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 Posted: Sat Mar 14, 2009 5:54 pm
Surprisingly, Mo was by herself that morning. Her friend, Hesendek, was still in bed, giving her time to do her carving. It wasn't that she was secretive about her talent (probably the only one she had). She just didn't like other people asking annoying questions about it. How long had she been doing this? How did she get so good? Where did she get her materials? Where did she get her inspiration? It was not only annoying but very, very distracting and the Hold-born girl did not like to be distracted from her work. It was important.
Yesterday, she'd managed to get her hands on several blocks of scrap wood from the carpenters, all of which she intended to carve into something for her friend. After the Touching she'd become even more aware of the mistakes in her earlier carvings and was anxious to correct them. There was no excuse for shoddy craftsmanship, even if she had done the originals based on the one dragon she'd seen in her lifetime. His queen dragon needed to be fixed, and she wanted to make another queen curled around a Queen egg while the memory was still fresh.
Thus, with her belt knife, bits of wood and Fang seated comfortably on her shoulder, she began a search for a good, quiet corner for her to work in. The one she'd found yesterday had been perfect, if only she could find it again…
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Posted: Sat Mar 14, 2009 6:24 pm
Ennrik had become adept since coming to the Weyr at not being where he was supposed to be. He didn't know why he continued to go about in defiance of the rules, which were in place for perfectly good reasons, but he did. It wasn't that he didn't do his assigned tasks. He just tended to do them as quickly as he could, and then vanish as soon as he had done so. Usually his vanishing took place in a solitary manner.
It wasn't that he didn't like his fellow Candidates. They were all very interesting people, and he could find things to talk about with any of them, but he couldn't help seeking solitude every so often. It was the best way to practice his guitar. He'd brought it originally so that his father wouldn't sell it, but after two sevendays of having it seeming to glare at him from beneath his cot he'd remembered guiltily that he hadn't practiced since leaving Harper Hall, and that his skills were fairly meager to begin with when it came to playing the instrument.
He kept practicing because he was aware that he was old to be on the sands, even if there were others approximately his age, and he doubted he would Impress. In the case of that eventuality, he wanted to be able to go back to the Harpers. To be accepted back there, he would have to be damned contrite and convincing, as well as be able to demonstrate that he hadn't lost his skills. His voice wasn't likely to go, though he sang to himself when he was alone for reassurance on that count. He'd even sing in company, as long as it didn't start feeling like a performance. Through his experiments he'd learned that it was the atmosphere more than anything else that determined when his stage-fright would strike, and he could sing at casual gatherings.
He wasn't going to subject anyone to his guitar playing, however, until he was satisfied he would not offend anyone's ears. So he took his guitar and its case to a secluded spot he'd scouted out some time ago where he'd figured the sound wouldn't carry as well. The mostly stone corridors let sound carry much too well, though the echo effect could be lots of fun to play with, he was technically supposed to be elsewhere at the moment, and as the only person who had a guitar (that he was aware of) it would be obvious who wasn't where he should be if anyone heard him playing.
Ennrik's feet took him quickly and as silently as possible to where he wanted to be. Once there, he sat on the ground and slouched against the wall of what might have been a storage space or might simply have been an alcove. The dust had been thick there when he'd first found it, and mostly still was, but for where his shoulders and bum had been since he started using it. There, he unpacked his guitar, examining it critically for damage, which would be harder to repair at the Weyr than at Harper Hall. Then he formed the first fingerings of a chord and began to strum, humming a simple tune to go with it.
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Posted: Sat Mar 14, 2009 6:33 pm
Similarly, the former vintner was making her way towards the abandoned storage space. She had found that it was out of the way of many of the usual routes, making her less likely to be caught there. Mo was no stranger to punishment. She got into enough trouble back home whenever apprentices thought it was funny to play practical jokes on her or ask her to read things that were far beyond her level. Since her arrival at the Weyr, however, she had decided that it was in her best interests to simply avoid trouble. That way Hesen wouldn't be bothered by here and she would be more likely to be able to stay if he Impressed. They wouldn't let a troublemaker hang around, especially since she wasn't pretty. At least the pretty ones could keep the attention of the riders.
