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Gathering Hall
The room seems to loom as you enter, though the warmth within easily overcomes that feeling. It's huge, easily taking up a good third of the hall, and offering room for most people to sit and chat. The heat of the great hearth on the far wall spreads throughout, the merry crackling adding a peaceful undertone to the usually occupied room, heard even above the murmer of voices. Tables are all but littered about, pulled into and out of place by friends at a regular basis. Several more permanent tables and benches are settled along the far edge, an ever-full klah pot and several trays of various and sundry snacks almost always set out for the hungry and bored. The walls are decorated, tapestries denoting every part of Pern society strung about. Along the wall above the kitchen, in particular, is the pride and joy of the weavers: a string of dragons flying Threadfall. The vibrant flames and metallic hues of the dragons seem to glow as the flickering firelight strikes them. Above everything runs a long overhang, people passing to and fro, passing overhead of the figures and gatherings below. A handful of glowbaskets light the upper ends, the rest of the mainroom light brightly with candles and decorative lighting.
Various scents assult your nose as you walk in here. The rich smell of foods from the kitchen. The fire's smoke and heat. The sweet odors of various pipeweeds from the gossipers surrounding the hearthside table. The aromatic baskets do little here, except add their own faint undertones.
Clinging to a high beam are Fawnix, Skittles, and Feisty.
You see Bonehead here.
Arakiel is here.
Obvious exits:
Kitchen, Smith Infirmary, Courtyard, Grand Staircase, Lower Level

Liesana strolls in from the outdoors, dressed in breeches, slightly dusty, and clutching a few rolled message hides. Why is a Journeyman doing messanger duty? Could be that it's a good friend who's posted here. But then Arakiel is spotted, and a nod offered in her direction, the Harper obviously deciding to wait for Reeba to make an appearance, rather than taking off to find her in an unfamiliar place. "G'day to you, Headwoman Arakiel." she greets, slightly formal and slightly cautious.

Arakiel
Arakiel is a stunning, exotic, black-haired beauty. While well into her fourties, she still has the lithe, wiry body of a dancer, both strong and graceful. Her bronzed skin contrasts with her slightly slanted green eyes, which glitter with a a smile from the center of her oval face. Occationally her hair falls aside to reveal a small black tatoo in the shape of a raven on the back left side of her neck.
Arakiel is wearing a ble knitted halter top and a wide belt around her waits, into which a variety of multi-colored diaphenous scarves are tucked, constantly swaying and floating as she moves. Hung from a chain around her neck, a knife and it's sheath are tucked into the top of her halter. Straped around Arakiel's waist is a belt with an attched knife and pouch. Arakiel is holding a knife.
She is awake, but has been staring off into space for 14 minutes.
Carrying:
Bodice Dagger Ara's Belt
Dragon Claw
Arakiel is 50 Turns, 5 months, and 27 days old.

From the balcony above, Evan glides silently in from the SmithCraft Office.
From the balcony above, Evan glides silently to the Grand Staircase.

Evan glides silently in from the Balcony Landing.

You notice Evan gazing upon your form.

