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Harper's Tale - January 04, 2002,
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Lord Warder's Office
Paled beach wood forms the stark lines that mark a new hand in the spaciously large office, a mix of cheerful rosewood and pale beach wood brightening the stone of the room. A large desk dominates the view, arranged in the corner to face both the entrance and a door that leads off to private rooms, scattered with hidework and surrounded by glowbaskets on stands should the light falling through the large window fall at night or be obscured by clouds in day. On the side of the wall stands a large white hearth, set deep into wall to hold a cozily crackling fire should Ista's temperatures verge on chilly. A variety of chairs and a small couch furnish seating for visitors around the middle of the area.
Andron is here.
Obvious exits:
Admin Hall, Private Rooms

As every room Andron resides in seems to, this one has collected mini-messes. Hidework is strewn across the desk -- and floor, and shoes have been kicked off to earlier fly haphazardly across the room to land in rather random locals. Bare feet on the desk, slouched in his chair, Ista's 'Lord Warder' is busy reviewing an accounting book.

A firm triple knock sounds on the door to the office before a familiar head pokes around the doorframe. And the rest of Liesana is soon to follow it, clad in her usual clinging breeches and bouncing a package from one hand to the other with an amused look on her face. The Lord Warder hard at work, she decides to slip the rest of the way into the room. "So it's true," she offers with a quiet tone rich in muffled laughter. "I'm in Nerat for three months, and you take over the Hold." A larger smile. "Congratulations."

Glancing up at the knocks, Andron quirks an eyebrow as an automatic smile fixes in place that broadens as Liesana enters. "The most charming Harper Liesana!" Feet slide off the desk and he stands to work around it, teasing in his courtesy as he shifts a chair and waves at it. "Your presence was sorely missed, naturally. Come, sit unless you're just running through and already on your way back to the Smith's. And thank you. Pity Ista?"

"Most charming, hmm...? Well, seeing as how there are no other Harpers bearing my name, I suppose that might be apt enough," quips Liesana in question. Good thing. Two of her would be too many... "And I do pity it... or the female contingent of Ista anyways... Now we can't strike you when your lines grow too thick." With a wink, she settles in one of the indicated chairs, removing a hide and a redfruit core on a plate beforehand with an air of grace. "But I can certainly sit for a bit. Just galloped in from Smith, actually, and I have a certain something to deliver to you."

Andron rolls his eyes in return for the quip, far too happy to ignore his work at the moment to give that the appropriate rejoinder. "Who's to say they won't strike anyway? The new headwoman's quite the tongue on her. Came in when she was assistant and demanded to know why the stores were such a mess." So he promoted her. Logical. As he lets that bit of conversational babble slip he takes a seat on the edge of his desk, hopping up a bit and perching cozily to swing his legs lightly. "Something for me? Oh, you shouldn't have," he teases, dropping a wink and putting his hand over his heart. "But if you're just in -- would you like something to drink? I can raid the stores legally, now."

Liesana, mistress of creative time wasting, is only too happy to assist in the ignoring of work. "Well, I suppose that's quite true. Some people have no respect for rank after all." But Liesana does. Yup, definitely, of course, for sure. *cough* Yeah, right. The twinkle in her eyes gives the game away. "But messy stores, hmm... so that's why you promoted her. Sound thinking," she approves. The journeywoman is quick to pick up on Hold gossip, apparently. But it's with a plummy gesture that shestands and sketches a bow, before handing over the package. "Compliments of Smith Hall, and I have no idea what it is. Although it probably won't bite." The suggestion of refreshments prompts another twinkle. "Well, as a Harper, it's my duty to encourage legal behavior..." she aquiesces, settling back in her seat.

"And each and every one of them lives at the Hold," Andron says firmly, but not without a laugh and a faint smirk. "The bartenders in particular are horrible. And yes. That way she could recruit all the help she wanted, clean the stores, and no longer complain to me." Or that's the rational, anyway. Think it'll work? Not likely. The package is taken with an oh-so-gracious nod of his head, perfectly regal and ruined by his grin. "Although if you've been handling it, it might have learned -how- to bite where it once was harmless," he jibes in return, finger-waving a drudge in from the hallway. A basket of linens is set down as he sends the girl back into -his- room, and she returns with a skin of wine. "It's Benden, a white. I'm most find of whites. Will that do?" Now a clean -glass-. That's the trick.