As she rounded the bend she was alerted to the presence of music by an excited warble from Fang. The flit's tail curled and uncurled around her neck as he bobbed his head, apparently enjoying the music. Mo, on the other hand, found herself scowling. If someone was playing music that meant only one thing: somebody had taken her spot. Spots like these were hard to come by, and she didn't have the time to be messing about finding new ones. Thus, drawing herself up to her full height, she strode forward until she was facing Ennrik.
For a moment she studied him through squinty eyes, before she said shortly, "Yer in my spot."
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Posted: Sat Mar 14, 2009 7:03 pm
Ennrik looked up at the girl who was both impressive and unimpressive at once. Impressive for her size and ownership of a firelizard, unimpressive for the rest of her. He'd occasionally found himself wondering how someone like her had ended up with a firelizard at all, since he recalled she had been an apprentice Vintner before being Searched, and that was not generally a craft or rank associated with firelizard ownership. He was also puzzled occasionally by her friendship with Hesendek, who seemed to be a generally likable young man. The fact that they were friends and that her firelizard stayed with her convinced Ennrik that she couldn't be as unimpressive as all that.
Her full height might have been more intimidating if he was younger, or perhaps less self-confident, but he was neither. So the look he turned on her when she made her statement was one of amused tolerance. If she decided to get physical, he would leave. It was just a spot, and he had noticed that she carried a sharp object and some blocks of wood. She whittled? Either way, he wouldn't put it past her to decide a physical altercation was the best way to solve things. She seemed a bit...primative at times. And, my, wasn't he becoming judgmental. Mentally he shook his head and reminded himself to stop it.
"I didn't see your name on it," he answered. But not challengingly. More than the sharp objects she held, he had to be wary of the firelizard. Those things, he was coming to learn, responded to their owners' emotions, and had a good deal less restraint than most humans.
"There's space enough for both of us. Unless my playing will bother you?" He didn't know why he was reluctant to relocate. Possibly because something about Gamoira brought out something argumentative in him. And, in all honesty, his playing probably would bother her. He hit wrong notes with just enough regularity that it was obvious he was no master of the guitar.
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Posted: Sat Mar 14, 2009 7:46 pm
There was a long pause as Gamoira scrutinized the young man before her. To anyone who didn't know her, it would have simply appeared that she was looking at him in the same way she looked at everyone else through her squinted eyes. To those that were fortunate – or unfortunate – enough to know her well they would have known that she was thinking. When she stayed completely still and did not punch the lights out of anyone who was starting trouble with her it meant that she was diverting some brain power. Thinking was not usually her strong point, thus is required extra effort. It didn't tend to last long, as Mo was only weighing options in her mind.
On one hand, she had a good feeling she could take him if she really wanted to. She could have probably forced him out of her spot and spent the rest of the day witling. However in order to get him out of the spot she might risk the exposure of this spot when he came back to tattle. Though he looked like he was around her age, boys were notorious for maturing slowly and thus she still expected him to be in the tattling stage of his life. Surely if she gave him a black eye he'd tell on her. That would be rather unfortunate. On the other hand she could take up his offer and sit with him. True, the area was big enough for the both of them, but she didn't like sitting with people who weren't Hesendek. Though, this young man hadn't said anything insulting. Yet. Perhaps she could give him the benefit of the doubt. He would get one chance.
Decision made, the gears stopped turning in Mo's mind and she settled herself down in the remaining space of the alcove. She made sure to leave as much space between them as she could, watching him with the sort of wariness that came second nature to her. "I don't care if ye play badly. Don't notice nothin' when it comes to guitarin'. Ye some aspirin' Harper er somethin'?"
Fang, on the other hand, seemed quite interested in Ennrik. He chirped and bobbed his head, waiting for the music to start again.