Evan
This man's blue eyes never rest long in one place as they flicker intently from one point to the next. Reflected light glitters wolf-like off of their surface from within a pair of eye sockets that appear deeper than they truely are thanks to the effect of wrinkles and the stern set of his face. Once black hair is mottled by the beginnings of gray hair which streak through his closely shorn locks. Despite these signs of encroaching age, or perhaps because of them, he retains an air of authority and strength that is carried in every motion, gesture, and stance. Clearly this is a man who expects to be obeyed. Nevertheless, he can usually be found at the edges of a room, staying well away from a crowd as if skulking silently by unnoticed. He might easily be mistaken for a hold guard thanks to the array of knives almost constantly at his belt, his gliding stride, and the way one hand hovers close to the knives, as if constantly on the threshold of drawing. At the very least, the contrast of his lithe, light movements and solid, well honed frame are the mark of a fighter.
Evan is dressed mostly in plain, unnoticable black. A pair of sturdy but worn black wherhide boots are mostly covered by a black pair of pants, although the gleam of a knife blade occationally appears from their inside edge. A black belt clasped with a buckle sporting a tongue made to look like a knife is crowded by several knives. Eight in all the knives are plain well made blades their hilts wrapped in black wherhide. The only mark of elegance is a well-cut gemstone at the pommel of each one, these knives are the trademark of this man. A dark red sissal shirt buttoned to the throat gleams metallicly. It is revealed by a black coat with silver buttons. Occasionally his right coat sleeve will fall back with the shirt to reveal a scar running from the man's wrist up his arm. Too clean and straight for a burn, it looks like a cut by a knife, intentionally judging by the length. The only mark of craft or rank about the man are two silver pins at the collar of his shirt, a knife on his left, and an anvil at the right. Evan wears a relitivly plain band on a finger, symbol of his marriage to Arakiel. Evan wears a pair of Golden Earrings. Although tiny hand work scrolls across them, it is all but invisible to any except the most trained eye. Perched on Evan's shoulder is Lazy.
He is awake and looks alert.
Evan is 48 Turns, 3 months, and 6 days old.

Evan's gaze flikcers over Liesana as he comes down the stairs before turning to Arakie. "Good evening dear."

Liesana
Almond-shaped eyes of amber warmth glimmer brightly amidst fine and expressive features, which show the clear and lively mind at work behind their every move. The crimson-pink lips reflect a vast and shifting range of emotions, from devillish mischief to rare pensive moods. The young woman before you is petite, despite a medium stature of 16.2 hands, her weight comes more from trim muscle than any excess fat, for bursting activity ensures that she carries none. But she does lay claim to her share of feminine charms: 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 half-heartedly.
Wherhide pants dyed a rich brown that compliment her hair. A loosely hanging cream coloured shirt with long sleeves provides adequate protection from any errant sticks, thorns or 'lizard claws. High leather boots complete the ensemble, with supple leather reaching to just below the knee. She looks as if dressed for a day's ride. Perched comfortably on Liesana's head is Lu-nar, who peers back at you. Tail wrapped loosely around the neck of her human, Angelique perches on Liesana's right shoulder.
A double cord knot, blue and white, with a single loop and a long tail, indicate that the wearer is a Harper Journeyman.
She is awake and looks alert.
Carrying:
Brown Leather Carrysack Blue-Edged Message Hide
Lu-nar Angelique
You notice Liesana gazing upon your form.
Liesana is 22 Turns, 10 months, and 11 days old.

Arakiel raises an eyebrow, "Have we met?"
Arakiel turns to Evan, "Evening love."

Liesana chuckles lightly. "Only in passing, in the Flying Mug a good while past." Harpers generally having a good head for names aside, gossip would ensure she'd know /this/ one. And judging from the tone and content of the conversation between the two older adults, she makes another guess that the man must be Evan. But having been warned by others /never/ to refer to him as Master, she's at loss for what to say, and settles for a simple nod.

Arakiel shrugs as she waves the harper into the hall, "Well, can I get you anything? Why are your here?"

Liesana fingers her rolled message hides. "I'm fine thanks, but I'm here with some messages for Reeba. Harper senior appy that's been staying here...?" Although it's not like Smith is crawling with Harpers.

Arakiel raises an eyebrow, "First Jueann stops by for a visit when we aren't here. And we have two apprentices staying and now another harper. What are we Harper Hall?"

Liesana shrugs, and offers a comment in a light tone. "Well, you know Harpers... Friendly as puppies and flitting about Pern like mad little Vtols, otherwise we're not keeping up to our reputation. I'm merely the messenger today, however." Therefore, don't shoot her?

Evan chuckles, "We should charge them for the use of our space."

Arakiel chuckles at Evan, "Maybe we should. Maybe we should just get one posted her and be done with it?"

Dennia walks in from the Balcony Landing.

Dennia skips most unladylike down the stairs, waving to one and all.