Liesana twinkles. "Former employees aren't bad. Try teaching a class to senior apprentices who were apprentices with you. Respect just does /not/ happen." she reveals. Although after a few judicious pranks... But, no need to discuss /that/... Her eyes dance as she surveys the package. "Alas, my secret revealed!" she declaims theatrically. "But no, my Herder-raised skills have shown no success on inanimate objects, so you're safe." The wine is eyed appraisingly, and she nods. "White is excellent. I have a tendancy to do things I regret later if I drink red." Oooops, probably should not have told Andron that... Nevertheless, she eyes the room, comes to a private decision on the sorts of glasses to be found in it, and, with a rummage in her carrysack, produces a felt-wrapped pair of them. "These do?"

"Ah. Ever like a Harper to be prepared when a crisis should strike," Andron says brightly, taking the glasses and setting them on the desk. The wine is poured with the appropriate flourishes an ex-bartender -- for that is a knot conspicious only in it's absence -- can add. "So I should keep red around when I know you're coming, eh?" A smirk is flashed as that bit of information is stored away, never to be forgotten. "Benden produces the best reds. Never that fond of Paradise reds."

Liesana offers a graceful smile and a nod at the glasses. "Merely emulating Robinton to the best of my abilities, dear," she allows breezily, appropriating a glass and lifting it in a slight toast to who-knows-what. "But as for red, the last time I drunk it was memorable enough that even /you/ couldn't tempt me to taste it's treacherous charms." Getting blind drunk and kissing a candidate in the middle of the living caverns is generally a bad thing, yes. "But Benden's red is definitely superior. Paradise is too warm for a proper red, is my guess."

Andron shrugs loosely and tips an easy grin at Liesana. "I've no clue. I just know what tastes good. The whyfor's are beyond me." Mental note to self: when Liesana's around, -definately- get the reds. "What about a blush wine?" he asks angelically, head ducking to smirk over the rim. It's not -technically- red, after all. "Tillek makes some decent roses, amazingly enough."

Noooo... No getting Liesana drunk. Nope. Poor holdbred Journeywoman has a rather strong set of morals that would jab at her the morning after. The smirk prompts just the faintest trace of colour to brush her cheeks, hidden adroitly by a sip from her own glass and a set of deliberatley dancing eyes. "A blush wine... Hmmm... Perhaps an experiment is in order," she quips, before returning to the safe territory of wines and their origins. A most unladylike snort. "No doubt because the weaknesses of the white and red mask each other in the mix."

As visions of drunk Lies' dance in his head -- well, maybe not -quite- that bad -- Andron's smirk widens a bit. "An experiment sounds delightful. I shall send drudges to raid the stores for the best wineskins. A lure to bring you back another day," he adds, lifting his glass in teasing salute at the journeywoman. "Benden and Paradise only. Tillek can be used to clean glasses with." He is so biased towards those Paradisian wines if he puts them with Benden.

Liesana chuckles. "My dear Lord Warder," Just a slight hint of teasing emphasis on the title. "Your scheming would do a Harper proud. Give me a message and I'll arrive with bells on." And lots more besides. No getting hopes up! She leans back on her chair, and props her boots up on a corner of his desk, emulating Andron's informal example. The glass is held in the palm of one hand as she's once again back to wine chat. Safe, no? And she can spend the time thinking up witty repartee. "Benden /and/ Paradise... Hmm... start with the lesser and work up to the good stuff?" Meaning Benden by her tone. Someone else is just as biased.

Lots more besides? Strip poker! Get Liesana drunk enough to lose, then play. If only he were clever enough to think of it. "My dear Harper," Andron returns, a light mimicry of her emphasis in his words. "Such praise from you truly makes my day worth having been woken up at a most ungodly hour by angry drudges." A nod goes Journeywoman-wards as they head back to wine as well as a smirk. "Precisely. Start with the young Benden whites, a few of the newer Paradise whites, but what to do last?"

Ah, but Liesana has bested /Bitrans/ at dragon poker. It would most likely be Andron doffing his skivvies. Hmmmmm... Just as well he didn't think of it. "Ungodly, hmmm... And angry drudges. Tsk. I can see that command isn't all wine and women, hmmm?" Is she sympathetic? No. But back to the wine. The true focus of conversation, despite outrageous sideruns on both sides. "Hmmm... Well, I can hardly allow you to provide all of the drinkables..." she muses. "I /do/ have my own private stores..." she reveals.