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Posted: Sat Mar 14, 2009 8:18 pm
Gamoira's scrutiny was not comfortable, but not nearly enough to provoke an attack of stage-fright. This was the sort of regard he was used to dealing with, actually. It wasn't that anything was expected from him. This was just dealing with someone who could be unpleasant. He had lots of experience with that, and he'd gotten pretty good at it. He'd also gotten very good at avoiding unpleasant people. He could have avoided this encounter, and the thought was still there at the edge of his mind, but he'd made the offer of sharing the space and it would be offensive to Gamoira. He didn't want to offend anyone. It went against his general policy of avoiding conflict.
There was definitely asperity in her response, but it wasn't outright rejection, and that would do. He doubted he'd be able to win her over, but if he could manage to avoid hitting too many bad notes, he might at least succeed in not annoying her. He was still debating whether he ought to try to make conversation about her apparent interest in wood carving. On one hand, it seemed like an easy opportunity to talk to her, as it was an obvious conversation topic. On the other hand, if she'd found this alcove, it was likely she wasn't in search of conversation or even companionship, and he was probably pushing his luck just by asking her to tolerate his presence.
"That's a relief. And yes, something like that. I'm a better singer than I am a guitarrist. It's a shame, really. I'm hardly a credit to the crafter who shaped this guitar. It's much too good for someone of my skill."
It went against most of his instincts to let anyone get close enough to the instrument to touch it, and he wasn't about to do so with a firelizard so near. Their curiosity could be destructive, he'd observed, even when they didn't mean for it to be. But he did caress the guitar's straight neck and perfectly-formed body in such a way that it was evident he appreciated its beauty, and which would draw an onlooker's eye to the instrument.
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Posted: Sun Mar 15, 2009 12:55 pm
Despite what Ennrik might have thought, she would not have been offended if he got up and left. She probably wouldn't have even been surprised. Quite frankly she was always a little impressed by people who willingly sat next to her, and even more so by people who offered up spots beside them for her. These things didn't happen every day, and while she didn't ever have to worry about boys offering her things for ulterior motives, she was always suspicious of people who did too many good things for her. It had taken her quite some time to get over that suspicion with Hesendek. So far Ennrik was only getting her usual wariness, as he hadn't done anything to make her think he was setting her up. Not bad, for a first time meeting.
Her eyes traced the contours of the guitar in his arms before she grunted in agreement. "'s a nice make. And ye are practicin' on it, not lettin' it get dusty so that's better than nothin'. Ye can always improve yer skills but ye'd have to buy a new guitar for yer better guitarin'." Gamoira shrugged. It seemed logical, to her that, if you wanted to be good at something and were dedicated enough to practice, an investment in a good piece if equipment was a fairly sound choice. She had saved up to buy herself a good belt knife before she was even relatively good at carvings. Speaking of which, she had come here with a purpose. The new figurines needed to at least be started, no matter what this wannabe Harper was doing.
Mo placed the blocks of wood down in front of her, dragging her fingers over them until she found the one she was looking for. It was the biggest by far, and for good reason. If she was going to carve the queen dragon and an egg it needed to be able to capture the whole dragon. There was a moment of quiet as she pictured what she wanted to do, and then without any deliberation she began cutting into the wood with her knife.
Fang, disappointed that there was no more music, clambered off her shoulder to investigate the blocks of wood.
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Posted: Sun Mar 15, 2009 1:57 pm
Ennrik's stellar interpersonal skills told him that Gamoira had no intention of saying anything further, and that there was really nothing he could say to spin her statement into a conversation. He wasn't even entirely certain he'd understood what she'd said. People in his hold spoke with a different accent, and slurred their words differently than she did, and he'd spent most of his life in Harper Hall, where everyone was rigid about pronunciation and the eradication of any sort of lingual variation. His first two years had been a torturous process as he rid himself of an accent he couldn't even tell he had at first. He'd understood and heard the difference between his speech patterns at once, but it took longer for him to make it a habit to speak as a Harper would, and not like someone from a small, rural hold.
