Artist's Musings (Averil is Searched)

Xanadu Weyr — Workshops
Some crafts are ill-suited to being tucked away in a cavern, too loud or too dangerous to be desirable. They've been clustered here, out in the meadow away from others. The central building is made of stone and glass, the roof shallow as it slopes away from the thick central ridge that holds forges and kilns for smiths, glassworkers, and others.
The smith forges are loud, dim and hot; windows here are covered with soot or have been replaced for safety. The large common area holds the main forge lodged against the central wall, with bellows at the ready and a chimney rushing high to open in the ceiling outside. This is the area that the apprentices are taught in and are able to use. The nearby wall clasps a vast and unspecialized collection of tools, while the built-in shelves of another wall host jars of nails, crates of wood and metal scraps, spools of wire, sacks of sand, and heavy bins of Cromcoal, all decorated with a fine coating of grime and sawdust. To the other side of the main forge, set against the outer wall, there are separate forges for Journeyman and Master use, each one kept clean and neat, even when in the midst of a project.
Further back there are heating systems and molds for metal and plastic alike, and a set of machines used to grind gears and cast various parts. There's a pump to bring up water for quenching, though it won't stay cool for long given the heat this workshop holds even in winter.
On the other side of the broad central wall is the glass shop, brightly lit through the heat-resistant fixtures and many windows that show off the skills of the crafters of Xanadu Weyr. That central wall and the one opposite it are both lined with kilns and glass forges for the glasscrafters to do their work. The portion of the room near the main entrance seems to be devoted to teaching, as a number of mobile diagram boards have been erected there with desks arranged in semicircles around each. The central portion of the room serves as the production area, with barrels of sand and various additives arrayed beside several long tables and charts, and finally, the back wall is made up almost entirely of cabinets and storage shelves.
There are other workshops scattered nearby, smaller buildings for the various other crafts that are better suited to be where the wind sweeps out over the sea and carries fumes and smoke with it or for those who need to catch their breath after the din of the forges.

When working on sketches for all male cheesecake playing cards one needs to be creative in their dealing with models. In this case, Avi has settled outside the workshops, neatly tucked on a relatively high stack of barrels for the very best vantage point on the smiths. With his skirt neatly tucked around his legs, a skin of water to his left and his satchel to his right, he is chewing his lip as he alternates between looking at his subject, a shockingly (jaw droppingly) burly fellow with no shirt and more muscles then can possibly be decent, and his sketch pad. Mind you, there is a lot more staring at those muscles then sketching at the moment, only because.. Hey, SIZE DOES MATTER, OKAY? Never mind the fact that he's about as red as it is possible to get. He's high up and, as yet, unnoticed.

There’s a few lessons to learn here, but the largest takeaway here is never be distracted around the forges. For the obvious reasons, of course! And also because while most don’t mind a (quiet) observer from a distance, someone’s attention will be drawn for more —nefarious— reasons that passive interest! Is it any surprise that it’s Ru’ien who ghosts his way up as close to Averil’s —perch— seat, craning his head a little to peer over the young artist’s shoulder. “He’s a right piece of eye candy, isn’t he?” the greenrider sighs wistfully, expression equally as besotted (okay, that’s probably a mimic). Don’t mind him, as he just casually leans, dressed in Craft-appropriate attire. Apron and all! There’s even gloves folded in one hand and his hair is largely braided in varying sections while all twisted up and tied behind his head. He can’t be faboulous every day, but even grimy from work he almost pulls it off.

Averil yelps as he jumps, the sketchpad juggled for a few seconds before landing solidly in Averil's lap. The moment that it is safe Avi is laughing, the glance he slants up to Ru'ien's face a mixture of admiration and embarassment. "I.. can definitely see the appeal of the smithy," he admits as he slants a glance back at his subject. "I wonder if I could convince him to take off his pants." Pausing a beat, he flushes scarlet and adds quickly. "So I can see his thighs!" Which is promptly followed with. "To sketch!" It is only belatedly that he takes in Ru'ien's attire, his head tilting to the side as he sweeps his gaze the length of the greenrider's body. "You should bring that with you when you sit for me next." Smiths. Who knew? Course, he's handing Ru'ien the sketchpad a moment later, his chin tilting toward the myriad skethes of the fellow in question. "I was thinking for one of the Knights. For the playing cards, not night, nights."