Charming vision. Then again, Liesana has a long-standing threat of pranks. "Wine and women? I wish. I see more of dead, tanned animal skins in all the hides and such then I do of the fair skin of even a woman's hand," Andron says, pouting fetchingly -- or so he thinks. The look is promptly ruined by a smirk as he sits up and out of his slouch. "Oh do you? And what, my dearest drinking partner, might you have to bring to the table, so to speak?"

Liesana arches an eyebrow and chuckles over the rim of her glass, knocking back the last of it, and placing it back on the desk by the wineskin. Hinting? Liesana? /Never/. She chuckles furthur. "Dear man, forgive me if I doubt you on that score. Of all the males of Ista, I should think you'd be one of the /last/ to be without female company." But, the wine. Again. "Well, I have some skill with cards..." she allows. "And I happened to win a case of Benden white off one of my competitors a few turns ago... Specifically, white wine from the 6th turn of the previous master... which would place it at a fine age for drinking. I /might/ be convinced to share a bottle for a... worthy cause." Cementing Hold-Hall relations. That's what they're doing!

Hint or not, a refill is given even though Andron has to set down -his- glass to do so. See the sacrifices he makes for Liesana's sake? "Not, I'm afraid it's tragically true. The last female I entertained who had nothing to do with work before you was a greenriding member of that -- ah, harem they call themselves -- that Lady Charis got kidnapped into. Peculiar type, Naomi or some such." Peculiar doesn't even -begin-. "A good month or so." His reputation is -slipping-. "A worthy cause, hmm? I suppose celebrating an excellent vintage like that is not cause enough for you?" he teases, eyebrow arching as he reclaims his glass of wine to drain it and get -himself- a refill.

"I'd heard about the 'kidnapping'," muses Liesana with a smile, and a nod of thanks for the refil. "Even back-of-nowhere cotholds in Nerat get /some/ news... But really, they can't be all awed by the new knot, hmmm?" /She/ is certainly not. Either that, or they're all taking the opportunity to flee while he's buried under paperwork... "But I suppose that could classify as a worthy cause. Sharing my find with a fellow connosieur," A playfully mocked gesture of high class accompanies the turn of phrase. "So long as you're sure to see that there's snacks to accompany the tasting... No point in passing out before the final act."

Fleeing is more likely. The only awe he gets is -- well, none. "Amusing that. All the greenrider would say is that Lady Charis is nice enough, but hogs the blankets," Andron says dryly, shaking his head with a faint smirk that expands to an easy smile. "Ah, but your kidness deserves the greatest of rewards. Had I jewels, I would give them to you. Instead I can only offer you this meagre drink and the feeble offer of company when you bring out that wine. As for snacks--" Dilute the wine with food? Heaven forbid. "--I'll see what I can do." A cheerful wink, then he raises his glass in a teasing toast. "To Vintners and Harpers, without which we would lack wine and such -charming- company."

Liesana chuckles. "I believe I have all the jewels I want, " she offers dryly. Thanks to Remy and a certain necklace she couldn't track down the proper owner of. "The few I've dealt with were an immense headache. If I wish one of those, I'd rather aquire it downing fine wine." A wink. "But if you wish to thank anyone for my attempts at gracious company, it's a pair of Herders you owe gratitude to." Her glass is raised in a slight toast to them, before she takes another appreciative sip.

"Then to Herder's as well," Andron says cheerfully, another sip taken at the addition. It's only right, after all. "I'd rather take the wine without the headache, though. It's a rare thing that can make me regret drinking it the morning after." Part of bartender training, one would assume. Out with the lines: "But nothing could make me regret passing a night drinking in your company." A cheerful wink, carefully trimmed of all would-be-hints of the lascivious if tipped Harper-wards.

Liesana nods. "Headaches can be cured, but the remedy is painful as well," she muses, adjusting the settlement of her boots on the edge of the desk. "But, as they say, no pain, no gain. So I'm quite willing to spend the night with you..." What?!?!?!!! A saucy smile. "Drinking that is."

