Difference between revisions of "Logs:Skills"

She may not be allowed anywhere near High Reaches Hold, but Alida certainly has much of the rest of Pern still at her disposal...and a particular v-tol in her bonnet. Ilicaeth rumbles bright greetings to any other dragons hanging about Harper/Healer Hall, and after the gritty blue finally drops off his rider in the Hall courtyard - then winging his way up to the 'heights to natter in curious, friendly fashion with aforementioned other dragons - the blonde tries to look at confident as possible while entering inside. This only partially works, since Alida's never been here before, and since nobody around looks like the only real Harper she knows: Suireh. A few peers here, some glances there, and enough walking produce no good results other than more confusion and hesitancy, and so it's with a certain amount of mixed grumpiness and keen want that the rider finally asks someone she comes across, "Where can I find S...er, Journeyman Suireh?"

The young apprentice, so approached, halts his steps, startled and glances up and down the pathway. "Uh," he flushes and tugs at his collar, "Master Suireh?" Does his nose wrinkle? Does he look completely discombobulated? "I don't... hey, Jax," the young boy calls down to someone else in the courtyard, a pretty blonde girl looking up quickly. His question of, "Do you know where Master Suireh might be?" is answered with, "With Craftsecond Annia. Did you hear?" she says in her next breath, "We might finally have a new apprentice master. Shells and bells, why it has to be her I don't know." The young man looks to Alida and points up to the Hall, "If you take a left at the top of the stairs, you'll find the administrative wing and offices. I..." he catches sight of her knot and frowns, "Are you from High Reaches Weyr?"

-Master- Suireh? Well...don't that beat all. There's a small double arch of brows from Alida at the new rank for R'hin's offspring, and then she's quietly waching, listening to the pair of Apprentices exchange questions and gossip, then nodding to the boy...and hesitating as she almost steps off in the proper direction. Blink. "Yes." Is there a precursor to a faint frown between the bluerider's brows?

"It's not anything to do with her dad is it?" The fifteen year old, who didn't seem to agree with Jax's appraisal of the master and possibly flushed about his cheeks again just shakes his head and points up. "Guess it's none of my business. If you need to speak to her she's up that way." He runs fingers through his ashen hair and hoists his duffelbag more properly over his shoulder.

Silently, all Alida allows herself in reaction to the youth's inquiry is a dubious stare, then a faint nod and small, pursing twist of lips when he figures out that it is indeed none of his business. "Thank you, Apprentices..." is murmured fomally to the two of them before she's striding off in the indicated direction, looking for the proper door.

Harper Hall is a Hall of organization, with carefully labeled doors and signs pointing where things are, and sounds. The sweet sounds of a violin being played contrast with the vocalizations of someone who, whether due to cold or too much or lack of practice, cannot make the high notes. There's elocution classes and the general thrum of a high energy educational environment. But up the stairs and to the left, like the nameless boy directed, is an odd place of quiet. Here, the doors are labeled by the Master's name and rank, early on there's one labeled [ Suireh, Master of Mezzo Vocals ], but if checked, the door is locked and no sounds come from it. The last one on the row belongs to [ Vesik, Masterharper ] and the one just before it labeled [ Annia, Craftsecond ]. From the latter, there is the muffled sounds of conversation, intense and clearly in disagreement.

The sweet sounds are pleasure to Alida's often strung-up senses, but the not-so-sweet ones... The palest-blonde gives a definite wince to those types as she passes through these august halls towards her destination. Strings or woodwinds, vocals and drums, they all make the bluerider's blood course with delight of some sort, greater or lesser...and it it also those that give her the extra courage to continue on when her own inner reticence might demand she just forget this endeavor. It's before Suireh's own door that the blonde stops and first knocks lightly. Nobody home...but that's what the kid said. Cinching up her will another notch, Alida continues to the proper door of the Craftsecond, readies her knuckles over the wood...and hesitates as those muffled strains of argument - not music - touch her keen senses. Great.

But lucky for Alida, as these things go, the meeting seems to be over and tired concessions to continue another time are made. The door opens and Suireh, though familiar, is not quite the same girl Alida might have once known. Older now, more strain to her features, but- but after closing the door, she's still quick to glance over, about to dismiss and walk past as another person for Annia, when she pauses and looks back. "You're from High Reaches, aren't you? Bluerider?" Her eyes narrow, disappearing as she tries to recollect a name, "Alida."

