Detail Oriented

Harpers' Workshop - Library

Through the labeled double doors is this spacious cavern set aside for the Harper craft. It's been completely sound proofed inside and out, but even after hours sometimes you can just pick up muffled voices in song, or instruments being practiced of someone burning the midnight oil. Inside, the large area has been divided up into several smaller places, also behind doors and have been sound proofed. A library of books and records stand upon the many shelves to the left, containing such content as music and Pernese history, law, and even sheet music. There are several access points at the long tables here for laptops to connect to data bases all over Pern, as well as to plug them in for a recharge. Long rows of chairs are pushed up against them. Silence here, is required.

Along the back wall is yet another space, and behind the double doors is a classroom for the practice of Storytelling. The chairs here are comfortable and upholstered, pillows are available as well for sitting on the floor. A projector is available for visual aid, with a white screen that pulls down should anyone need it.

The final space to the right of the entrance is likely the largest. All along the longest wall instruments hang free or on shelves for anyone of the craft to use. Guitars (both acoustic and base), flutes (including recorder and reed), violins, and lap harps. There is a few drum sets, and some standing harps as well. There are stands for music, benches for sitting, and even a corner where repair and maintenance supplies can be found.
2692.6.1 09:08:11

It is not such an early hour that the room is empty, but many of the Journeymen are off teaching the children, and the group of Apprentices studying instruments seem to be working at other things this morning, because the room is fairly quiet. A few people work busily at computers near the library section and behind the far wall's double doors is the muffled sound of someone practicing the fine art of telling stories - or at least someone taking advantage of that space for giving a lecture. Matrin is sitting in the library area with papers stacked neatly at one elbow and one more centered in front of him. If the way he reads and then jots quick notes in between sips of klah is any indication, he seems to be grading the papers in the room's relative quiet.

Xe'ter is probably a strange sight to come into the room; the young Weyrleader is not known for anything resembling more than an cursory appreciation of the Harper's craft. He's certainly not known for singing, dancing, playing an instrument, or even sitting around listening to the yarn spinning of the trained storytellers. He is, however, accompanied by his 'this means business' look, and his trusty organizer. He pauses a moment, just inside the door, and then ahs, "Harper Matrin, just the man I was looking for."

The fact that Xe'ter's voice is not familiar in this room doesn't make it generally unfamiliar, and though a quizzical expression flickers over Matrin's face as he does it, he's quick to look up. "Weyrleader," he greets with a faint but polite smile. Long fingered hands make quick work of sliding a clip onto the page he has been reading to mark his spot, and he puts the assignment back in the stack, neatly squaring it before pushing to his feet. "To what do I owe the pleasure, sir?" The question is followed up by him absently taking the stack of students work and sliding it into the square satchel he so often carries, readying himself for some task that seems upcoming.

Xe'ter uses his lanky legs to quickly span the distance between door and table, meeting the harper almost as soon as he's on his feet, "I was going back over some of the records and noticed that it's been a while since anyone took inventory of the safety procedures around the Weyr. You, of all the Harpers, are probably best qualified to give me some assistance in this." He looks around the room for a moment, "especially of the Harper's own quarters."

Matrin takes on a thoughtful look, glancing at the ubiquitous organizer in Xe'ter's hands as though it might show him some details in spite of being closed. "My first question might have to be why in the world you would be taking on that task yourself," the harper drawls. There's a mixture of vague amusement and approval in his bright eyes though, and he is quick to nod after the wry observation. "I would be more than happy to help you out with that. Do you have a list of procedures that need to be verified or…" trailing off he offers a palm. "I apologize, you were just getting to that I'm sure."

Xe'ter offers a bit of a grin, a mere flash of the dry humor behind his sometimes dour expression. "Oh no, I happened to notice the state of affairs. I've no time nor desire to see to it myself." Okay, that last might be a bit of a fib…he'd LOVE to dig around on his own. But really, he has no time. "You, however, have both the time and the skill with discussing matters with peope…and apprentices, I'm sure, you can assign to the task as well."

Since Matrin doesn't regular teach the children, his schedule is more his own. He obviously lends a hand in grading Apprentice work, but he seems to plot his own course more often than not. Which means he does have time when the Weyrleader doesn't. "It would be a pleasure to be able to assist you," he says, his own smile echoing Xe'ters in a brighter hue. "And even better than apprentices, I have a visiting student who is very good with records. Would you like me to look into things weyr-wide or just in the Crafting Complex, or Harper specific only?"