Ru’ien’s mouth curves into a roguish slant for Averil’s predictable reaction and he eats it all up. He can be forgiven, right? Right. There’s a deep, rolling laugh for the artist’s continued fumbling, tongue running briefly over his teeth as he struggles not to grin like an idiot. By SOME MERCY, it’s too loud in here for comments to drift, which is massively disappointing for the greenrider. He’d have loved to see everyone squirm a little for it! —he’s an ass, folks— “Mhm, you and about half the women in Xanadu.” He’s not quite done there, tilting in a little closer to hush-hush and gruff whisper with a note of disappointment. “Such a shame he’s already taken, hmm?” POP goes that bubble? Straightening, he looks down at himself, then quirks a brow as he peers up at Averil. “You might change your opinion once you can smell me.” LISTEN. It’s true, okay? Trying to wipe his hands hastily clean (it’s an effort in vain here), he’ll delicately do his best to hold the sketchpad and not smear it. “I’d say that’s fitting.” Does Ru’ien even have any idea what a ‘knight’ but not-night nights are? Probably not. “Guard-like? Hired muscle?” Snicker. He’ll definitely appreciate some of the sketches, at least!

There is no question that Averil would forgive Ru'ien, there is very little that the greenrider could do that the artist would not happily forgive. Mind you, that does not stop Avi from flushing scarlet, or from ducking his head (nevermind that he is definitely sneaking peeks back at the aforementioned thighs) at the sound of his companion's laughter. It's the whisper that has Avi nearly choking, his eyes widening as he snaps a look back at the smith and promptly floundering visibly. "I don't want him like that.. Naked, yes, but on my dias." Pause. "To draw!" And he knows Ru'ien knows that which only makes him more flustered. It's the sudden left turn into smells that has him grinning, his head giving a firm shake. "I spend almost every morning in the stables with Shiloh. And sweaty men smell wonderful." It's true, OKAY? With the sketchpad taken, he scoots closer, his chin dipping in a firm nod. "Like.. A Steward, in the Holds suit in dragon poker?" he provides. "I thinking the Steward should be big burly men? You know, the sort the Lady Holder would feel safe around?" Because clearly, playing cards have feelings. "I am still working out who I want to be your Lord Holder, though."

“Of course!” Ru’ien quips as he interjects with falsely-sweet tones of agreement. “To draw.“ He can’t help but —torture— tease the young artist just a little further before letting the conversation naturally twist away. Averil’s commentary has him laughing again with an incredulous shake of his head. Oh, darling~ No. (granted, he’s not entirely wrong) “It’s not the sweat I was referring too and — really, the smell of a stable doesn’t get to you?” Way to tangent there, Ru. He scoffs a bit, then shrugs. Eh, to each their own? “I meant the other smells — I guess there’s not enough of it going on today but believe me, there’s some stuff worked with that gets to you. I don’t know anyone who’d find it particularly aromatic in a ‘ooh, yes, how attractive‘, sense!” Does he put on a little show there at the end? Of course he does, affecting his tone to a breathless tilt, complete with expressive gestures of his hands and features. Then he dissolves into a fit of deep chuckles. “Is that a thing? Or something from those romance stories? And I’m sure you’ll find the right match~ Plenty of fish in the proverbial sea, so to speak!” No names, Ru’ien? For shame. Withholding like that! He’ll purse his lips in the next moment, casting a glance back to the forges as he muses over something. “Y’know, Kihatsuth has been sorely disappointed she hasn’t yet had the pleasure of meeting you.”

Romance novels -do- provide Avi with a great deal of inspiration, a fact made clear when he flashes a cheeky smile at the suggestion. "There are some I have that are very risque," he points out. "You'd enjoy them. There's one about a Lord Holder's son and a pirate that is…" Trailing off, he fans his face and gives a dramatic little swoon. "And I did the cover for that. Smells, though, don't really bother me," he admits as he turns his gaze back toward the workshops. "There's something a little acrid in the air, but.." He can ignore it easily enough. It is the mention of the stables, though, that has his smile broadening. "Shiloh occassionally bales hay without a shirt. I assure you /that/ makes any scents that might be there worthwhile." It is the last that has him tilting his head, the waterskin opened and a long swallow taken before he offers it to Ru'ien. "Oh," is murmured to the last. "We haven't met, have we? I just assumed she had to be busy doing… dragon things." Because clearly dragons have to have a lot to do. "I'd love to meet her, though, whenever she is in the mood."