Arakiel nods to Dennia

Liesana's interest is perked at the mention of postings, she being the only journeyman of her batch without one. But naturally, it doesn't do to appear over-eager, so therefore she shifts attention to toss a wave and a grin at Dennia.

Dennia offers a wave as she passes by on her way to the sideboard with a simple "Klah, anyone?" without stopping.

Arakiel nods to Dennia, "Please." Turning back to Liesana, raises an eyebrow, waiting for the girl to speak.

Evan makes some seemingly random gestures.
Evan nods to Dennia. He frowns at LIesana, < signing something >

Dennia uh ha's perkily as she continues on her way, humming as she gets mugs for herself and the three others, filling a platter with pastries and putting it and the mugs on a tray with sweetener and cream. Four mugs and goodies is what she deems suitable until she remembers napkins and spoons. Happy now, she brings the tray to the small group. "Greetings," she almost sing songs as she puts the tray down and sits.

Liesana smiles at Dennia again, returning the greetings with a "Heyla," before turning to face Master Smith and Headwoman again. "If you're looking to have a Harper posted here, there are a couple of us journeypeople floating around. What sort of duties would you be wanting one for?"

Dennia's lips pull into an 'o' as she listens, eyes meeting Ara's.

Arakiel slides into her chair, catching Dennia's eye and shrugs. "That's up to Evan if we allow postings. I just keep order and make sure Evan has clean sheets and hot meals available."

Dennia takes a mug and seems to mutter something about knives before she sips, but smiles nicely at the trio.

Arakiel smirks at Dennia.

Liesana, apparently waiting for Evan to make his pronouncement, either for, agin, or come back later, selects a chair and one the the remaining klah mugs, sipping in eloquent silence, while privately wondering just what in Faranth's name is going on in the world of the unspoken.

Arakiel takes a mug of klah and a pastry, nodding a thanks at Dennia. "Well, Why do you wish to be posted at the Smiths?"

Evan takes a mug as Dennia comes by and turns to Liesana to answer her question. "Well, I"m sure many people would be interested in music in the evenings. The fosterlings and children need their ballads of course.

Cera gracefully moves in from the Courtyard.

Cera strolls in with a smile lightly gracing her lips, nodding a greating towards Evan, stops mid-stride as she spies someone she doesn't know. "Hrm..."

Arakiel nods to Cera. "Come join us Cera. Dennia has made fresh pastries."

Cera wrinkles her nose for just a moment wondering if Dennia made them pink, before saying, "Well I just might do that...thank you for the offer Arakiel" heading towards the gathered group.

Liesana nods, and sits forward slightly in the chair, balancing her klah mug on her knees. "I'm certainly capable of playing a few merry tunes, and any Harper Journeyman has been taught how to instruct in the ballads..." She trails off, and sketches a wave at Cera. "Liesana, with the Harpers." Then back to the conversation. "As for why I'd want a post at Smith... Yours is a Craft that interests me, and as my main specialty is Archives/Law, at least some of my other skills may be of use to you as well." Whether it's the Archives, or the Law, she leaves unsaid.

Dennia doesn't even ask, but goes for another mug of klah. She isn't at the sideboard long, definitely not a time to miss anything. With a smile and a toss of her hair she puts the mug in front of Cera before taking her seat.

Cera stares at the mug klah placed before her and slips a finger into the cup to test its temprature, seems to be just about just what she likes. "Thank you Dennia..." her words trailing off as she hears the Harper's responce. Nodding appreciatively as her thoughts collect together, she asks, "Whats this? Someone playing a merry tune? In Smith Hall?"

Arakiel shrugs, "Well I haven't seen much of those two harper apprentices that's been hanging around here for over a month."

Evan smiles to Cera. "Good evening Cera. I havn't seen you in a few sevendays." OF course, he hasn't been here in a few sevendays.

Dennia smiles at Cera, using her own mug and the sipping thereof as an excuse to keep silent, she watches and listens.

Arakiel turns to Evan, "They didn't miss us."

Cera shrugs non-commitedly to Evan's comment, since the craftmaster had disappeared without notifying her, she sips casually on her klah and ponders the course of action she will follow with the breach in decorum.