And so, with his attempted conversation aborted, Ennrik returned to his original purpose, fingering the opening chord to a well-known teaching ballad, and then beginning to play. He was playing at a much slower tempo than it was meant to be taken at, but his mind needed the time to recall the chords that would follow and relay the message to his unwilling fingers. The work he'd been doing at the Weyr had stiffened his hands more than he wanted to consider, reminding him that he would have to take more care to wear gloves whenever possible, and to make sure to do flexibility exercises with his hands on those days when he couldn't steal away to practice.
He hummed softly along with the guitar, the words to the Question Song forming in his mind if not on his lips. He liked the haunting minor key and the accidental notes, even though these aspects made it a difficult piece to play. He liked the piece, too, even though the question it asked had been solved in the previous pass by Lessa, Weyrwoman of Benden Weyr and rider of golden Ramoth.
As he hummed and strummed he seemed to look into the distance, but his eyes were not as unfocused as they appeared. He was watching Gamoira's firelizard - Fang, he believed his name was - and also Gamoira's carving. The firelizard held more interest for him than the carving did, in truth, but the carving was interesting. He'd been forced to learn how to form a drum and he'd watched others with more skill in the area turn their skill to the creation of guitars and similar instruments made of precious wood. He had been allowed - once - to try his hand at woodworking, but the chance had quickly been taken away when the supervising Master got too nervous that he might accidentally make one of the grooves too deep and destroy the integrity of the instrument.
From the Question Song he segued into a song written by a Harper from Lessa's time. It was a more light-hearted tune, and far simpler, meant to commemorate an experience in her life. He knew the words to this one, too, even though it was not part of the traditional set of pieces every Harper had to know. He knew this one because he liked it. It was set in a singable range and the subject was one everyone loved: firelizards. To be fair, maybe everyone didn't like firelizards, but there were few people who actively disliked them. He thought the song might appeal to Fang, even if the creature couldn't understand the lyrics he sang softly.
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Posted: Sun Mar 15, 2009 3:34 pm
Gamoira did her best to ignore the Harper as he played, especially when he started with the well-known teaching ballad. That song was definitely not one of her favourites, partly because she had heard it so many times and partly because it had caused her so much grief as a child. Despite the fact that all the lines rhymed she had never been able to remember all of the words. Thus, when the Harper would call on her to sing the next part of the song she would be unable to do so. The inability to properly learn the song was what had started the downward spiral of her parents' opinion of her. She knew it now, of course, but finally being able to learn a children's teaching ballad at nineteen turns was embarrassing. Needless to say, she did not like it and was glad when he moved on.
Now able to concentrate on her witling and not on memories of her unfortunate times with the Duty Song, the shape of the dragon slowly began to form. First the beautiful arched neck, then the back and then finally to the two pronged tail. She held it away from her to study it, before bringing it back into view and beginning to add in more detail. The dragon's body began to take shape, curled around the vaguely-carved mound that would be the queen egg. Her expression had slowly changed from a scowl to a look of deep concentration as she tried to capture the expression of the Gold in the wood. She did not look angry, yet Mo remembered that the air around her had felt very agitated, as though she wished to defend her clutch but was forced to let the candidates touched them. It was a hard emotion to carve.
As she gently worked her knife to create the Queen's eyes and head knobs, Fang was watching Ennrik with what was probably fascination. He bobbed his head as the songs changed, flapping his wings whenever the tempo increased. It was hard to stay still, sitting on his girl when there was such pretty music behind played. He had just had enough of sitting quietly and was about to go investigate the strange music-making instrument when he felt a finger touch him firmly on the back of the head.
"Stay, Fang. He won't play for ye if ye bother him."
The blue flit chattered and wiggled out from underneath the finger, but he did as he was told.
Mo held the figurine out in front of her again, tilting it this way and that to get a good look at the angles. Hrm…. not quite, but it was getting there. She still couldn't seem to get that expression on the Queen's face. She looked much too docile in this. It was very frustrating.