Nothing like being caught about to rap on someone's door as they're opening it. Alida at least has enough leftover politeness to look a hint chagrined for a moment as Suireh emerges, before the Master almost passes her by. Blink. Well, not everybody has a sound memory for faces, like the bluerider. Her pale, coronet-braided head bobs firmly in first answer to the other woman, the bluie's fast, hard-accented alto then noting low, "Yes. We met in the field. Recovery mission." Of a certain, unfortunately deceased Harper. It's not that memory that makes the rider pause a little longer than she might usually, though, and when she finally does chime back in, her hesitancy is a little more obvious. "I... I wanna get some lessons." Oh! "Not from you." Because Suireh's voice, while Alida is... "Guitar."

Suireh's mouth sets in a fashion that states she remembers exactly how they met and how that memory is not one she tries to think of. Her eyes shift, her skin pales further, and a shallow breath exhales. "Right," she ultimately ends up with, and is about to gesture to the door to give Alida all access to the Craftsecond when the bluerider's words stop her. "There are," she notes, the hand dropping, "Harpers at the Weyr that could help you with such things. That is," she adds with a mouth quirk and a lash rustling glance to the door that might indicate just what that heated conversation was about and not a promotion (or demotion) to apprentice master. "That is what the harpers at the Weyr are paid to do after all."

Ah, so she *does* remember. Suireh's paling features meet with a somewhat flat affect from the bluerider, until the Harper speaks of her kind at the Weyr. Instantly, Alida shakes her pale head quickly, and clips off a quiet but intense, "Don't want Weyr folk." Er, that is, "I'd rather take lessons in *private*." Beat. "Here." Her accent upon that one word is noticable, though not foreceful. She can't help but notice the other female's quirk of mouth and flick of gaze to that door, and try for a casual, "I figure you might understand the...want uv' getting away from yer own home, sometimes." Where people can't be so damned nosey.

"This," states Suireh, "Is my home." But semantics aside, the harper lets out a heavy, audible breath and gestures down the hallway. "Let me glance at the roster and see if there is anyone available for private lessons depending on what you are willing to pay or trade." The slender woman steps down the hallway towards her own office, withdrawing a set of keys and selecting one painted blue and opens it. "Have a seat," she says, fully expecting Alida to follow it would seem, and turns to select a volume off a shelf behind her desk. The office is small, but has a window, and the entire back wall behind the desk is a bookshelf filled with texts, scrolls, hides, and rolled up sheet music. It is large enough to fit the desk, a chair behind it and a chair on the other side, plus that shelf. Nothing more, and the young master makes use of her space well in a meticulous fashion.

"Yes; it is..." Alida notes with her own firmness, though the bluerider offers no further insights into any possible other meanings her words might have. Well, at least this ball is rolling forward some - and without crushing anybody! yet - which causes another flare of want to blaze higher within the pale-headed woman. She wants this...bad. And wanting anything this much could be dangerous. Nodding to the Harper, the rider's digits trembling just a little as she laces fingers loosely behind her hips, she follows the Master inside, and takes note of the room: the placement of things about it, what occupies it, and the scents within. Orderly, neat. Quietly: "Thank you for being...amenable ta' seein' me so suddenly."

Preoccupied with looking over a ledger, Suireh doesn't notice Alida's reaction until she speaks and then, the young woman looks up. "There's a journeyman Jefrin who would be able to teach you beginning gitar the first day of each month for thirty minutes in the evenings." The raven haired harper tips her head to one side, considers Alida, and then looks back down. "He is particularly astute with beginners and often teaches our new harpers and the paying students. His pay rate is affordable."

Beginner? As Suireh considers the pale-blonde, Alida nly shakes her head again in quick fashion, then clips off low and sure, "I'm not a beginner." There's very little uncertainty in her voice, manner when she assures the Harper of such. "Problem is... I dunno' what other level I *am* at. I need..." Ach. "I'd like someone in the know ta' figure out just what the f... shards I *am* in capability so I c'n get more...better training under my belt." At her back, those fingers quiver slightly, again. Is there a small hint of perspiration upon her upper lip?

The perspiration she notes, causing Suireh to close the ledger and look sharply at the bluerider. "If you would like my help, you will have to be far more upfront than this. And it would seem to me," she adds, pale eyes looking towards the bluerider's upper lip, "You seem to be more in need of a healer than a harper at this moment. Shall I send for an apprentice to escort you?"

There it is, brought out by Suireh's directness: that typical and vaguely irritated look Alida's face seems to hold more often than not, if it's not flat or smirking. Only for a few seconds, though, because the rider is letting her hands fall to her sides, and her firmer (and perhaps faintly caustic) alto riposte, "I'm *fine*." Rather nervous, but fine. "How much more up-front can I be? I wanna' know if I'm intermediate, advanced, expert, 'r *what.*" Yeesh. "I wanna get the right lessons...instructions fer whatever level's next fer me."