Xe'ter gestures, to the room in specific, "The Harpers at first…and create a procedure for the documentation…and then we'll proceed to the rest of the crafters from there. This is very basic…common sense, even, but it's better to have it written down, just in case. Safety concerns…like where dangerous chemicals are stored, what to do in case of a minor emergency, who to contact…where to go in case of fire, or flood, or earthsake." Great. Xe'ter's reinventing Material Safety Data Sheets and white papers on safety…just what Pern needs!

Matrin nods with each item Xe'ter lists, his expression serious and observant though there is a twitch now and then at the corners of his mouth like he's trying not to grin at the young man's earnest directions. The sparkle in his eyes is less easily quelled, but when he speaks his words are appropriately serious. "Proper use of tools, that sort of thing. Do you know if any basic documentation of this sort exists already, or will I be starting from scratch?" Even for a man who loves details and documentation this task looms large and there's an almost desperate hope buried in his question. Let's just hope Xe'ter doesn't suggest forming Pern's equivalent of OSHA to make sure everyone is abiding by these papers in a few months.

Xe'ter ahs and opens his organizer, but produces a few very old documents…they're yellow with age, and stained with klahmarks. About an inch thick. "Yes, but they are…old." And rudimentary. Probably no one's done THIS in at least a generation, and here he was making it sound like it was overlooked for a Turn or two!

Matrin eyes that stack dubiously, but at least his incredulity is well founded. "So I see," is his murmur, dry again and holding the faintest hint of Bitran drawl. "I gather then that this is important but not necessarily…" he trails off, reaching for the yellowed and stained documents. "Well, time is apparently not of the essence. I will of course devote some hours each day but I will also try to keep up with my other duties, if that's acceptable?" The last few words are spoken respectfully but without much doubt that the Weyrleader will agree. "Do you want pieces as they are completed, should I just touch base, or do you only want to hear from me when I turn in the completed project?"

Xe'ter ahs, "No, of course. Do not neglect your duties to the craft, but this is of importance to the Weyr itself. Turn it in as you complete them…and we can implement them as we go. Take the time you need, but please keep me updated."

Matrin flips idly through a few pages of the old documents, his attention to the contents casual but his fingers gentle in handling the aging paper. "Yes sir, of course. I didn't mean to imply that the task would go to the bottom of the agenda, but I do appreciate your understanding of multiple duties. I will do just as you say." And so much for making his own schedule and the time to poke into things that interest him for a while, apparently.

Xe'ter nods a bit, though he doesn't look like he'll be a particular drudge-driver on the matter. Face it, the only time the young Weyrleader's been seen to show any temper at all was over B'rdian…and his rage then was uh…yeah. Not very nice. You've probably heard tell of the words he uttered in a white-hot, ice-cold rage at the Weyrcouncil meeting!

Matrin turns half way so he can pull a sturdy folder out of that all-encompassing satchel and slip the old safety documentation into it. "Thank you for trusting me to do this, sir." He pauses for a beat, glancing over the younger man's face. "And congratulations, too. How are things, outside of the woefully lacking safety procedures?"

Xe'ter blinks a little, trying to work out why he's being congratulated. It actually takes him a few eye blinks…before he ahs a little. Right. The flight. And all. "Yes, well. Romth did well for himself again, and it was a longer flight. Perhaps we'll see more than eight eggs this time." Ahem. "And things are much better than they were when I stumbled into this postion a couple of Turns ago. The food, the relations with the other Weyrs, the weather…"

Ah yes, Matrin should have been more specific, and the flicker of chagrin across his features says as much. He is just opening his mouth to clarify when the Weyrleader gets the reference and he simply smiles instead. "So I heard. We'll all be hoping for a large, healthy clutch and a few more Turns of your great leadership. Of course I wasn't here when you first stepped into the position, but from what I can tell Xanadu is doing quite well with you and Thea at the helm." He pauses, eyes narrowing for a beat as he chooses the next words, which are spoken with a lightly joking tone. "In spite of occasional difficulties that are really out of your control."