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Posted: Sun Mar 15, 2009 4:17 pm
Ennrik didn't have any practical experience with performing, since the usual kind of performance he had attempted left him nearly hyperventilating, but he had a pretty good feel for when he had chosen the wrong music for his audience nevertheless. He could play and sing for smaller groups, after all, especially if the atmosphere wasn't oppressive and he didn't feel that anything much was expected of him. Which wasn't quite the right way to put it. If it felt like a performance, he felt the pressure of stage-fright. Otherwise he was fine. He was actually fine at auditions, too, which everyone agreed made no sense.
At any rate, his sense for when he'd chosen the wrong piece let him know that Gamoira wasn't enjoying his rendition of the Question Song, and it wasn't just that he'd managed to flub some of the notes. It was partly that and partly a desire to amuse the blue firelizard that had prompted him to change to the song by Master Menolly. He was watching the firelizard intently, trying some of the tricks of a Harper's trade that worked better on humans on the winged creature. He knew how to catch and hold a person's gaze while he was singing so that the person would come to him when he finished, and that was what he tried on the firelizard Fang. It wasn't fair, perhaps, as firelizards were empathic and could probably read what he wanted even without his efforts, but he was a little flattered that Fang looked about to investigate.
"It's all right," he said, breaking out of the song vocally, though continuing to play the guitar. "As long as he isn't inclined to munching on guitars or their strings I don't mind his interest. It's the first time I've played for an audience for some time."
His eyes followed her hands as she held out her carving. A dragon. It was wood, and so he couldn't really tell what color she meant it to be - perhaps a blue, judging by its apparent docility - but it was well done. He thought he might say so, but her expression was dissatisfied, and he found few things as irritating as when he was trying to get something just so and others said it was fine the way was. No, it wasn't, thank you. So if she wasn't happy with the way her piece looked so far, he would keep his comments to himself.
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Posted: Sun Mar 15, 2009 6:52 pm
Her eyes darted over to him as he spoke, considering his words. "Dunno. He never seen a guitar up close." Still, that was permission enough. If the Harper got upset when her flit was too rough with his guitar then it would be his fault for allowing the firelizard to come that close. Not that she thought he would do anything. Fang, despite his name, was quite the mild tempered flit. She gave him a scritch under the chin before gesturing with her free hand towards the Harper. Fang gave an excited warble and flapped his wings to close the distance between himself and Ennrik. He landed a little awkwardly on the young man's shoulder, tail curling around his neck instinctively for balance. The audience had properly arrived.
Content that her firelizard was occupied, Mo made to return to her work. It was then that she realized that the Harper sitting near her was a candidate. As far as she could remember, he had been at the Touching, and if he had been at the Touching then he would remember what the Queen had look like. She turned to look at him again, gears grinding to a start as she weighed her options. Usually she liked to just go back and have a look at the original subject, but that would mean trying to find those elusive holes that let you see in the Hatching Sands. Doing that might evoke a completely different reaction from her subject, however, not to mention potentially getting her into serious trouble. It was probably safer just to ask the Harper.
"Ye were at the Touchin', yeah? What did the Queen's face look like?"
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Posted: Sun Mar 15, 2009 8:39 pm
Ennrik nodded, taking the warning behind Gamoira's words and deeming it an acceptable risk. He was fascinated by firelizards, and absolutely unable to resist the temptation of being able to have one around, even if it wasn't his. And, though this was silly, he liked Fang's voice. Like humans and dragons, firelizards' voices were different, he was learning. It actually wasn't difficult to hear the differences in vocal range or in habits, one you got used to listening to it. He was nothing like adept, and since he spent less time in the firelizards' presence than their owners he wasn't able to identify most of them by the sounds they made, but a few of them were familiar enough that he could. Fang wasn't one of them; he didn't spend enough time with his owner for that sort of familiarity. But having heard a little of Fang's voice he decided he liked how the firelizard expressed himself.