Cheeky smile earns a wry grin from Ru’ien and a lighter scoff, “I’ll take your word for it, unless you were just offering to let me borrow the books?” He’s assuming, here, that Averil has his own copies! There’s more amusement for the little display the young artist puts on, followed by another shrug and helpless spread of his hands. He finds it odd that the artist is unaffected by the acrid smells — but maybe Ru’ien deals more with people with more sensitive senses? “Careful now,” he can’t help but go in for the tease again, lips twisting into a playful smirk. “No one likes a braggart~” Never mind that the greenrider brags (sarcastically) all the time! Ru’ien waves off the offered waterskin, pushing off from where he was leaning and tucking his gloves into a pocket on his apron. “Well!” His hands clasp together, to emphasize the abrupt exclamation. “Why don’t we fix that? I need a break anyhow~” Stepping away, Ru’ien will make a ‘follow me’ gesture next, all while grinning —wolfishly— broadly as he fixes him with a look. “Just so happens she’s not doing…” Snicker. “…dragon things.” Once he’s certain Averil is following, he’ll turn to lead them out of the workshops and to the meadow.

"I am," Avi admits. "You'll enjoy them." He's utterly confident of that fact. Course, he's laughing softly as he gathers up the sketchpad and his charcoal and tucks them away in his satchel. "I'm learning from the best," he notes with a flashing wink for the greenrider on the matter of bragging. Slinging both the satchel and the waterskin over his shoulders, he hops down from his perch, quick stepping a few beats until he can fall in behind Ru'ien. Course, now, he's engaging in flights of fancy regarding 'dragon things', there is just so much he can picture dragons doing to entertain themselves. Never mind that /none/ of those things are at all realistic, probable, or even remotely possible. The moment they are in the meadow, though, he draws in a deep breath of the fresh air, his head lolling to crack his neck.

As they both turn to leave, there might be some relief from Big and Burly Smith over there (or not). Surely the last glance Ru’ien gives to the direction of the forges is a checking sweep and not a teasing wink to the other Crafter while Averil is focused elsewhere. Then he’s stepping outside with the young artist, effectively leading a proverbial lamb to slaughter — okay, so it’s not quite that. One could get the feel for it though, given Kihatsuth is certainly there and waiting for them (at a distance, for best visual effect). She is a large —beast— lady, power lining every muscled curve of her frame — especially those haunches! Perched and displaying herself with avian-esque leanings, a dragon cannot smile but there is the distinct feeling that she is. Predator-like! Her head swivels Averil’s way, canted just-so in a surprisingly expressive movement. It matches the way she unfurls her wings in a seemingly-idle ruffle, quickly pinned back against her sides as she —floats— inches forwards. More unsettling is the clicking sound of her talons, long and wickedly curved that move in a thoughtful tap-tap movement when she isn’t in motion. Ru’ien’s come to a stop, turning half towards the young artist, keeping a sidelong glance on the advancing green. “Averil, meet Kihatsuth~” Kiha,” Spoken in a tone that suggest there’s a behave command lurking there. LIKE SHE’D LISTEN. PFFT. “Averil. Go on~” She’s relatively harmless, Avi! Ru’ien’s just going to step back a little. —the jerk—

Avi remains completely oblivious to the exchange with the other crafter, doing his level best to keep up with Ru'ien's considerably longer stride. And while he's seen plenty of dragons in his life, being introduced to them is another matter entirely. It is the sight of impressively large green that has him reaching up to fuss with his hair, a few stray strands tucked behind his ears. It's only proper, after all, given it is a first meeting and she is so very important to someone he considers a mentor of sorts. He's captivated, though, with her movement, one hand drifting unconciously toward his satchel although he doesn't actually pull out his pad and charcoal. It's the click of talons that has that motion halted, mist grey eyes flicking toward them before darting up to the dragon's face and the over to Ru'ien's. Fortunately, manners are something that are ingrained in him and he's immediately bobbing his head and offering a warm smile at the introduction. "It is very nice to meet you, Ma-" Nope, wrong, Avi. "Kihatsuth." That there is that mysterious tone in Ru'ien's words? It's enough to have him giving a mild shift-step to the side before he's being urged closer. It's the up and close and personal part of it all that holds his attention, though, careful steps forward taken as he rests his hand on the satchel and affords the dragon a warm smile.

