The Harpers (open)

[silver18]

Blinking bright eye's Chehero's head danced from left to right as she shifted the instruments in her hands from one side to the other. It was rather late afternoon early evening when the young Harper was scurrying down the hallway. Most if not all the faces were still unfamiliar to her, as she had only just arrived the previous week to the weyr. Finding a seat off to the side the young girl smiled brightly, there was her chance. Taking the seat placing down her instrument, Chehero's mind drifted lightly away from her current position as she ran her fingers through her loose hair.

It was a stroke of luck she had been sent to the Weyr, she was here to help the current Harper, who she had yet to meet. And fulfill all the rest of the Harper duties, which were plenty and time consuming. The only breaks she got happened to be the quickly approaching mealtimes. Then she would have to rush off and finish making the last of the drums she had been repairing. A slight tapping noise brought her back from the thoughts of luck and chores to face a rather strange person standing before her. Feeling a little out of place Chehero quickly apologized before gathering up her things to free room for the man.

[Requiem]

Odd when there was no Elysia to wake up to. Must be busy playing war games with her wing again...or stalking his friends. Really, the woman could be such a creeper sometimes. Dmitri wandered out of the weyr he shared with the woman over ten turns his senior, sleepily tugging the gloves up to his elbows before pulling his sleeves down to cover them. People found deformed limbs rather offensive, after all, not sure whether to look away or not and were awkward about what they said. One glove would just look weird. So then, now the only awkward thing visible were the weblike burn scars spanning the right half of his face, and those...were not too bad. Even interesting rather than grotesque to some. Not that Dmitri understood really how they could be interesting, but why complain?

After snagging a piece of toast - the rest would come later now that the drudges knew he was here, because Dmitri refused to eat dinner upon waking up - the harper wandered the tables looking for a familiar face when he noticed...well there was a pretty one. Hm. Toting around an instrument and wearing harper knots. How curious. He hadn't heard about the Hall sending another. Eikane would have to be kicked later for being such a poor messenger. Stopping, the sixteen-turn-old frowned slightly, trying to place her, but though her face seemed familiar she definitely wasn't someone he'd had much contact with, because he was drawing a blank. (Not that she'd likely recognize him without the ridiculously long hair, all the burn scars and the extra four inches anyway, even if they had known each other. The femininity in his appearance was all but gone now.)

"Always go around so laden? Or are the locks on the doors not working again?" he commented off-handedly, nodding to her instrument. The hand with the toast waved negligently at her apology and movements. "Don't worry about it. Could sit across from you just as easy..." Which he did so she didn't have to hold the instrument in her lap. "Harper Hall sent you? No one told me about it. Quite unsporting of them." Crisp Fort accent, the harper had, even after over a turn in the south. "Though I suppose they're none too pleased with our Impressing to whers here..." he mused aloud. "Dmitri. Your name?"

[silver18]

Chehero fumbled with her instrument, blinking up at a face she didn't recognize. Her eyes danced over him, she had expected to meet strange people at the Weyr. Not that strange wasn't all that unusual considering the change in location from Hall to Weyr. Everything here was strange to her, the routine the sticky doors, the faces, and the courtesy people showed her was different here too. Responding to the waved piece of toast as the man sat down opposite her. Chehero relaxed her shoulders, shifting the instrument back into its former place before letting her eyes dance towards the strange man again.

There were some knots on him she was all to familiar and again very lucky to come across. Putting forth a half smile as the man spoke Chehero nodded slowly. " Dinner... soon... Play... Chehero." For a moment her face twisted into confusion before she cleared her throat ready for a second attempt to respond. "Sorry." She apologized. "The instrument is for dinner's ballads and songs tonight." Shifting her feet to cross in front of one another Chehero she nodded slowly at the mention of the Hall.