Dennia lowers her eyes. She noticed, she's been nice about it. She's not going to ask. She saw the veils in her laundry room.

Cera shakes off the strange feeling and turns toward the harper, asking, "Excuse my forthright questioning..but I have walked into the middle of the conversation. I take it you are here to play for a banquet or something? I did hear mention of a merry tune or two.."

Evan chuckles softly to himself at Cera's comment after the pause in conversation and lets Liesana answer for herself.

Dennia giggles into her mug, eyes dancing at Cera's misreading of the situation, as if she really knows what's going on herself. "I think we might be getting a permanent Harper, Master Cera," she says softly.

Liesana chuckles. "Well, to tell you the truth, I'm not quite sure what you've walked in on... I was officially here as a messanger, but it appears I'm now attempting to take a posting." A humorously arched eyebrow.

Cera sits upright with a bolt, spilling a bit of her klah as she goes, "Well then...that would grand indeed if we were to have a Harper at the hall...I so do love to hear music around the place..." Giving the table a good thwamp with her hand she extends a smile in Liesana's direction, "How about a gracing us then with a tune or two..." finishing her little speech with the other Smith's in mind, "You realize all of you ..we should try the runner out so to speak before we purchase it you know..." tipping her head in Liesana's direction, "She might not be able to play at all...and were would we be?"

Dennia almost jumps out of her seat at Cera's slapping hand, only a bit of klah spilling on the table. She's heard too many knives thump into tables to take such noises in stride. When her breating has returned to a semblance of normal she says "That would be nice."

Cera instantly wipes the frown from her face as she hears mention of the veils,"That reminds me Arakiel that I have a need to mention something to you....about the veils..."

Arakiel raises an eyebrow at Cera, "Yes" There's a dangerous glint in her eyes.

Liesana's eyes twinkle merrily in Cera's direction. "If I'd known I'd be performing, I'd have brought my gitar, but I'd not be averse to singing a capella, as it were. Of course, you'd have to let me know what you's like to hear." She includes Dennia in the smile, privately wondering if Dennia's reaction might be proof positive of the truth of the tales of Smithhall. Although a little excitement is enjoyable, even if it means that Kryz will never set foot in the place. But the conversation's taken an interesting turn away from her, so she settles quietly into her chair, and listens.

Cera places a stern look on her face and her shoulders square slightly off, "It would be appreciated by others who live here if your 'veils' remained in a more private domain. I hate to place an extra burden on people who are working hard already to..." shaking her head and leaving off the last part of her speech as she remembers they are in mixed company.

Dennia blushes and diverts her eyes from Evan and Ara. She heard where those veils were found, and it's not her business. She just has to make sure they got cleaned up.

Evan blinks in surprise. "You didn't travel with an instrument? That's the first time I've heard of a harper abandoning their livelihood

Liesana chuckles, and raises her hand, sporting a neat bandage across the palm. "No use carrying it with you if you can't play it. Healer's orders for at least a couple sevendays." A wrinkled nose. "Last time I volunteer to help out a friend gut fish.

Arakiel glares at Cera, "When you arrive home after a day walk from Ista and all you want is a hot bath, let me know." Sending Evan a 'look', she stands, "And I don't see it any of your business."

Evan carefully ignores the coversation between Cera and his wife. He responds to Liesana instead. "I can't say that I tend to listen to the healers much myself. But, then, my wife likes the scars."

Cera laughs heartily at Ara's reply, dismissing her last comment as an ineffectual statement, "When you become the Craftsecond then I will listen..till then...anyone who comes in this Hall has a duty to do, no matter how tired they are, and will not create extra work for someone else because of peevishness. I don't think you appreciate lazy Drudges and I don't appreciate people who think little of others. Arakiel you have heard my comments..do as you choose and I will follow the course of action I must. Simple enough."

Dennia oo's and stiffens as if prepared to duck and cover. Them's fighting words, even if she's never seen Cera with a blade.