Xe'ter smiles a touch more, "At Thea's leaership, I will admit. She's a very good weyrwoman." And that, apparently, is high praise from the quietly spoken Weyrleader.

As Xe'ter's smile deepens, so does Matrin's. But as the younger man is generally a lot more serious, the Harper's is a wider curve to begin with and remains so. "You'll hear no arguments from me on that note. It's been a real pleasure to serve under you both. And of course I'm not privy to many of the inner workings of who does what," an arch of brow hints he might like to be, but he just continues on with, "But I am certain you have a hand in the Weyr's success." A beat, and with a grin he lifts the folder. "And safety!"

Xe'ter actually manages to chuckle at that, and then allows a strange opening…as he all but confesses, "Da was training me to take the Hold for him when he died…well. Da's still about, but I had enough when I was about 15 and took off on the first ship headed for Wester…I was about ready to go back and beg forgiveness when Romth found me. So. I might as well put what training I had to some use."

Dark brows arch and Matrin's interest in this topic makes his lack of real interest in safety procedures all too clear in comparison. He turns to set the folder down and gestures toward the common room where a crackling fire and more comfortable chairs await. "Would you care to have a mug of klah with me before you head back out into the sleet?" It's a precursor to his next question which is light rather than prying, for all the keen watching in his eyes. "What Hold was it, if I can ask? And pardon me for needing to. I'm sure that's the sort of thing I should know about my Weyrleader. There should be a song." A wink makes that last at least half tease.

Xe'ter chuckles a bit, "If there's a song that celebrates Wroker's Seahold, then I'll eat my hat. I don't think we even had a harper there, till I was near onto ten."

Matrin quirks a brow and smirks. "So is that a no to the klah? And is this hat eating wager still good if there's a song about it tomorrow?" His grin is wide enough to flash straight white teeth, and he bends to shoulder his bag just in case Xe'ter takes him up on the offer to sit in the more comfortable room for a few. "And what I meant was a song about the great Weyrleader of Xanadu, not about the hold you grew up in, though it would of course be featured."

Xe'ter laughs at that more, but does finally sit down. "No, shards no. The last thing I need is a song about me. It's bad enough my name's in the teaching songs as the current Weyrleader. Romth, on the other hand, is entirely too pleased about it." He settles his rangy body down, and then notes, "And yes, I think I will have some klah."

Matrin follows the Weyrleader out into the more comfortable common area, but settles his bag near a chair instead of himself in it. "Ah, so it's Romth that I should be talking to about this composition, hmm?" Not that Matrin is any kind of composer or lyricist in actuality, but maybe Xe'ter's not aware of this. Since he's still standing he goes to fetch a pair of mugs and a mitt to pull the hot klah pot from where it hangs over the fire. He fills both cups and hands one over before dropping into the chair across from Xe'ter. "Cream or sweetener?"

Xe'ter replies, his voice softer still…as if trying to hide the underlying accent. If Matrin's of any skill with guessing THOSE, this young Weyrleader's from the back of between…somewhere on the Western Ring Islands…maybe. "Just some sweetner…haven't taken cream in my klah since I was knee high."

Matrin has a faint accent of his own that he normally hides very well, though occasionally it does peek out like a little one peeping out around his mother's skirts. And he doesn't seem to mind too much when it does. Still, it's made him interested in elocution and accents, so he's got that one pagged, as much as a rare and far off accent like that can be. All he does though is stand back up to grab a little pot of sweetener and offer it over. "So," he says idly as he retakes his seat, blowing a stream of air across the the surface of his klah. "How does Casiella fit into your island upbringing?" Forgetting that little detail just wasn't going to happen.

Xe'ter ohs a little, and then looks somewhat sheepish. "Shards. That. She were my fostermother…not that I needed one at 15, when I made it to Ierne. She laid claim t'me and didn't for the life of her let me out of her sights till I got Searched at Ista." He gets a thoughtful look…though he's a bit young to be getting nostalgic, "I'd took some marks and got on the first boat out of Wroker's…and wound up at Western right a'fore the eggs started shaking at a Hatching. I'd only seen a handful of dragons in my whole life, much less a hatching, and a girl I'd met on the docks turned out to be a Candidate…so I got into the stands and watched. Next thing I knew, there were this massive gold dragon eyeballing me and her rider informing me she was goin' to foster me. I'd never seen her before that in my life."

