Logs:Creative Influence
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| RL Date: 17 June, 2016 |
| Who: Quint, T'gar |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Quint is teaching a lesson; T'gar plays nice for the children. |
| Where: Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 15, Month 1, Turn 41 (Interval 10) |
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The rest of the bowl may be barren, grass barely surviving at best, but
here by the lake, it's brilliantly green in the warmer months: thickening
and thriving in the silty, boulder-dotted soil just before it transitions
to soft sand and thence to the cool, clear water itself.
A large freshwater lake fed by a low waterfall, it not only provides
warm-weather bathing space for humans and dragons, but has one end fenced
off as a watering hole for the livestock in the feeding grounds. The water
there is often muddier than the rest of the clear lake, whose shallows
drop off abruptly several yards out into deep water, and whose edge
undulates against the coarse-hewn bowl wall: here close enough to just be
bramble-covered rocks, there far enough away that a narrow land bridge
divides the main lake from a smallish pond. Between are several rocky
outcroppings that form excellent makeshift diving points, though only one
-- across the bridge -- has a set of narrow, slippery, quite possibly
tempting stairs.
The snowfall is light and intermittent throughout the day until it tapers
off completely into a frigid night. The ground is damp, though very little
sticks. It's been a cold day, though by a High Reachian winter's stands not the worst. The snow's been falling throughout the day, but even without that addition there's more than enough gathered on the ground for the afternoon's apparently unconventional harper lesson for the mixed class of children. Some are older and some younger, and they're paired up, while Quint walks between them, inspecting their creations. It looks like they're building mini snow forts, at first -- it's only on closer inspection one might realize they're each creating the major and minor holds that form High Reaches' coverage area, with the rock at the very center -- on which sits a wrapped package -- representing the Weyr in the formation. "Another ten minutes, boys and girls!" calls Quint, his voice pitched to carry: "And then we'll see whose paid the most attention to detail!" There's mostly groans and pained noises at this, the children hurriedly bending over their respective creations, trying to shape the snow. A cold day means 'out and about' for one Taiga bronzepair. While Asaroth is keeping out of sight, T'gar looks to be simply - taking a stroll. His leathers are on, and his gait is leisure as he comes upon a class in session. Not one to disrupt it seems, he's unassuming in his meander through the students as he eyes some of the snow creations with open interest. Most of the children seem oblivious to T'gar's presence; a couple of the older boys give him wary looks, but it's the harper that greets him with an easy smile: "T'gar, isn't it?" Quint tilts his head as if he might not remember; as if a trained harper might somehow be wrong. He steps near, glancing past the bronzerider to whatever creation's caught his attention at the moment: "They're quite good, no? Though," he leans closer to murmur, "Some diverged quite a bit from expectations of realistic proportions, but, they tried," he grins, and his expression changes, eyes widening as if something's only just occurred to him. "Actually -- if you have a moment..?" Watching the work in action as he approaches Quint, in his Bitran accent, "So it is true what they say about harpers and memory," T'gar greets back in answer before turning his gaze on him. "What exactly are they making? Snowholds?" He has a moment. It's in the way he steps to the harper's side once his gaze falls back on the creations at work with hands on his hips. Quint's brow visibly furrows. "Mm, you know what? I can't quite remember," he says, shaking his head, only a trace of a smile touching his lips. "As accurate as they can be from drawings. Most are too young to have traveled much, if at all," the harper answers smoothly, glancing over by habit when a few voices are raised in a momentary argument over whether it would be "cooler" for them to create a moat for Crom or not. The argument seems firmly won by the older boy, and the journeyman's gaze returns to the rider. "As someone intimately familiar with Reaches' holds, you would make an apt judge." He cocks his head to one side, his question just as wordless, and just as obvious as the rider's previous response. Listening, "I think we did something like that back home," Rat relates as he watches the small fight. "Try to recreate Bitra. It was fun watching most of us getting it wrong. You want me to go around and judge their holds?" There's uncertainty in his tone as he asks, arching a look over at Quint. "I suppose I would know what I'm doing. I could tell that boy over there that a moat in Crom would make sense there." That could be his agreement to examine thier work. "Well," Quint's voice is somewhat rueful, "If you're going to judge, you oughn't give them hints and tips -- otherwise they'll be upset when they do what you ask and you don't pick them." Still, the harper spreads his hands as if inviting the rider to do what he will; or maybe he just means for the bronzerider to inspect them, as he calls out: "One minute, everyone!" To a frantic scrambling of snow-packing and sculpturing. Laughing, "A hard taskmaster, are