Hello, dearie~ Kihatsuth’s implied grinning intensifies and there’s certainly a hint and flash of teeth in that mental visage; though physically, nothing so much as changed. She’ll tilt her head in another angle, crooning from deep in her throat and chest. « My, my! » Poor Averil. Was he ready for the mental brush against his thoughts? It’s just her —disembodied— voice! Not too shocking, right? A voice that is young maiden and crone, a rise and fall of velvet tones and purred inflections and just as expressive as the rest of her. « Aren’t you just adorable! How kind. The pleasure is all mine. Us artists must stick together! Who else to understand us? » Those talons of her go clicking again, as she prowls a few more inches forwards — in fact, one foot is eerily extending forwards with one of those very talons. She would have likely reached the hem of that skirt Averil’s reaching, had Ru’ien not —rudely— politely stepped in at that point. With his back to the green, it’s only Averil who’ll pick up on the sudden lines of agitation in her posture, the way her foot draws back in an affronted manner. SO RUDE! He must’ve overheard (or guessed) at the exchange, as he gives the young man a long suffering look. “I don’t want her snagging your skirt, it’s a nice one. Isn’t it, Kiha?” That just earns a snort. Spoil sport! « Oh fine, just get on with it! » Kihatsuth is going to go sulk (falsely) over THERE! Hmph.

Avi was not ready for that. Avi was not ready for that, at all. And for a moment, he actually manages to convince himself that he's indulging in a flight of fancy. Course, it goes on and when it becomes clear that there is no way he is imagining it, his eyes widen and his smile grows the more she 'speaks'. So much so that he forgets he's talking to a dragon and takes another step, or two, closer to her. "Oh! That's right, Tejra told me you were an artist. I'd love to see your work," he admits without really considering what sorts of art a dragon might indulge in. It's Ru'ien stepping in that has him blinking once, his brows furrowing mildly. "She's right you know, very few people really understand the mind of an artist. It's like… We just paint with too many colors for others to grasp." It's Kihatsuth's affront that has him immediately concerned, his chin tilting down as he glances at his skirt. "She can touch it, I have others." He really doesn't mind, although he has no idea if he should mind. Mind you, now he is confused, and more then a little concerned that he somehow insulted Kihatsuth. Still he turns his attention up to Ru'ien, or tries to, his eyes are definitely flicking between the two. "What kind of art does she do? Has she seen your painting?"

“Don’t encourage her!” Ru’ien’s whispered aside to Averil is both genuine warning and marred by his withheld chuckling. Kihatsuth ‘whirls’ around as much as a green dragon her size can, talons clicking and shallowly furrowing the ground where she’s dug in for purchase for her antics. « I heard that! » she snaps with out heat, implied smirk chasing her quip. Her wings ruffle and twitch, while her tail coils about her feet, her head moving in small increments to further her motions. « Don’t fret! » —Pet— This, of course, to Averil again. « You will just have to visit me again. You’ll have more reasons to, now! » A low, rich laugh echoes now, rising to a fading cackle as the green spreads her wings and abruptly launches skywards. The blowback from her sweeping wings will have Ru’ien reaching up to keep the worst of it from pulling his hair free (or showering his face in grit, ugh). Once the coast is clear, he gives a long suffering sigh and brushes himself off. “Well, that was that!” What was it that Averil was asking? Ru’ien blinks as moment, backtracking as he regroups. “Oh, she’s seen it through my eyes many times!” As for her art? He smirks, “You have to have a strong stomach to see it.” The physical approximations of “art” anyhow. Mentally? He’s not going there today. “So, listen.” IT’S A TRAP, AVI! RUN. “Kihatsuth’s gone and staked claim and while I didn’t think I’d ever be roped into this,” It’s not his preferred jam! “I’d better do it before she colourfully describes what she’ll do to anyone else who tries.” Awkward yet, Avi? “Think you’d be up for Standing, as a Candidate for Leirith’s recent clutch? It’s not half bad, the experience!” Not half bad, he says!