Liesana very carefully sits back in her chair, and very carefully leaves Arakiel and Cera to their discussion. Harpers may mediate, but only when asked, and this really seems to have the tone of a battle fought before. So instead she nods at Evan. "Aye, scars can often give one quite an air, but my hands are my living as it were, so despite not really caring for the Infirmary, I know better than to get an infection.

Arakiel shrugs, dropping a blade into her hand. She isn't angry..... yet. More amused, then anything else. Suddenly, she laughs. "And why should I become part of the craft? I'm only here to be with Evan. Because he wants me to. The rest of you don't matter as long as I keep a clean hall. And if I'm tired and want only a bath... so what?"

Dennia doesn't like where this is going at all and gives the harper a sheepish smile as she and her mug slowly scoot away from Arakiel.

Cera nods as she listens to Arakiel's comments, if only for a brief moment, remarking, "It is apparent that that is /all/ you care about. Whether you care for those in the hall or not. What is said is said...and what to be done /is/ to be done." dismissing any more comments on the subject she turns her attention to the Harper once again, "I am sorry for the disruption..how rude of me...I think you were mentioning a ballad..perhaps you could choose one?" she asks in a softer toned voice.

Evan sighs, "I'm sure you two can settle the matter more peacably. We are adults after all."

Arakiel still chuckling, "Alright. I can be peaceful for once." But an evil, mischeivous glint enters her eyes. Oh dear. What is she up to now?

Cera lifts a dissaproving eyebrow towards Evan's comment and contimplates just how far she will actually push the issue. Having lost a modicum of respect for Evan as it is, she again turns her atttenion to the harper.

And Liesana decides it's high time for a song. "Well then, having been requested to trot out my talents, as it were, I'll see if I can shamelessly steal everyone's attention for a moment or two." A wink. "And feel free to toss rotten produce if I'm no good." Clearing her throat, she makes her choice, and begins to drum her toes to keep a tempo.

Bryon walks, swinging his cane but not really needing it anymore in from the Courtyard.

Cera chuckles, "Have no worry Liesana...I have a good aim.." winking in her direction. Settling herself back in her chair she closes her eyes for a moment in relaxation.

Dennia has been slowly edging away from Arakiel and Cera, knowing she's going to get hurt again, even if she isn't a target. Bryon's entrance could not have been more well timed, but she thinks the kitchen garden might be a nice place to be occupied for a while.
Dennia walks to the Kitchen.
Brigand blinks in from ::between::!

Evan nods to Bryon as he waits for the Harper to begin.

After a hummed arpeggio to tune herself, the young journeywoman's voice rises in a clear soprano, intonation softly soulful to match the feel of her song.

The Harper's path leads never homeward,
Though homeward the road may lie -
For ever beyond lies the deep blue sea
Or a patch of bright blue sky

She trails off a little, waiting out an unheard musical bridge, seeing if she should continue furthur.

Bryon walks, swinging his cane but not really needing it anymore to the Kitchen.

Cera's fingers on her left unconsciously sway to the music while she eyes the goup sitting before her from beneath the corner of her eyelashes. Sipping the last of her klah, she places the mug on the table.

Arakiel goes to the kitchen to direct the drudges, leaving the harper and the smiths to enjoy the conversation.

Well, no rotten produce so far... Liesana decides to give the chorus, a verse, and finish, musically trained mind wincing at how bare the song sounds without accompaniement, although it's likely that she's the only one noticing.

Pern, carry me on my wayward path,
My journey long and bold
And shelter me as I seek my fate
And let your folk be told:

A road is never the only road
And two ways have not one voice;
Choose your own way wisely, Friend,
And you shall not regret your choice.

And with her voice growing smoother, and more delicate, Liesana moves into the chorus, slowing almost imperceptibly near the end, before a soft finish.

The knowledge of Pern is boundless
As boundless the seas do flow;
Seek to learn and pass it on
For Pern and folk, we all must know.

Brigand trills along with the harper, quietly.

Arakiel with swishing of veils, steps to the Kitchen.