"I was sent here a little under a week ago." Chehero admitted lightly. "They said their previous Harper needed help." Bitting her tongue she paused lightly. This was the Harper they spoke of? This was who she was supposed to meet sometime along the way. Luck really was with her today! Fully smiling she rummaged through her pockets to produce a letter. "It's great to finally meet you Dmitri, my name is Chehero. I have a letter from the Hall showing my transfer here to the Weyr. I hope you wont mind." Pulling the paper strait she bent forward to off the letter.

[Requiem]

He could have possibly been more helpful about her fumbling, but the teenager's elbow had come to rest on the table as he finished the last of the piece of toast, the boy's cold blue-greys keen on Chehero as he stared at her with open curiosity, just a touch of humor to the set of his lips that had a mocking edge to it. Definitely amused that she couldn't seem to string a coherent sentence together, if nothing else. Ah, now that made sense. He nodded slightly at her explanation.

Oh! Wait, wait, wait. A hand came up in a clear negation. "There are actually three of us, and he's not really 'previous' so much as overworked. Emoyan. The candidatemaster is the one you need to talk to. I'm the baby here." He smiled ingenuously. "Probably play circles around me, Hero. You don't mind if I call you that, do you? Most of the harpers do. Play circles around me, I mean, not call you Hero. At least that I know of." Clearly, Dmitri had inherited the stereotypical harper's gift of gab, or at least general social disposition. The young man wasn't particularly friendly in the usual sense of the word. He mocked and teased quite often, and few people were better at being a smartass - and annoying - than he, but he certainly was sociable. "You've got to stop with all those sorries, though. I'm quite amused by you, actually. Been awhile since a girl's been all tongue-tied around me. And mistaken me for anything but a run-of-the-mill supporting journeyman of questionable skill. I've hit the jackpot tonight."

It was then that a drudge interrupted them to place down a tray of food clearly meant for breakfast, Dmitri flashing her a smile that was both grateful and dismissive at once. The woman quickly vanished and he set about peeling one of the fruits. "So, I take it you haven't met Emoyan yet? And you've been here a week? The candidates must be rowdier than usual...to hear it told, he used to be a lot more outgoing before he lost his blue, but you'd still thinking he'd break his hermitdom long enough to investigate a new harper come to Weyr. Curious." Then, because he was really only courteous when it suited him, the boy nodded toward the instrument. "So, tell me honestly. You any good?" She was a journeyman, so obviously she had the knack, but there still was a vast difference between a good musician at that rank and just an average one.

[silver18]

Blinking back surprise Chehero flushed pulling back the papers. She had been wrong, maybe luck really wasn't all on her side right now after all. Emoyan, she would have to remember that name for later. Tucking it at the back of her mind she fumbled with the papers getting them back into her pocket embarrassed. She should have known better, but her hopes were high. To high. Bowing her head with apology, Chehero was quite taken aback at a complement of being better than another Harper. She herself didn't believe she was any good -after spending so long at the Hall- But at the thought of pulling up the instrument and playing she was almost eager.

She smiled awkwardly as the drudge left watching her back as she moved away to kitchens again. "No, I haven't met Emoyan I feel rather behind on duty that way." She quietly admitted her eyes snapping back to the young man. Fingering the instrument she picked it up, there was the invitation to play. Taking a deep breath to relax herself she broke out into a smooth warm ballad. A short one so as not to bore the guest.

[Requiem]

Looking as if she were slapped. He found the expression curious, though it should have been familiar; the politics and intrigues - the essence - of Fort Hold seemed like a distant dream these days. Neither was Dmitri much of a dreamer. He watched her catch up her instrument, heard the familiar beginning strains and let a small smile touch his face. Her playing was, in fact, better than his with that instrument. And he had no hope of ever catching her, now, with his dominant hand reduced to a shadow of its former usefulness. He had his own instrument, of his own design, but that was another matter. (So young a journeyman was not without his talents.) It didn't take him long to assess that her voice was her primary asset, and a woman whose only exceptional ability at the Hall was her voice - would not rise quickly. Which matched her age well enough. The sharp mind behind the cold blue/grey's continued its assessment, while Dmitri lifted his voice to twine with hers in a harmony line that was his own and not the accepted form of the ballad.

