Xanadu Weyr - Craft Complex
This large area has been painted a soft cream with dark orange trim used as an accent. It's separated into a variety of smaller sitting areas, couches and chairs organized into rings and squares, tables set where they can be used easily. Recessed electric lights in the ceiling provide a warm glow, and a row of angled skylights on the eastern wall above the entrance give some natural light when bleary crafters first emerge. There's often a cart with klah parked off to one side to help with waking up or finishing that important project - or simply to be enjoyed with comfortable seating and good company.
Along the southern edge, an open archway leads to a library of books and records. There's something for every craft, it seems, from tomes of caprine diseases, to Pernese history and law, to gemstone identification, to sheet music, to sea charts and herbal manuals. There's even a few works of fiction, though none of it seems very well organized. Whatever is sought, it's probably here… somewhere. A few desks for studying are tucked in amongst the shelves, each with a lamp to illuminate the reading material. Near that archway, a long table holds a row of computers. They're connected to databases all over Pern, and are available for general use except when the computercraft requires them.
To the north, a pair of double doors open onto a grand hall, the vaulted ceiling designed with acoustics in mind. This space is used for lectures and concerts, rows of benches set up to face the front. Along one wall, instruments hang free or on shelves for anyone with the appropriate skills to use. There are often harpers here, practicing their craft.
A pair of hallways lead back from the western wall, one going to the apprentice dorms and the the private quarters for the ranking crafters posted at the weyr. The other provides access to the various workshops.
After dinner brings a lull to the Craft Complex. The area is by no means vacant, but the number of people passing through has diminished from the busier parts of the day. Largely, the spaces in the complex are occupied only by those lingering to work on projects or to share quiet conversation in a comfortable setting less trafficked than the Caverns themselves. Stefyr's blond head is bent over an arrangement on one of the tables, though no others sit with him. He has a book to one side and a stack of papers to the other, pen in hand. He doesn't ever look at the book while he writes, but he seems to be taking notes or perhaps just copying things down more generally. Forgotten by one hand is a no longer steaming ceramic mug that holds over-steeped herbs in a silver-colored infuser, its chain draped down the side. There's even a small plate of forgotten pastries. (They must be forgotten since they're still there and this is Stefyr we're talking about.)
It's not that unusual to find N'on here when he's not on duty, though it's been some time since his last visit. He heads straight for the books when he arrives, without stopping to check who might be using the space. After some searching around, he emerges with several thick tomes and upon glancing around the space, he spots Stefyr and grins. Rather than interrupt the Candidate's work, he hauls his prizes over to a blank space at Stefyr's table, and begins settling in.
To the candidate's credit, Stefyr actually goes on working some minutes after N'on settles in and it's only when he pauses to set his pen aside and ease the cramps in his hands, stretching his fingers, sitting up and pressing his chest forward slightly to produce a variety of probably satisfying (or painful) pops in his upper back that his blue gaze takes in the presence of his new study buddy. "Oh," is surprise, but sluggish surprise; it's like his brain is still working on getting out of the mire of whatever he's been engrossed in. His eyes go to N'on's books, and then back to the greenrider's face. "Hey, can I interrupt you?" Obviously he can, he just did, but he probably means it more in polite sense of the request. "I wanted to ask you…" but he trails off and doesn't finish, waiting to find out the answer to the first before anything else is added on.
N'on smiles and gives a casual little wave when Stefyr finally notices him. He seems quite amused by it all, only to be mildly surprised by the request. He makes a show of closing his books and pushing them aside, folds his hands on the table, and leans forward slightly with an attentive look, showing his willingness to be interrupted by body language in lieu of anything more complicated.
Evidently whatever it is, it will be involved enough that Stefyr takes a moment to stack his pages carefully and tuck them inside his book to keep his place before setting it to the side. It doesn't stop him from picking up the pen and tapping an irregular rhythm on the tabletop, not loudly, but enough to give his hands something to do. He looks at the pen a moment, though he's good about keeping N'on in his peripheral vision in case he wants to say something more word-y. "I was thinking about the other day, in the stores, when Evangeline got there." His nose briefly wrinkles but it's not with the talk of Evangeline, but rather paired with his next statement of, "And the other, other day in the Forest, with Khavro." The pen twiddles nervously, it's definitely nervously now as the young man runs into the familiar struggle of finding the words he wants, his eyes moving to N'on more fully now that the conversation is actually underway. "Is it hard to trust someone to be your voice, however temporarily?"
N'on stares at Stefyr, nonplussed. As usual when Stefyr asks such questions, it takes him a moment to gather himself for a proper answer. He gives it the thought the question is due, and then shakes his head. Rather than attempt a signed answer, he holds up a single finger in the universal signal for 'wait', and pulls out a piece of paper and pencil. Looks like Stefyr will get a chance to practice his reading! After some time spent composing the letter, N'on hands it over, then waits patiently to give Stefyr a chance to read it. The letters are very carefully and neatly formed, which probably explains why it took a moment to write. "Not as much as you would think. Not many people sign. Those that learn either need help or want to help. But sign is tricky sometimes, so if I care about using specific words, I write them down. Sign is faster. Writing is more specific."