you?" Rat teases with a look. "Very well. I can play fair when I want to." Then, after a moment's silence, "I don't think I see you around here all that often," he notes aloud. "You're from here, right? I didn't get much of a chance to introduce myself at the hatching in Fort." "No, just realistic. Most children tend to take you at your word -- assuming you haven't lied to them before. I try not to break all their childhood dreams and wishes in one afternoon," the harper replies in a blithe undertone. The children get more than their minute of finished work, as Quint gives an easy smile, "Just over a couple of turns here, now. I imagine," without any sense of awkwardness, "We don't often run in the same circles." His gaze, briefly, flickers to his charges, then back to the bronzerider. "Well. The very least I can do is buy you a drink in thanks for your service, afterwards. Ready?" He asks the question, but doesn't appear to wait for the answer as his voice lifts: "All right, all right. Hands by your sides, everyone! We have a special guest judge this afternoon. T'gar, would you like to introduce yourself," he gestures, as if presenting the bronzerider on a stage at a gather, rather than to avid sets of many curious eyes. "I don't deal with kids all that much," T'gar tells him with a shake of his head. "Unless they're the ones that keep their mouth shut as they shoveled shit next to me in the stalls. A couple of turns, huh? I figured I'd run into everyone here at one point, you know? Anyway, I won't turn down a free drink." but then, all talk cease when one is put on the spot to introduce yourself. He appears taken aback by all the stares before he steps forward and states, "Well. Name's Rat. T'gar's the name I was given. Um. I ride a dragon. He's bronze. He's crazy. Uh. Came from Bitra where I, uh, shoveled shit all day." Pause. "I mean, shoveled crap all day. You didn't hear that last bit. Mm. And I like bubbly pies." He looks to Quint. As T'gar introduces himself, there's different reactions from the children -- some of the older boys -- old enough perhaps to stand in the next clutch -- straighten and pay closer attention, staring with rapt awe, while others whisper and giggle over the name "Rat", and some of the girls affect boredom. Quint, meanwhile, is well-trained enough that he doesn't even pause, swiftly stepping in when the bronzerider looks to him, as all the children giggle over that last. There might not be quite so much awe in a handful of those gazes, anymore. "Perhaps, mm, some better preparation next time -- that's on me, I did put you on the spot. So," the harper gestures towards the nearest snow offering, looked over by an older girl and a younger boy, "Would you like to examine the holds, and select the one you think best represents its respective real life hold?" "I'm not really good at...speaking to children," T'gar leans over to explain to Quint despite all eyes on him. "If it was a group of ladies, well..." But then there's a task at hand and he nods and steps over towards the nearest creation as he says, "Right. Let me see...." Affecting a look of concentration (likely for the kids'), the bronzerider slowly traverses the group, looking at each creation with the occasional nod or grunt and giving nothing away on his tense face. "Mm. Well, often I find it useful to talk to them like adults, except without the swearing," comes Quint's not-so-helpful now advice. Most of the pairs of children just stare at T'gar in a disconcerting fashion, although one of the older boys is game enough to declare, "Ours is clearly going to win, because I've been to Pars before and I know it better than anyone!" This earns some eye-rolling from other children nearby, though their teacher's presence at T'gar's side prevents any verbal responses. The harper, since he's not choosing, offers praise for each creation -- that one's attention to detail for the cobblestones of the courtyard, or that one's fireheights being well crafted, or this one's tiny little holder standing nearby. "Now you tell me," Rat says good naturedly, holding back a chuckle. "Not that talking to them like they're adults would be the best advice for me," he adds now, a touch wry. "I don't think they're parents would want me around them if that was the case. I think I've found the one that I like," he gives this last statement in the kids' direction, but it's clearly meant for Quint as he steps away from the last examined creation. There's a nonverbal apology in Quint's expression, held back as much for their circumstance as, likely, the good-natured response from the bronzerider. "Ahh, the bronzerider's made a choice. Children, gather around," he gestures them closer. "As you know, the winners will receive whatever's in the box," he glances towards the rock as the class gathers around. "So, bronzerider T'gar -- which do you name winner?" he's as curious as any of the children about T'gar's selection. Once the children are all gathered, T'gar watching in silence, once they're close he steps away from the group to take a slow meandering around the creations while Quint talks. He makes a few stops to certain ones - as if they were the winner - only to shake his head and move on to the next. A few he lingers around as if he's deliberating - his head turning between two creations next to each other - before he shrugs and abandons the attention. Finally, he stops at one creation that gets the brunt of his attention, nodding his head and turning towards the group with a flourish of hands towards it. "Who made this one? I think