"I'll risk it," he said.
Accepting the risk to his instrument didn't stop him from stiffening instantly when Fang landed on his shoulder and wrapped his tail around his neck. He'd forgotten momentarily that his voice was his primary instrument. He had grown very protective of his neck and throat since discovering that his voice worth protecting, and it was instinctive to feel a moment of panic when something went around his neck like that. He forced himself to relax and grip his guitar normally as he settled into a position which was more accommodating for his audience. Thus settled, he began a more upbeat tune that was usually considered a dancing piece. Warmed up, his hands were capable of it with minimal error.
"I was at the Touching," he agreed. He couldn't remember if Gamoira had been there. The tunnel vision had been pretty severe. "The queen's face was...imperious. She looked very much like she was aware that she's in charge of the Weyr, and like possibly all of Pern might be too limited of a realm for someone of her grand status. But she was also very watchful and protective of her eggs. Her eyes were very intense."
It didn't occur to him that she might be using his description for her carving until he had already spoken. Only then did he realize that his description was probably useless for a carver, and that he probably should have focused on proportions and shapes. But that wasn't what he had noticed about the queen. He had noticed the other things. They'd been hard to ignore, really.
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Posted: Mon Mar 16, 2009 3:58 pm
Fang did not appear to notice his perch's stiffening. Being not as smart as his dragon cousins and not near as intelligent as even a gold firelizard, it probably would have been hard to explain to the little blue flit why Ennrik wanted to protect his throat. Not to mention Mo had purposefully trained him to use her sturdy neck for balance rather than her braid, as a young Fang had nearly pulled it out while trying to cling to it. Her neck was a much safer anchor, even if it was a little vital.
The flit bobbed his head when the music started, many faceted eyes whirling in delight. Yay music! And it was happy music! The thing in the man's hand must be happy! With his wings tucked against his body and his little toes holding firmly onto Ennrik's shirt sleeve, Fang began to bob more excitedly, adding his own little chirps to the song whenever he pleased. This was fun!
Gamoira listened as Ennrik described the Queen, brain automatically skipping over any words it didn't know. An air of leadership and perhaps nobility, if that was what he was getting at, could translate into a more graceful arch of the neck perhaps. Grace in great size. It was a foreign concept and one she wouldn't have been inclined to believe in until she had seen the large queen. But indeed, if she made the neck more elegant and the face more regal it would quite possibly make the Queen look better.
And then Ennrik touched on something she had passed over. Intense eyes. She had first thought to avoid doing too much detail in the eyes because there would be no colour in the sculpture. Since dragons expressed themselves best by the colour of their eyes – or so Hesen had told her – she had sought to find other ways to make the Queen look impressive. Perhaps making the expression and the shape of the eyes a little more intense…
She gently began work around the eyes of the gold dragon, adding in little bits here and there to give the face more expression. It seemed to be working, because when she held the carving away from her again it looked much better. Mo made a pleased noised. Much better. Now to work on the Queen egg. She gave the wood a few more scrapes with her knife before she held it out in front of Ennrik. "What's it look like te ye?"
Fang, meanwhile, sought to take advantage of the humans' distraction and was reaching down with one 'hand' to touch the guitar in Ennrik's arms.
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Posted: Tue Mar 17, 2009 4:28 pm
The firelizard's position remained a distraction to Ennrik, who was consciously forcing himself not to tense up the muscles in his neck and shoulders for protection. That was not good for singing, and it would make his muscles sore even if he didn't sing anymore. When Fang gripped his shirt and moved with the music, Ennrik found himself terrified that the little creature would lose his balance. He couldn't imagine he, Ennrik, would come out well from such a happenstance, as Fang would probably use his wings to stabilize himself, and the claws at the ends of them looked sharp. He was pleased, though, that his audience seemed to enjoy the music he produced.