There is something jaw dropping about seeing a dragon take flight right in front of you. Literally, right in front of you. It is enough that Avi's head tilts back, pale eyes taking in every nuance of muscle and bone as the massive green launches herself into the air. That? That will definitely find it's way into his sketch pad. "Wow." The word is uttered to accompaniment of Kihatsuth's cackling, his attention remaining on her until she is well out of sight. That his hair is in disarray is something that he utterly fails to notice, his lips twitching in a smile that is nothing short of pure whimsey. "I wonder if she'd let me paint you posing with her," he muses. Course, it's promptly followed with him looking curiously at Ru'ien. "She doesn't mind nudity does she?" Course, Ru'ien is speaking— Avi knows this cause his mouth is moving- but for a few long moments he can't quite wrap his mind around what the greenrider is saying. "Hrm? Standing?" What? When it clicks, and it does eventually click, he blinks a few times and slants a glance in the direction Kihatsuth had gone. "Me?"

“Dragons have no understanding of nudity or anything remotely like modesty to them, Averil.” Ru’ien can help but laugh the entire time he’s (poorly) explaining it. “You’re likely to offend people by painting a nude rider and their dragon than anything!” Which means that he’s probably considering the idea seriously. All for that shock and awe, right? He’ll be kind enough to sober his amusement, even if Averil is predictable in his surprise and incredulousness. “Yup! You.” (un)LUCKY DAY FOR YOU~ “I’ll deal with her threats of artfully skinning me or rearranging my spine, but — you don’t got to rush into it, Avi. I think so long as you’re talking to the Headwoman by nightfall, it’ll be fine? If you want to think about it. I’ll let them know to expect you.” Or not.

Averil's mind is whirling more then enough to make it very hard to focus on anything. He's thinking, that much is clear from the teeth worrying at his lower lip and the furrowing of his brow. "I would like to," he admits finally. "I've never had the chance to get that close to eggs before." Of course, later, he's going to worry about how dangerous it all could be. "I have to talk to Shiloh, and my superiors and make sure it is all right." Again, his mind all over the place, his head giving a tiny shake. "I don't care about offending people. I mean, I /do/, but not.. not artistically." Cause his art is his art and that is just that. Mind you, it is /hard/ not to get more distracted by the thought of Ru'ien affecting a comehither pose on Kihatsuth while gloriously nude. Hard enough that, for a moment or two, he indulges in imagining a variety of potential poses. Eventually, though, he is back in his head— or out of it as the case may be, his chin dipping in a quick nod to Ru'ien. "Thank you. I mean, I.. Yes, thank you. Please thank Kihatsuth for me, as well?"

Ru’ien’s smirk holds a grim amusement and understanding, “It’s a memorable experience — and not just touching the eggs.” There’s a small incline of his own head, blue eyes observing the young artist but showing no outward signs of his thoughts; aside from that returning grin of his. He’s chalking up the wandering focus to the staggering life-altering change he’s just inflicted and not so much artistic musing. There’s a dismissive gesture to the thanks and a low chuckled: “She knows.” How? He doesn’t divulge that information, but rather purses his lips in a wry manner. Voices from within the workshop, though distant, drag him back to his own reality — and that he should probably get back to his work. “Hey, I gotta get back? But,” Ru’ien will reach to clasp his (not-so grimy) hand to Avi’s shoulder in a quick, reassuring squeeze. “Take the time to think it over. Talk to whoever you gotta and don’t think we won’t forgive you if you change your mind.” Pause and then a broader grin and a wink. “Well, I’ll forgive you! You’ll have to go into hiding until she forgets the whole thing ever happened~” Pat-pat! That hand now lifts in a mocking half salute, half wave as he begins to step away. “Don’t be a stranger, eh?”

Averil is still in the midst of trying to process everything, his chin giving a quick little nod at the hand on his shoulder. "Of course." Mind you, what he is agreeing to is not something he is entirely sure of himself. It is only the mention of Ru'ien having to get back to work that has him shaking himself out of the state he is in, another nod given as he straightens his satchel on his shoulder. "I won't be," he assures. "We have to arrange for your next sitting." And, while he does glance back toward the workshop, his step is not toward it, but back from it. "I should.. I have to.. Things." Things. He has things he has to do before he can even consider going to the headwoman, at all. "Thank you, again," he adds before turning on his heel and darting off.

Ru’ien just tips his hand in a more genuine farewell, along with an incline of his head. “Good luck!” he shouts at the retreating form of Averil darting away from him. Then there’s a heavy exhale, a slight shake of his head and he’s promptly squaring his shoulders. Back to the daily grind! He’s itching more now to finish his ‘work’ and find what entertainment he can to unwind in his particular fashion tonight.

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