As that subdued accent sneaks out more and more the amused glimmer in Matrin's eyes grows too. But he doesn't comment, just sips his drink and nods along to the story. "So you went to Western, met Casiella and her gold, and they took you with them back to Ierne?" The very idea of being whisked away so soon after leaving Wroker's has him shaking his head. "And what took you to Ista then, or did they Search you at Ierne?"

Xe'ter nods a touch, as he reaches for his mug of klah…but then just holds it. "Aye. I worked out on hire with the delivery riders when they needed a spare pair of hands. Was minding my own business, waiting to see if any of them needed a job down at the main square and this bronzerider called me over. Only he didnae want a spare pair of hands. He was shovin' a white knot at me and telling me his bronze thought I were good enough to search." He chuckles, "And I wound up at Ista and the rest…is…ah. History?" He gives a wan sort of smile…but there's probably more to the whole affair than he says.

Matrin's eyes dart toward the sack resting by his feet and his fingers twitch on his mug of klah like he's itching to take notes. Luckily (or perhaps for Xe'ter that should be unluckily), he has a very good memory for this sort of thing even without a pen in hand. So instead he just nods along, taking the occasional sip of klah. "That seems downright remarkable. I didn't realize searchriders strayed so far from their own areas, but I suppose Ierne is a real hub and people visit from all over. How old were you then?"

Xe'ter chuckles a little, "Just a couple of months ere my sixteenth Turnday. I Impressed on my Turnday. An' ye do find Searchriders at Ierne. They've no sands of their own, so they're free game to the Weyrs, if they want to Search there."

"So you aren't just out of Weyrlinghood then," Matrin quips with a friendly grin that takes the edge off that supposed assumption. He taps a finger on the ceramic surface of his mug, then shifts his weight forward. With elbows to knees and hands cupping his mug, he watches Xe'ter over the rim. "So, you had had enough and you left… at fifteen. In spite of being heir to the hold. Enough of what, precisely?"

Well then…who would've expected /that/ to cause the young Weyrleader to blush! Well, actually, he /was/ just out of Weyrlinghood the first time Romth caught Seryth! But that might be math more suited for another time. "Ah…my…engagement that I'd just found out about…an' the fact that Mum snd Da'd lied to me the whole time." He taps the side of his mug with a finger tip, "They're both gingers…" His own black locks are conspicuously no where /near/ ginger in color! "And she looked like a shipfish wearing a dress. An not in a good way."

Matrin arches a brow at that rise of color and rest assured sometime in the next few minutes he'll think about that math again - and have his own flicker of chagrin. These words are more interesting though, and he frowns over them instead of the misjudged math. "They lied to you about… your heritage?" It's asked gently because if that isn't what he meant the suggestion could be taken very poorly. Still, lying plus the ginger comment (not to mention Matrin's own observations about Xe'ter and a certain foster mother) make it less of a stretch than it could be. He pauses to let out a low chuckle though, asking, "Is there a good way for a girl to look like a shipfish in a dress, then?"

"I don't think so," the bronzer allows, "And her personality was worse. And I wasnae gonna take it…or so I thought. About the time I got to Western, I'd changed my mind an' was willing to try and give it a shot, and then I've got Calanth's massive head in my face…and things havnae been exactly the same, since."

Xe'ter might not think so but Matrin's doubts are not so easily satisfied. Not that it's any of his business, but when did that ever stop a harper? Still, he lets the Weyrleader guide the conversation, chuckling by the end and lifting his mug of klah like a toast. "Or not even remotely the same, as the case may be. I for one am glad of my last several comparatively uneventful turns. And here's to a few more to come."

Xe'ter flashes a smile at that, "Aye, well…that's the most any sailor…or rider…or anyone…can really ask for. A lack of excitement. After my little trip down below into those caverns, I can say I've had enough excitement for my life…now if only others could say the same."

Matrin can only shrug. "I agree with you, sir but I know there are many who don't. And I think you've saved me from too much excitement for the next few weeks at least, with this assignment." He grins just the same, draining the last of his klah. "And I should probably get working on it sooner rather than later, or that's going to be zero excitement for the next few months." And really, it might be anyway. "It was a rare treat to get to talk to you though. We should do this more often. Maybe with wine, or beer or something, next time."

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