He kept his gaze apparently unfocused while watching Gamoira work and thought that he would have to revise his initial opinion of her. She was skilled at woodcraft in a way he never would be, and she was approximately his age. Maybe their interests were so divergent that they would never become friends, but there were lots of people like that in the world, if he was to be honest with himself - and he usually tried to be. It didn't bother him overmuch. It did bother him that he had taken such an instinctive view that Gamoira was somehow a more primitive sort of human. That sort of conclusion was the sort that came from a person's upbringing, and he couldn't place when he had acquired that prejudice against....whatever it was about her that had initially repulsed him.
And maybe it was stupid to allow her skill at woodcarving change his opinion of her, but that was the way the world worked: you learn something new about something and you either make it fit your existing definition of the thing or you alter your definition. Usually there was some trial and error involved there before determining the exact criteria for expanding your definition, but Ennrik doubted he'd get many opportunities for tests with Gamoira. So he had to come up with a more flexible way to categorize her in his mind. He'd like to say he didn't categorize people, but he did. Everyone does.
He was more than a little proud of himself that his hands had continued to form the chords to a piece as his mind wandered. As his mind considered these things his eyes really did unfocus, but he drew himself sharply back to attention at her question. The obvious answer which would probably be the wrong one to give would be that it looked like a dragon. The one she was clearly looking for was that it looked like a queen with an egg. Since she'd asked about the gold, and since he could think of no other color that would curl around an egg so.
"It looks like a queen guarding her egg. You've done a good job showing the line of her body in that stance." At least, he assumed she had. He probably would have known it for what it was, even if he hadn't been able to make extrapolations based on their conversation.
Because he was hypersensitive to his unusual passenter, Ennrik was extraordinarily aware that Fang was shifting his weight and it seemed logical that the firelizard would seek tactile contact with the guitar. He was making a sincere effort to allow the firelizard to explore, though he thought some of his anxiety might have gotten to the empathic creature. He hoped it hadn't, since he didn't want to accidentally scare Fang off. He was just naturally protective of the precious instrument.
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Posted: Tue Mar 17, 2009 6:21 pm
Fang crooned softly as he touched the guitar, growing bolder when his little hands were not swatted away. It felt wooden, like his girl's sculptures, and so he tried to do as little damage as possible. He remembered very clearly being scolded very harshly for putting claw marks in one of his girl's wooden bits and he did not wish to evoke the same reaction from the music-maker. He wasn't as frightening as the blue flit's girl was, but just because something looked nice didn't mean it was nice. He remembered that lesson as well.
Indeed, the wrong answer would have been dragon. Mo would have been very unimpressed if that was all the Harper could come up with. She might have accepted 'dragon guarding egg', or even 'large firelizard guarding clutch' but to just say it was a dragon would be the equivalent of saying that green dragons were green. It was beyond obvious. Thus, when he said it looked like a queen guarding her egg, the young woman grunted her approval. The compliment was simply met with a half-hearted nod and a shrug, Mo rarely giving much thought to the criticism or praise of those who were not her friends. Just him saying what it was was good enough for her.
"They protect 'em with their life, says the stories," she muttered as she turned the figurine around in her hands again. It would need a tune up when she got back to her quarters, but that was fiddly work. That kind of thing would wait until she had time, which she didn't have now. No doubt Hesendek was probably wandering the halls in search of her now, and she had best be going to look for him. That boy was probably talking to some girl who wasn't good enough for him. The thought made her lip curl. Gamoira would show anyone who was talking to her friend who was boss.
Pocketing the figurine and her belt knife, she hauled herself to her feet and jerked her head at Fang. The firelizard made a mournful sound at having to leave the wooden music thing, but came when he was called. He offered Ennrik a good-bye chirp before he settled comfortably on his girl's shoulder. Mo stood for a moment, looking a little awkward, before she made a gesture that could have possibly be a wave. "Later, Harper." That was as good a good-bye as he would get from her, and after shoving her hands in her pockets she sauntered off.
Now to find Hesendek and make sure nobody was doing anything inappropriate to him.
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