Yes, get the poor warder's hopes up and dash them. Evil Harper. Well done, to judge by the appreciative smirk her wordplay earns er. "As I said, any time with you would be as a gift," Andron says smoothly. "Some of the 'cures' prescriped seem rather -- foolish. I've always found cold water will at least put the world back into focus."

Are there any other sort? The Harper in question sketches an easy nod of her head, aknowledging the homage offered in the smirk. "Well, I shall no doubt be awaiting your summons, then," she aknowledges, content with the toying done to the idea for the moment. "Personally, I find cold water leaves me with a sinus headache. I conned a recipe off one of the Healers that is thoroughly horrible but quite effective." And grey-green. With lumps.

Andron
Twin locks of honey-hued hair frame a triangular face marked by delicate features; brushing slim shoulders, toasted-almond strands shift with the slightest movement. Short, flyaway wisps angle upwards, length distinctly shorter than face-framing tresses, to incline sharply in back. Long lashes serve as the setting for apple green eyes, alabaster skin for paled cherry lips. A pert nose bears the sun's kiss by way of chocolaty freckles dashed across creamy skin. Flat planes of chest and stomach dwindle to almost femininely curved hips, long legs adding height to a slight frame.
Caressing the skin, this elegent amethyst sisal shirt radiates sensual indulgence from its open collar and long cuffed sleeves down to the long hem. Flowing jewel tones ripple throughout the shirt as the wide collar band kisses the throat. Tiny silvery buttons flow down the front catching the light as Andron moves. Adding to the decadence, the shirt is made longer so that it can be worn without pants. A tab bearing the weaver craft stamp with a tiny 'sh' stitched over it tucks neatly under the collar.
He is awake and looks alert.
Andron is 22 Turns, 5 months, and 13 days old.

Liesana
Almond shaped eyes of amber warmth glimmer brightly amidst fine and expressive features, while crimson-pink lips reflect a range of emotions, from devillish mischief to rare pensive moods. Liesana is petite, despite a medium stature of 16.2 hands, slim figure carrying not a trace of extra flesh, although her muscles are toned and well defined. She does lay claim to her share of feminine charms, however. Wavy chestnut hair falls to the small of her back, outlining an hourglass figure with a well formed, if small breast. Work is no stranger to her, nor good times: gitar born callouses on her fingertips and several old scars on her arms hint that here is one who does nothing halfheartedly.
Peasant-styled shirt of eye-catching white flutters loosely about her form, fitting closely only at the cuffs, and where a grey cloth vest cinches it in, leaving the hourglass of her figure clearly visible. The vest sports a vee-cut front, so that the lacings of the peasant shirt are also visible. Black denim slacks fit closely, leaving no excess fabric to flap irritatingly, and the outfit is completed by leather boots, also dyed black, that reach to mid-calf and are equally suited for riding or walking. Her hair is gathered in a low runner's tail, and small earrings of onyx stone glitter on her ears. Tail wrapped loosely around the neck of her perch-of-choice, Angelique perches on Liesana's right shoulder.
Blue and white twine in a double cord knot of single loop and long tail, a ribbon of red accenting. Fastened prominently to it is a roundel badge bearing a blue harp. Combined, all this finery heralds a Journeyman of the Harpercraft, posted to Smith Hall no less!
She is awake and looks alert.
Carrying:
Brown Leather Carrysack Angelique
Chestnut-Wood Gitar
You notice Liesana gazing upon your form.
Liesana is 24 Turns, 1 month, and 12 days old.

Lumps? And it's -drinkable-? "My summons, hmm?" Andron plays that over in his mind, lingering on the words playfully. Aaaah, power. "Somehow I get the feeling if I 'summoned' you, a laugh would be all I heard. Instead, I shall wait and hope for the day when your wandering path brings you by again. Just send warning so I can dig up the wine," he says brightly, unable to help a wink. "And a bucketful of cold water's not that bad, so long as you dry off properly." He's got experience, naturally.

Liesana chuckles. "You really have no faith in my training, do you?" she teases. "Even wild runnerbeasts like myself have /some/ sense of proper etiquette. So summon away. I promise if I laugh, I'll do so in your presence." That's /such/ a comforting thought, isn't it? "But I'll indeed send a warning. Give you time to scoot the giggling girls out of your office, at least." His innocent pleas work not at all on Liesana, alas.