If this is a test, Stefyr will pass. He takes the paper from N'on and his eyes drift down the words. It's not totally a smooth thing, but it's vastly improved from his first attempt at their second meeting. "Makes sense," he allows. Tap tap tappity tap goes the candidate's pen in his still nervy hand. The other hand slides the paper back across the table he occupies with N'on. There are open seats there, books by N'on, a book and papers stacked by Stefyr. It seems the name of the after dinner occupation of both men has something to do with these items, but for now they're talking. Stefyr seems to remember his tea (cold), and small plate of pastries and he gestures to N'on in case he wants one. The young man doesn't take one up for himself though. What he does do is look long at N'on and then take a breath, "Okay. Tell me," pause, "please, what do you want from me when I translate for you?" A pause, and then he arches a brow and his lips twitch just slightly as he adds, "And tell me what I get out of it." This last is almost definitely a joke, but his expression is fairly even, so maybe, just maybe it's not. (No, it is, but there's nerves and that may have to do with this slow-burn attempt at playfulness.)
N'on gives Stefyr an amused look from his side of the table. He resorts to the paper again, and carefully writes out a note to pass back. The whole time, he wears that kind of half-smile, half-mystified look to prove that really no one has ever bothered to ask him these sorts of questions before. "Say what I sign. It's easy. You can't be worse than the Harper they assigned me at Half Moon. But if you don't want to, that's okay, too."
"Not a simplified version? Not my own interpretation?" Stefyr replies briefly affecting a much put-upon expression and letting go a fluttery, over-done sigh. "I suppose that's simple enough." He sets down his pen and folds his hands together on the table. "I want to. But I want something. I don't think it's too much to ask, but you can decide." His lips are twitching again, not managing that straight face as well as he might like. "I want to be your friend." GASP. The gall of him.
N'on rolls his eyes at all of that, and shifts back to sign now that the difficult part of the conversation is over. "If you are wrong, I'll just write it." He smirks, but winks. He manages to somehow achieve some semblance of faux solemnity as Stefyr demands that he wants 'something'. When the request is finally revealed, he gives a worried little mock-wince, and signs, "Already friends. Too late."
"Hm," Stefyr makes the sound after a flash of a big grin that gets quashed into his look of faux sobriety to match the greenrider's. "Maybe I want something else then." His fingers drum (top hand, then bottom hand and then back for another eight-count iteration, thumbs siting the gesture out). "Can I meet-?" There's that sign for Zhelinath, because, no, he still won't brave getting her name wrong. "Even as a rider intern I've ended up just with the rider rather than with their dragon. The only dragon I've really had close contact with is Leirith," and does he need to go on to explain how it might be different to meet a different dragon? Those fingers drum again. "I'm… nervous. Around them. And I'm Standing." Surely N'on can see how this would be a problem. The blond might ramble more, but he seems to catch himself verging on saying too much (or just past that point) and stops, reaching for his cold tea.
All of a sudden, that amused expression takes on a touch of sap. Oh yes, he can be as gushy as the next greenrider when it comes to his dragon. He nods quickly, and pulls back the paper to write another sentence out. "She will be pleased to meet you. You can meet lots of dragons if you want. Just start asking."
Stefyr's lips tilt at the edges. "I'd rather ask friends. I don't have many rider friends." Yet. Friends in general, possibly. "At least until I'm comfortable." His lower lip gets caught between his teeth as he visibly worries. It's let go to say, "I would also really appreciate going for a ride on her, if you and she would take me. I've only flown on Leirith, too, and that was…" He shudders and then looks apologetic for it.
A sharp exhale of breath roughly approximates a laugh from the greenrider, and he gives a thumbs up to the idea. Apparently going for a ride is totally possible! If anything, he seems charmed by being asked. "Tomorrow," he signs. "After chores."
Stefyr has a smile to answer the greenrider. "Or the next day. Or something. Risali's proddy. Which I gather does not actually mean moody and crampy like that time of the month like Rhody and Ruthien told me." He frowns vaguely. "At least Risa said…" And then he shakes his head for whatever Risa said. "It was confusing," and he still is utterly perplexed. "Anyway. It makes my work schedule sometimes strange. But we'll find time?" He inquires as a more general agreement.
N'on blinks rapidly at the news about Risali. He could probably try to correct the misconception… but he doesn't. He'll just let someone else explain that whole reality of dragons. Instead, he just waves off the problem of 'when,' and adds a thumbs up. He starts to tug one of his books back toward him, but he watches Stefyr with a questioning expression, waiting to see if he has any more questions.
There aren't more words, but there is a lop-sided smile for the greenrider as Stefyr collects his things, balancing papers and book in an arm while the pen gets tucked one of those ever-useful cargo pockets. Then the tea is balanced but the plate of pastries is nudged toward the greenrider, though he'll take one for the road himself. "Enjoy," he nods to the books, flashes another smile and heads out the tunnel that will take him nearest the candidate barracks.