Soft baritone underscoring the exquisite sweetness of her singing.

Dmitri's playing was lesser than hers, and his voice no more the sweet purity of a boy's, though the pitch and timing remained precise to the smallest detail. But he was male, and his art lay in his mind...a skilled manipulator, diplomat and political swimmer, with a true gift for composition, his knots were earned, truly. Not that many knew such upon meeting him. He preferred to maintain his secrecy. As the ballad faded, he smiled at the girl again. "The candidate barracks. There, you'll find him easily enough. And you must, if only so my breakfasts will be more lively; look, they have not heard playing here in quite awhile." He nodded toward the silent, curious faces of the many who had stopped their conversations to listen.

[silver18]

Faltering with her notes not with her voice but with her instrument when she was joined by Dmitri in song, Chehero closed her eyes to concentrate harder on maintaining proper tune. Now that she had been confused and slightly off balanced by the unfamiliar undertone matching her own. He was defiantly trained his voice proof enough, as she came close to the end of their small duet she reopened her eyes. Her fingers still finding the way around the song on habit rather than anything else.

It had taken her months of hard work and training to become as good as she was on the instruments. They weren't natural to her and so she took her time to learn them, each ballad and saga she learned she had to memorize her way through. Even that took its slow time with her as a simple offset would send her playing out off tune quickly and most often for the full length of the song. Though she had gotten better at overcoming the obstacle, Chehero still struggled quite a bit with her faults.

As they finished their song Chehero beamed, she had made it through the song with being offset and not erring on tune. Secretly proud of herself she listened quietly as instructions on how to find Emoyan were given. Who would have thought a Harper to be the candidate master at the same time. No wonder they had sent for another Harper. When he nodded in the direction of the curious listeners Chehero flushed. She had been so accustomed to not being heard around the hall it was almost alien to her for other people to be listening as they did now.

Bowing her head she wondered if she should start into another ballad. Sure enough her new acquaintance might join in again, she would have to prepare for that. Pulling the instrument up again she started once more into another ballad.

[kat]

Maya hadn't been sleeping well as of late. She supposed it had started after Jingth's flight. Jingth's flight had served to remind her just how long she had actually been here. Just how many clutches she had stood at and been left standing at since that first one; where ironically it was Jingth who had given her the four, parallel scars on her hip. The thought was unsettling and against her better nature she had begun to wonder if she would ever actually Impress at all. As she headed towards the dining hall her thoughts were full of these kinds of things. She knew she ought not be a pessimist. She enjoyed her life here at Selenitas. If she didn't Impress she could continue towards her Mastery as a Dragonhealer. It wasn't the do all, end all. She also had a constant companion in Zexion. The bronze Salamandyr was pretty sharding near her best friend here.

She entered the dining hall and looked around. Dinner was just now being served. She could recognize most of the people in the Weyr now by face if not by name. It really had been a while that she'd been here, hadn't it? She didn't have long to muse over this though. A voice broke the quiet--and sometimes not so quiet--atmosphere of the hall. It was accompanied by an instrument and, moments later, by another voice. Her eyes found the two who were singing a duet and she recognized Dmitri. The bluehandler had spent more than his fair share of time in the Infirmary. After the incident where he'd been burned he had been back in after a feline attack. Since she spent a portion of every day in the Infirmary she at least knew a little about the young man.

She drifted over and lightly clapped appreciatively when the pair were done. She didn't recognize the girl who sat with him. A new face could mean a visitor or a newcomer to the Weyr. She had overcome her social awkwardness in the past two turns. Selenitas was her home now and working at her post in the Infirmary she had met so many of the Weyrfolk and talked to so many people--and dragons--that conversation came easily to her now. She smiled warmly at the pair and pulled out a chair across from Dmitri.