"So why do you even want a harper?" asks Suireh, the only reaction to the store a brow climbing up. "It sounds like you've learned all you can for an amateur, other than practicing, and any further lessons would require you to become a crafter, which your dragon does not give you the time allowance to do. And even then, even if you weren't a dragonrider and in spite of your experience," the harper says the word delicately, "You would begin at an apprentice's level."

Alida answers back without hesitation, "A Harper's got the creds fer details that I don't. The...the subtleties with music that I haven't found yet...'r might not be able ta without their help." She's proud, for certain - see the bluerider's chin lift ever-so-slightly? - but Alida's not a fool. At least in regards to her precious music. For some moments, the blonde looks somewhat strained as she tries to put her thoughts into words, seeks to string them together into something coherent. "I saw... have seen an old Harper do things with a guitar that *I* wanna do, someday." Quite subconsciously, those hands of hers twitch, their fingers making abortive little motions, almost as if fingering strings farther up the neck frets, rather than at the typical place on the lower body, then tapping twice upon that imaginary body. Almost lustfully, though still restrained, "He made it...sing like I've never heard before. Made it thump, hammer, scream..." There's echoes of left-over desire in the rider's lurid green gaze, a deep wistfulness and ache beneath the briskness of her voice.

Suireh might understand that desire, and indeed, a flash of sympathy and empathy seems to cross her pale eyes, a downward gaze and then a quick upward one finding Alida with some semblance of understanding. "I would never want to discourage someone seeking a life of music, but-," there's always a but isn't there? "That old harper? He probably practices fifteen hours a day and eats, breathes, drinks, and sleeps music. I am surprised, given what a prodigy you claim your parents say you were, Harper Hall didn't take an interest earlier, but I'm afraid you will likely never make music at that level unless you dedicate your life to this one." Which is an impossibility with her dragon and her job. "But I can set you up with a lesson with a colleague. He'll cost you quite a bit more and I know High Reaches doesn't pay their riders anywhere near enough to go monthly, but perhaps you can arrange some sort of trade."

Alida can see that in Suireh's aspect: that understanding *and* the Master's hesitancy, and for a moment, the bluerider looks almost frantic, trapped. Angry. "Just like *he* told me..." the 'Reachian mutters darkly, her gaze lowering, gouging into a rolled up sheet of music on the other woman's shelves. Bitter. "I don't give a fuck what I am, what they think I am..." Another shrug, and the blonde's shoulders square again, her feet taking her on useless little pace-steps up and back, up and back. Caged. "They *did*. But my ma' couldn't part with me." It's almost a smirk, more a lip-twist that's exhibited by the rider at her fate. She doesn't even bother appearing hurt by the impossibility of trading her current life for the one she might have had, but the barest hope the Suireh offers is instantly seized upon like a teenager answering the phone call that could be the acceptance of their first date: more-than-eager, and quietly dreading. "I'll pay marks when I can, trade, too. I got access ta firelizard eggs, sometimes." A quick and throbbing lub-dub of her heart is instantly quelled by the woman's learned caution, her over-eagerness tamped down at least partially by hard experience. "I have...skills, too."

It takes a few moments to fully sink in. And then overrides everything else the bluerider's said. "What?" It's blurted out before Suireh can vet it. "NO!" The ice princess is instantly repulsed and just shakes her head from just where her brain goes with the implications of Alida's last. "No! No! No!" Each negation is with a sharp head shake. "Just, you should leave. I'll speak to Markel whether he wants to take on another student or not and send word."

What the...? Suireh's emphatic negative has Alida stopping her pacing in her tracks, her greens lurching up to the Master to stare outright...something a little predatory in the blonde's stance, almost as if she's an owl that just spied a suspicious, mousey movement in a wheat field below. Oh. OH. "No. Harper; not *that*." The bluerider is just as emphatic as Suireh, though there's a brisk fastidiousness and clean disdain in her voice and manner, instead of the repulsion the dark-haired woman expresses. To clear things up before she departs, "I teach *self-defense*...an' that's *all*." A little icy, that. Hopefully Suireh gets that Alida isn't a thug for hire. "Thank you, Master Suireh..." is finally noted with some honest respect - and a lingering hint of hope - to R'hin's daughter before the bluerider sketches a faint bow, and turns towards the door.

Too stuck on what she construed from Alida's words, Suireh barely manages a nod to being corrected. The correction, however, does not reach her brain in time, so the nod will have to suffice. There are just no words to follow that kind of misunderstanding, as comedic as it was, and once the bluerider leaves, the harper just stares at her desk and shakes her head. Faranth.