it's the most accurate one of them all. Craftsmanship's not bad, either." There's whispering and muttering and shifting behind the bronzerider -- the children too impatient to a fault, waiting for him to pick. Quint's silent, watching, staying where he is while T'gar does another circuit. When he selects a winner, the harper grins and nods. "Mine, it's mine!" A girl's voice calls, quickly corrected by: "It's ours, wherryhead!" The older girl pushes out of the crowd, beaming with pride, "See?" she immediately looks at her partner, a slightly younger boy, "I told you it was the best." The boy rolls his eyes, but looks pleased just the same, squinting up T'gar. "Did you really shovel shit?" the boy asks, wide-eyed. "Henny, shush! You're not supposed to say that," the girl tells him off, authoritatively, then turns faux apologetic look at the bronzerider. "He's young and dumb." "I'm not!" The girl ignores the protest and asks, "What do you like about it? It's the flag, right? I did that!" T'gar looks pleased - as if he made that creation himself as the children argue. He doesn't answer the boy right away - the girl beats him to it anyway - so he answers her first as he points out different parts that he liked. "The courtyard, the architecture," he explains with a nod, "and the flag does stand out. Makes me wonder how this would look carved into wood instead of snow. And painted. Can you imagine building some people all over it? It's definitely real from the wings of my dragon. Now," and now he turns to address the boy, "Yeah, kid. I did. Though you shouldn't say 'shit'. Not until you're 15. Promise me that, right? Can't have you all picking up bad habits after me. Wait awhile longer before you do." Beat. "But yes, I did. Before I Impressed. My pa ran the stables. Asaroth wanted me anyway." The girl looks practically giddy from the praise, and it's not just because it's cold that her cheeks are suddenly flushed. Amazingly, the praise seems to render her speechless, while Henny is less enthused for the words afterwards, rolling his eyes again. "Bet you said shit all the time when you were stuck shovelling it." The girl with him looks positively outraged on his behalf, but before she can come up with something to say, Quint steps closer. "All right, all right. Class, you're dismissed -- you can destroy your creations before you go, if you want, but I think it would be nice to show off, if you wanted to keep them." Most do seem to lean towards the latter, but there's a handful who, with reckless abandon, destroy the snow-holds they created. "Thank you, T'gar," he says with a grateful nod towards the bronzerider. "Now, Henny, Ansi -- do you want to collect your prize?" He doesn't have to say much more than 'pri-- before they're darting for the box. "Good choice," the harper approves, with a smile. "Turns out, you're not so bad with children after all." "'Course I did," Rat answers the kid on his cursing, his smile easy. "That was only because my parents didn't care what they said around me. So, until you find yourself stuck shovelling it...." the rest, he leaves before tossing a wink at the flushed girl and watching them and the rest of the group run off. To Quint with a nod for his thanks, "That doesn't mean I can be around them everyday, you know," he says on his progress report. "I happen to hazardous only 'some' of the time. And it was entertaining." "Well, in that case, I appreciate the restraint for this afternoon," the harper says, reaching out with the intent of clasping the younger man on the shoulder. Quint glances over his shoulder: Henny and Asri each have a hide in their hands, and Henny's crowing about how he's getting a free flight to anywhere he wants, and now his friends (and those who are many not-so-much-friends) are all crowding around the pair to see or to ask if they can go along. With a grin, the harper nods towards the Snowasis, "I can buy you that drink now, though I'm afraid I won't be able to stay, myself." Nodding to that grip, "I'm happy to help out, sometimes," T'gar is easy in answering back with a toothy grin. "Got a name to uphold around here. Looks like the kids are happy with themselves," with a nod towards that group crowded around the winners. "Nice on you. Buy me the drink later. I've got sweeps to run anyway, but, when you're free, we'll have that drink. Sounds good to you?" "Oh, there'll be a few upset, regardless," Quint says, matter of factly, "But I've planned a big trip for all of them once the snows melt a bit, so they've that to look forward to soon." His hand drops back to his side, easily, and he accepts the raincheck with an easy smile. "What an excellent suggestion. Enjoy your sweeps, T'gar, and give my regards to your dragon also, would you?" "You must be a favorite teacher among them," Rat comments, chuckling. Nodding towards that last as he steps away, "I will. Take care of yourself until then, Quintus. Good to see you around, man." "I'll settle for one they listen to," the harper replies with an easy chuckle. "Clear skies," Quintus calls, lifting a hand, before he turns attention briefly back to the children -- many still clustered around the winners, with other weyrfolk starting to drift closer, tugged along by their child, showing off their creation. Better than one they will go out of their way to prank," Rat says that as if it's something he's done himself. "Alright, man. Clear skies." Then he's on his way towards the bowl, in much the manner of one that was on his way there in the first place. |
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