Andron is an angel, truly. "Giggling girls? What about the boys?" he asks teasingly. "Should I leave them here for scenery, just for you?" Riiight. Surround Lies with legions of boys to feed her peeled grapes. There you go. "And somehow the prospect of being laughed at -to- my face is no less daunting." Big, bad Lord Warder scared of itty, bitty Liesana? Sure, when she's threatened him with pranks.

Liesana is not itty bitty. She's /petite/. She used to kick people in the shins for such commenting. But, the more mature Liesana instead nods archly. "The boys can stay. So long as none of my mentees are among them." Pokepokepoke. Ouch? Is she going to let him forget? No. But, mercifully, she follows that vein no longer, instead following the rollicking pace-changes of the conversation with a liveliness. "Oh, come now, I promise I'll laugh in a /nice/ way," she cajoles teasingly.

Good thing he didn't comment, then. A faint upwards twitch of Andron's lips follows Liesana's verbal poke and he allows it to slide into a smirk. "If Mynd's here, I'll tell him to leave then. We've since decided we -can- talk to each other, and he seems to have made it his sacred duty to make sure I remember what the outdoors looks like." He holds up his free hand then, momentarily solemn -- even if it is teasing. "But no more than that, dear Harper. I remember my promise to you." You know, the one about leaving her mentees alone? Yah, that one. "And I suppose any sound you'd make would be pleasant on the ears. Laughter no less than anything else." Smirk.

Liesana sobers a moment, just slightly, sipping from her wine and regarding Andron for a long moment, before nodding. "And you have always been an honourable man in that regard," she agrees, that matter settled in her mind. Promises, that is. But soon the teasing eyes return. "Yes, that regard... If not in others." Wink. And then a chuckle, interspersed with a sip of wine. "Pleasant on the ears... I see you've never spoken to my old instruments master, hmmm?"

"I knew you were going to say that," Andron says in a teasing groan, head tipping back. "Really, do you think so little of me?" Did he have to ask? Better left unanswered. "I assure you I am perfectly honorable and the epitome of--" Hang on, he's trying to think of something. Oooh. "--chivalry." Riiiiight. Sure he is. "And what need have to speak with an instrument master when I've the music of your voice instead?" Isn't he smooooth? Well, no. But the wine is -- speaking of of which, the wineskin is offered for a refill as he tops off his own glass.

Liesana accepts the refill. Yes, she needs to ride back at a gallop, but she's done it in far worse shape. "Oh come now Andron, you know I'm fond of you," she assures, lightly. "But you /also/ must know that it's a Harper's duty to keep the egoes of those in power in check, hmmm?" So she was poking at his ego when he was a bartender... she was just... warming up.

"Those words I shall take with me into dark, cold nights from here until the end of my days," Andron says theatrically, refering, one would assume, to the fond bit. And since when is Ista that cold? "Far be it from me to keep you from your duty. Perhaps you ought come to Ista more often just to make sure of that." The wineskin is capped and set aside for the moment, although if a refill is demanded surely he wouldn't refuse.

Liesana chuckles again, and indulges furthur in her glass of wine. Last one for her. She still has to be reasonably together while conducting a mentee-inspection. "Ista's nights rivalling those of 'Reaches, after all," she agrees, any acerbity veiled by an amused smile. "But I'm usually down at least once a sevenday, so no doubt we can avoid significant growth of your head." More of the wine disappears, and she removes her boots from his desk. "Now, I have some business to attend to in your /old/ haunt, " she twinkles. "So when your hides release their grasp on you, we'll no doubt have to discuss these matters furthur in a place where you can terrify your old staff." Terrify. Yeah. Right.

Andron, kindly as always, naturally plans to finish the wine left after the visit. Isn't he a sweatheart? Right. "Exactly," is his only reply to Liesana's bit about Istan nights. "And your assistance in assuring I'll fit through doorways will be most appreciated. The greatest of pleasures to see you, as always," he adds, stretching with a faint smirk. "Should the hides ever tire of me I'll see if I can't hunt you out down there."

Liesana twinkles, and stands, leaving her wineglasses in his care. She'll re-aquire them later. Shouldering her carrysack once move, she sketches a bow ans she disapparates around the doorframe. "I look most forward to it," she smiles, a genuine sentiment.