some feedback.

But for now, all she had to do was wait. She wiped her forehead with her forearm, reaching up to push stray hairs off her sticky face. Shucking off her thick Wherhide gloves and apron, she also stripped off her incredibly sweaty shirt. It was so hot already this year, and working next to an extremely hot furnace for hours did not help. Slinging her shirt over her shoulder, she grabbed her waterskin and headed out towards the Smith's forge, and past that, the exit. Normally, she wouldn't be caught dead in only her breastband outside of the Bathing Rooms or her own room, but it was so hot, and there was no one else around. The forge was out by the stables- convenient for runners who needed new shoes, and nicely out of the way if you wanted to hang around in your breastband.

Ten splashed some water over her face, allowing it to drip down onto her shoulders. It wasn't very cold anymore, but it still felt good. Leaning back against the stable wall, she took a nice swig out of the skin, then gave up and splashed more on her face. It really wasn't cold, and it really didn't taste good. She'd kill for some cold water, but the Main Hall and the river were a good walk, and... well, she was in her breastband, and her shirt was still sopping. She should have known better than to wear sleeves in this heat, or long pants, althouth there wasn't much choice if you were working with hot glass. Layers, maybe, but then she'd still be hot. Apparently there were bonuses to loving above the forge; if she wanted a change of clothes now, she'd have to haul all the way to the Candidate Barracks, and then there'd be other girls there, watching her change.

Big Brother did not object to the change, however. The forge was boring, and even his failed memory had managed to log the schedules of all the local smiths and farriers and thieves that came by. Thieves, yes- someone came around every day and stole the shiny things out of the baskets, and things out of the bottom of the furnaces. The Candidate Barracks provided him with much more higher-stakes schemes. Those nasty Candidates. Ten encouraged this new interest; she'd heard of flits especially passing out from the heat, and even dying from it. She was used to the heat of a forge in summer, but she wouldn't have Bro anywhere near it if she could avoid it. Now that she was out in the shade, though, she called him, and the little blue popped in to flutter down to her shoulder like a piece of falling blue hide. "Find out anything good today, Bro?" she asked.

[dragon]

Working in the smithy was always hot, sweaty work. Especially if one didn't really spend an overtly lot of time in there. While working next to a blazing furnace was something he'd used to do, and it didn't used to bother him any ... now that he was a dragonrider and spent more time in the chill of between than in the heat of a forge ... it was harder to handle. So it was that C'oar found himself headed out of the forge with a pair of empty water skins, aiming to get them refilled. Considering he was drinking like a fish and sweating it out just as fast... it was no wonder. With much the same considerations that Tenlie had had, he'd stripped out of his protective leather garments, under which he'd not been wearing a shirt to begin with.

Naturally, having gotten used to the ways of Riders, and the Weyr, he almost never noticed the lack of a shirt on her person when he found her there near the stable. However finding her there did merit investigating. C'oar had seen her around, more often around the smithy than anywhere else. And only recently. Which made him wonder who she was, where she'd come from, and what it was she was doing in the smithy. Not iron working, as he hadn't noticed any undue shifting in materials over where he worked. So it had to be something else.

"Hello." He greeted, simply, coming to a stop and tossing the empty sacks to the ground at his feet. "I noticed you've been around. Can't say as I know you, though."

[Ruby]

Big Brother was halfway through a complicated series of images and emotions (the Weyrlingmaster was making the Weyrlings dig a ditch? Candidates were next?) when he cut off short, looking over her shoulder back towards the forge. He hissed, curling around her neck in his favorite position, contorting so he looked like a scarf instead of a firelizard. His tail draped down her chest, only accenting her lack of cleavage. Not that Ten cared, really, but she did wonder what had made Bro scamper into spy position so quickly.

She looked back over her shoulder, pulling her bushy pony tail out of the way as she turned her head. She looked so casual for a moment, leaning there against the wall of the stable, shirt over her shoulder as if she didn't have a care in the world. It lasted all of half a second. As soon as she saw the other smith, she practically squeaked, spinning towards him before retreating around the corner of the stable, pulling her nasty, sweat-soaked shirt back on (as if that was any better: it was white).