"That was quite nice, you two," she acknowledged, then to Chehero, "I don't believe we've met. I'm Maya." She held out a hand to the younger girl and nodded politely to Dmitri. Even through the scarring and disfigurement the young man had stayed rather the same. She could appreciate that kind of solidity. While her hand was outstretched she regarded him with a small smile and asked, "how have you been, Dmitri--you and Dmisk both?" Of course like with any rider, it was polite to inquire about a handler's wher. She found it easier to remember a person's wher because they always shared part of their bond's name. Plus they all ended in 'sk' just as dragon names ended in 'th'. Strange, the way that had worked itself out. Whers fascinated her. There was no 'Wherhealer' craft. Dragonhealers were relied on to heal the dragonkin just as they were firelizards. She had seen her fair share of the creatures and her interest in them had certainly not waned.

[Requiem]

Oh, it wasn't the nicest thing he could have done, Dmitri knew, as his eyes narrowed on the girl. She looked so nervous, and he'd noticed that heart's beat of a falter, the slight waywardness of the tempo and the shiver in pitch that only someone with perfect pitch might have noticed. (It was more of a curse than a boon, truly, especially when forced to sing with a large group. Like to drive you mad, listening to the man to one side pulling a touch flat and the one behind airing sharp.) Nevertheless, it had to be better than the first impulse, which was to reach out and take a breast in hand, just to see if the little mousey girl reacted. She'd hardly said a word, all tremulous smiles and wide-eyed staring at this, that and the other. Perhaps he'd been in the south too long; all the mice thought themselves lions, here.

Yes, joining his voice to hers again definitely had to be better than molesting her. Even if he did choose a harmony she would never have heard, and even words this time that were not part of the ballad. A commentary, almost, mocking the song, but only if you listened to it keenly, for the words had that dry sarcasm that went over so many heads. The girl likely would not be listening so close, struggling to keep her line. He amused himself by trying to guess where it would break. As the song drew to a close, he flashed a wry smile at the dragonhealer they'd drawn. Dmitri was a man of wry smiles, impish grins, and smirks...It wasn't entirely his fault, either, with the burns that had hardened his face in places. It was far more mobile than it should have been, but not the same, no, and there was always a faint upwards turn to the right side of his lips from muscles drawn tight. The cold humor of his blue-grey eyes only added to the sense of mocking he couldn't banish. Nor wished to, truly; it matched his personality well enough.

"I've suffered no more mishaps, accident-prone as I may seem, if that's what you mean," he commented easily. "Keep the fire and dragons away, and Dmisk and I might actually live long enough to be called old." His eyes narrowed, and his voice ratcheted up the level of teasing. "Now that you cruel jailors have released your prisoner, he's not nearly so restive, though he's taken to purging 'his' territory of the feline menaces with a vengeance. You wouldn't think he had another thought in his head. Fortunately, he sleeps now, or he might well march himself right up to this table and drag me out by the nearest limb." Oh, yes, Dmitri found it highly amusing that his blue had claimed the surrounding lands as his own, at least in the dark hours. He and his brother ruled the night, golden sister and pretty bronzes be damned. Dmisk would have Eikask as his consort, too, if he simply wasn't blue; Dmitri did not miss which way her affection aired. Not one to be told he must bow and scrape to the metallics, clearly. And the golds, dam and sister alike, rushed to his defense when the fool dragon tore into him by mistake. Highly amusing indeed.

His smile turned back to Chehero, and his words were gentler, in part because she seemed so mousey it simply wouldn't be fair, assaulting her delicate sensibilities. "She hardly introduces herself properly. This is Maya, a journeyman dragonhealer of considerable skill. Between her and the Weyrdragonhealer, they can repair a wher riddled with burns and shredded to bone by dragon claws, such that only scars are left to tell the tale. Would that I was so lucky with my own injuries." A one-shouldered shrug. He was not clumsy with his left hand, no longer, at least not in the basic task of feeding himself, but a careful eye could readily see there was something not quite natural about how that arm moved. Right-handed, the harper was. Only it worked for him no longer, not in fine motor skills. At least his fingers would bend. Small boons.