Once she'd made herself... presentable again, Ten peeked back around the corner, blushing furiously. "I do be sorry! You did catch me unawares." Stepping out from behind the wall, she glanced down before sticking a hand out and meeting the man's eyes again. "Can we try again? I do be Tenlie, nice to meet you. You do be the ironworker, no? The Smith?" She knew there was one around, and had seen the man from the back, but never up close. Shoulders that big labled him pretty well, though. Now, if only he didn't think she was totally nuts.

[dragon]

She went through a range of postures and expression so fast it would make a body's head spin. Faranth, she went through those as fast as Saeo'd gone through moodswings! It was certainly something to behold, and left C'oar standing there and just watching for a moment, left completely without any words. It took him a moment to figure out what had happened that had provoked that kind of reaction - indeed when he'd first come to the Weyr he might well have expected that very reaction. Shards, had he been a rider that long already? To not notice these things anymore?

It didn't take her long to re-don her shirt and come back, though, this time trying to be presentable and sociable all at the same time. C'oar brushed his own hand off his trousers before accepting hers, trying to get some of the oil off of it. Working iron wasn't one of the cleanest jobs in the world, no. "Well met, Tenlie." He greeted, allowing her fumble to pass by unnoted. Maybe it would help her calm down again. It wouldn't do anyone any good to embarrass her needlessly anyway. "Yes, I'm one of a few ironsmiths." He confirmed. "I'm C'oar."

He gestured at the limp flitter that was apparently trying to make itself invisible. "What's he trying to do?" C'oar asked, out of curiosity, before asking yet another similar question. "And if I might be so nosy ... what is it you're doing? In the smithy, I mean. I see you there a lot."

[Ruby]

Ten was delighted. He didn't seem put off by her sudden disappearance and reappearance, and he was a smith. She'd have someone to talk to about the forges and her craft, even if blacksmithing wasn't exactly glasscrafting. Still, besides the occasional encounter in the Candidate Barracks, the most conversation she'd had recently was with Emoyan, and she figured the Candidate Master didn't really count as a friend. Yet, anyway. So anyone coming up to talk to her was pretty exciting, these days.

She took a good, steadying breath while he was speaking, trying not to seem quite so over-eager (or desperate). She had a momentary panic attack when he first wiped his hands on his pants, worried that she had something on her hands, but of course she didn't. She'd only been working with powders and solid glass today, nothing too nasty. Plus, both of them were smiths - she knew it was dirty work. "Please, do call me Ten," she added. "It do be lovely to meet you, C'oar." He was a rider- that she filed away for later conversation, though. It was heartening to know that he still had time to do metalwork even with a dragon.

Looking down towards her chest, Ten had to laugh. Big Brother was doing a pretty good imitation of a neckerchief, but he'd opened one beady, suspicious eye and had it focused malevolently on C'oar. "Ah, this do be Big Brother," she explained, poking at the skinny flit. "He do be trying to spy on you, without you knowing. Everyone do be plotting against him all the time. Obviously it do be working quite well," she added. Big Brother apparently took offense, hopping off her neck to practically slither into the air, going between within moments. "He do be... paranoid, the word do be," she finished before turning her attention back to the other smith.

"I, on the other hand, do be a Glasscrafter," she went on, fiddling with one of the small glass drops dangling from each of her ears. She had no piercings, but they were held on by cleverly designed and concealed magnets - a gift from one of her favorite Masters when Ten walked the tables. "A Journeyman. I do be replacing all the glass that broke when the Main Hall did explode," she went on, to clarify her near-constant presence in the Forge these days. "A candidate, as well. You do be an Ironsmith, you say? But your name does sound like that of a Rider," she said, turning the statement into a question. Doing a little bit of research couldn't hurt, especially if she did impress and wanted to continue her studies.

[dragon]

((LOL He wiped his hand before, not after. XDD))

"Ten." He repeated, acknowledging the request. However, he was a bit more inclined to call her Dooby. She sure used that phrase a lot, almost in every sentence she uttered. But ... each to their own, and it took all types. Maybe it was a speech style from where she was from ... wherever that was. He couldn't say as he'd heard it before. "Where, exactly, are you from, Ten?" He asked, curiously. Of course, it could be anywhere in the North, or even out and about of the South. He had never strayed very far from his own home, before coming to the Weyr as a candidate.

"Some of them are like that." C'oar agreed, after her string of comments on the flitter. "Have you tried blindfolding him? It might calm him down a little - that or make him hyper. Never know." It was an idea, though. And if he was that suspicious of everything? Anything was worth a shot. C'oar was quite glad his own flitter wasn't that suspicious. In fact, one couldn't wish for a better pet than Storm.

"Glasscrafter. Ah. Makes sense, then. I understand. I am sure everyone's grateful for your efforts. I've been working to similar ends, actually. Replacing some of the pans and other metal gear. Once through a fire of that intensity, a lot of the old utensils either melted outright, or lost their temper." He shrugged ever so slightly, shifting his weight to one foot only. At her comment of his name sounding like a rider, he smiled slightly, and gave a small nod. "I am a rider. Frosstyth is my dragon ... the big, burly, muddy thunderstorm looking brown. Usually ... over toward the river somewhere. He doesn't like to sit too close to the forge." C'oar made a vague gesture toward the river, before shrugging again. Most people who frequented past here had seen the brown at least once, but usually more often than that. As much time as C'oar spent at the forge, the brown spent in the area.

[Ruby]

((yeah, she just got nervous about hers when he wiped his off ))

"I do be from the Glasscraft Hall at Ista," she said, unaware that he was asking only because of her heavy accent. It came from the Hall of course, a mix of Ista's slow drawl, the 'aye's and inflection of the ex-sailor apprentices that made up about half of the incoming apprentices, and minor grammar errors that were practically slang among the Glasscraft Hall's lower levels (drudges, common-born apprentices, and the like). She could speak correctly, and had done so as a child, but as soon as she escaped the Hold she picked up the accent and stuck to it, using it as a form of minor rebellion. "You do be from the South, then?" She could tell accents, and that was no Telgar.

"A blindfold? That may work..." she mused, looking up at the spot where Big Brother had disappeared. Truthfully, Bro's suspicious nature had never bothered Ten or caused any problems (except when he got cranky from lack of sleep and spent the whole night throwing a tantrum, but last time she'd taken him to the Infirmary and they put him to sleep, and that seemed to work). She wasn't about to tell C'oar that, though, not when she'd just met him. "I shall try it." She meant to ask if he had pets, but he'd already gone on. Ten wasn't bothered; she'd much rather spend time with someone who wanted to talk than be forced to carry the conversation herself.

"Aye, it do be a good bit of work," she agreed, thinking of all the metal in the Dining Hall. "I do be lucky you do be here - I did train as a Smith, of course, but I do be... no higher than level one apprenticeship, in that discipline. Good thing I did no have to work on all that, too. I do no think the Weyr has a dedicated Journeyman Smith, do we? Only Impressed Smiths, like you," she said with a smile. It really was a relief - she wasn't a bad ironworker, but she wasn't good either. "That big brown do be yours?" she added, glancing in the direction of the river (not that she could see Frosstyth, not from this far away). "Aye, I see him all the time. Would he like it if I did say hello next time I passed? I do know almost nothing about dragons," she admitted, looking hopeful. She would love to actually meet a dragon before standing for impression - maybe that would have been a good first step before declaring her Candidacy. Too late now, of course.

[dragon]

"Ista." He repeated, thoughtfully. That explained some of how she talked, but not all of it. "I don't mean to be rude, Ten, but ... you might want to clear up your speech a bit. People here are going to think you're a few bolts shy of a wagon if you don't. Just ... so you know." And people weren't kind about such things either. It was all the could do, though - to warn her. There was no sense in letting her go off and get stomped on for it if he didn't have to. "Yeah, I'm native. I'm from one of the cotholds in the area, before I came here a couple turns ago." He shrugged just a bit. "I can certainly say I've had my eyes opened to what's going on, since coming to the Weyr. I never realized how insulated the Holds were." And how fortunate that they were, too. This dragonrider business was dangerous stuff. So far, he wasn't sure how he'd managed to survive. All of his friends were dead or missing. Shards, even his local foe had up and vanished! What were the odds of that?

"I was just an apprentice myself when I came here. I got my journeyman knots afterward." C'oar shrugged. "There are a few full time smiths, but not very many, nor terribly skilled. It's rather dangerous here, after all. As you might have noticed." C'oar nodded slightly. "Skilled craftsmen aren't going to stick around when it's so much safer and easier to work in a Hold somewhere, and ship the goods in instead. Most of the time, us rider-crafters can fill in nicely. But every great now and again ... like this ... we get swamped. Doesn't happen often, though." Before this, he'd been working on helping with regular construction of new facilities, not so much all-out ironwork.

But it was nice to be back in the forge again.

"Frosst? He'd be delighted if you stopped to talk to him. He's a real personable dragon, just don't mention anything about leaves. He's a bit twitchy about leaves." C'oar warned. "Storm is usually over there, too, hiding out in the shade. Don't let him terrorize your blue too much - he might chase him just for the fun of it. But he's actually a nice flitter." The best one C'oar'd ever had. That young green was just ... well ... she was green. Not nearly as useful as the bronze flitter was.

[Ruby]

And what was she supposed to say to that? Rof'l, too, had mentioned her accent, but the lesson had gone on, so Ten had been spared coming up with a response. Well, she might as well go with the truth. "Aye? You do be the one that sounds funny to me!" she laughed, but turned more serious at his next words. "Eyes opened, eh? Is it truly that dangerous, here in the Weyr? I may be looked down upon simply for my speech?" That didn't sound like what she'd heard of Selenitas, but C'oar had been here much longer than she had. She'd trust him. With a bit of concious effort, she said, "There, this is better, no?" in a much clearer tone. Not perfect, and still oddly inverted, but at least she'd gotten the 'is' right.

Ten had never though of the Weyr as particularly dangerous, with the attack on the Hatching Sands being a notable exception. She'd assumed that was an anomaly, though, not the rule. Showed just how much she knew about Weyr life. "So... it do be - sorry, is - possible to continue working on you craft if you impress? Are there any rider-Masters?" With a bit of a blush, Ten slowed down, dropping her eyes. "Apologies for all the questions, C'oar. I just put my name in for Candidacy, and I have had no rider-crafters to speak with." She didn't want to overwhelm him, but Ten was in a fairly exciteable mood, her adrenaline still up after the race to put her shirt back on. Perhaps it was time to put this conversation off until she was a little calmer; she'd made a bad enough impression already, she thought.

She did smile at the idea of talking to his dragon, though. "I shall try to stop by next time I see him. He has always seemed friendly." With another glance in the direction of the river, Ten also checked the angle of the sun - oops, she'd already been out here longer than she'd intended. As the other Smith finished answering her questions, she reached for her abandoned waterskin, returning it to her shoulder. "It was lovely to meet you, C'oar, but I do have some glass to check on. Perhaps I shall see you at the river some time? Or around the forge, for certain."

((If you want a new thread post-impression, just let me know. I can start or you can!))

[dragon]

C'oar smiled, and nodded. "Much better. Very much better." He agreed. "Keep practicing, it'll come to you." grammar out of order was far less noticeable than completely whacked out half backward grammar. It would save her a lot of grief from people. It was a bit odd, how everyone was so quick to look down their noses at everyone else. But could he really make that judgement? After all, he was guilty of it too. He'd just told the poor girl that her speech was not up to par! Granted, he'd had the best of intentions only, of course. But a lot of boats were sunk by the very best of intentions. He couldn't do anything but sigh inwardly at himself. There really was no hope for this Weyr.

"I don't believe there are any Master Riders, no. But there are quite a few Journeymen riders." C'oar clarified. Some of them attained that rank before impression - like himself. Some attained it afterward through turns upon turns of working at it during free time away from the tasks that came with a dragon. It was difficult. Which was probably why there were no Master Riders. At least ... none that he knew of. "I don't know why you can't. I do. I can't say I honestly expect to advance beyond Journeyman, though. Being bonded to a dragon is a lot of work. More than I realized before hand. But I wouldn't trade it for anything." Despite the harrowing battles he'd had to some how survive. Frosstyth ...? Definitely worth it. "Questions are not a problem. If you ever have any, feel free to ask me." He assured her, with a slight inclination of his head.

At the awareness of being late, C'oar only nodded. Glasswork was tricky ... that much he knew. Likely, his own work was well-heated and waiting on him as well. "Another time, then." He agreed.

(sure! )

[Ruby]

((Tenlie's at the River if you want to bother her there))