(no subject)
Who: Emmi, Rylie (NPC), Rodric, Kadavy
Where: Courtyard, Harper Hall
When: 18:57 on day 1, month 8, Turn 11, of the Interval. It is a summer evening.
What: Emmi has charge of her neice for the afternoon, and they meet Rodirc and Kadavy in the Courtyard.
Courtyard
The courtyard is the heart of the Harper Hall quadrangle, a vast expanse of
grey flagstone without a trace of greenery. Several shallow flights of
stairs tiptoe their way upward to a variety of doors around the courtyard's
perimeter. The towering cliff walls of the Fort Mountains surge upwards in
sheer splendor, the drum heights precariously toed into a large outcropping,
as if climbing the wall. Several broad windows pierce the solid rock face,
giving an air of lightness and welcome. The bustle and sheer exuberance of
the courtyard atmosphere threaten to take your breath away.
As you pause, getting your bearings, your eyes scan the yard. The massive
doors of the Main Hall rest at the top of a small flight of stairs to the
west. The staircase to the drum heights rises to the northwest. The
apprentice dorms are located to the north, while the entrance to the
instrument workshop is northeast. The broad expanse of the arch crouches to
the east, with the Voice Master's rooms to the south. A small flight of
stairs in the southwest corner darts down into the kitchen.
Happy laughter floats over the Courtyard, where children and apprentices are
playing and socializing as the sun lowers and darkness falls. Along one side
of the wall, Emmi is following around a tottering little, who seems absorbed
in things that she's finding on the ground-- mostly rocks of different
colors and sizes. She finds one, holding it up in her clumsy fingers to the
Apprentice, who takes it and examines it, admiring the little girl's choice.
"That's lovely," she murmurs, before passing it downwards again.
The Masterharper's long legs are an obstacle for some of those playing a
lively game of tag. Every now and then a small child starts to run that way
and at the last minute realizes he or she is about to bump into Rodric and
swerves rapidly, creating a funny sort of repeated curving running pattern
around the Courtyard. There's a slate or two next to the Master, but he's
not reading either at the moment, leaning back against the bench, hands
folded behind his head, he seems to just be basking in the lighter
atmosphere that another Thread-free day has brought.
The little girl tottles towards the Masterharper, Emmi lagging a bit behind
her as she ventures forth. A piece of chalk laying on the ground among the
Master's slates has caught her attention, and she bends over carefully to
retrieve it, expression knotting as she tries to figure out what it is. "Oh
no, Rylie, not that!" Emmi calls out, rushing to catch up with her young
charge. Helping steady her as the little stands, Emmi adds politely, "Good
evening, Masterharper."
Just on his way out to enjoy the summer evening is Kadavy, for once devoid of
sketch pad as he ambles forth from the main hall by himself. For all he's
not actively working, his mind still seems to be on that, because it's
certainly not on the circuitous path he walks without ever really seeing it.
As such, he doesn't notice Rodric, Emmi, or the little girl until he's
almost upon them, at which point he stops cold and just blinks, as though
surprised to find them in his path.
Rodric grins as the child approaches. "Hey there," he says gently and shifts
to a more upright posture from the semi-recline he'd adopted. The setting
sun casts a warm glow, the shadow of the bench he sits on a sharp dark
oblong on the wall of the Hall. "That's chalk." For Rylie, the information
provided, the Masterharper looks up at Emmi's hail. "Good evening Emmi,
Kadavy," he includes the artist in the greeting as he draws near.
Rylie looks up at Emmi at the Masterharper's words, looking for further
information. "Chalk?" She pipes, in a soft soprano voice. Emmi nods. "It's
used for writing," she explains, then adds, "Good evening, Journeyman." To
both, she says, "This is my niece, Rylie." Emmi's hand strokes the girl's
pale, pale blonde hair as she beams to both Master and Journeyman.
"Sir," Kadavy replies, though most of his attention focuses warily on the
girl. "Hey," is added to Emmi, as he glances over to her briefly. Then: "Not
yours," he confirms, though mostly for himself since Emmi just explained the
relation. "She's cute. How old?"
Rodric nods a couple of times. "As Emmi says, it's for writing. Or drawing,"
he adds with a broad grin. "Ahh, your niece, so one of Noemie's children?"
inquires Rodric politely. A slight smile twitches at the corner of his lips
for Kadavy's remark. "How are you this evening Kadavy?"
"/Not/ mine," Emmi confirms, as if the idea of her having children of her own
is rather absurd. "But yes, Noemie's, and R'layn's, also of Ista. She's just
past two Turns now." The little girl seats herself on the ground, noting
that the three Harpers are now engaging in Adult Conversation, and begins to
rake her fingers through the ground with great concentration.
"I'm fine, sir," Kadavy answers Rodric. "Killing a little time until I'm
supposed to meet someone later." For the moment, he moves to seat himself on
a bench as well, stretching his legs out comfortably while he glances
between Rodric and Emmi and then the child. "Are you keeping her for a while
or something?" he wonders. "Or just the day, or...?"
"You can see the family resemblance, though," notes Rodric, tilting a closer
look at Rylie and leaning down towards the girl, he wipes one of the slates
clean and offers it to her. "Go ahead, you can draw on that one." The other
he slides further out of reach, its contents doubtless more important. "Glad
to hear it," for Kadavy and quiets to hear the answer to his question.
"She's fostered here," Emmi explains. "I'm just taking her for the evening."
She settles herself on the ground near the girl, with a quiet decorum for
all that she's getting herself dusty as the tot. "Thank you, Masterharper,"
Emmi says, as she picks up the slate to shows Rylie what to do. The little
girl is soon scribbling away, and Emmi notes as she watches, "Yes, there is
quite a resemblance, although our coloring is night and day."
"Fostered to the Hall?" says Kadavy, brows arching. "What, the Weyr nannies
not good enough or something? Though, can't say I'd let /my/ kids get raised
in that kind of environment." Pause. "If I had kids," he amends himself
then.
"Why not at the Hall?" the Master's brows lift at Kadavy. "I brought my
daughter here to raise her, seemed to work out rather well. Though harpers
are busy folk, we are perhaps, a little less so than riders?"
Emmi nods in response to the Masterharper's words. "We are, indeed. My mother
was eager to help raise her grandchild, as well. And Noemie truly wanted her
daughters to be raised among Harpering. She'd like a Harper life for Rylie
far more than one of a dragonrider." The words have been directed at Kadavy,
and she now looks down at the little. Rylie has stopped mindlessly
scribbling and draws with purpose, although whatever it is her picture is
supposed to be of is a mystery.
"Yeah, but that's /your/ daughter at /your/ home," says Kadavy, shaking his
head. "Sir. I just wouldn't want to send mine off somewhere away from me,
not that I'd rather keep 'em at the Weyr. But then, it's not like I'm going
to live at a Weyr myself or anything, so." A shrug. "None of my business,
though, I don't guess."
"If I ever have children, they'll stay with me," Emmi admits. "But the way
things are, I'm glad the girls are here. I love them like my own daughters,
and I think Noemie is realistic in understanding that she can't be a mother
to them they way she would like to be."
"Yeah," says Kadavy, nodding once. "Mine, too, I figure." Another shrug,
though, and in curiosity he leans forward a little, forearms resting on his
knees while he peeks at what Rylie is drawing. "I guess that counts for
something," he adds absently to Emmi's latter words.
Rylie's scribbles are just that-- scribbles-- but to her, they certainly look
like something. Finally, after a moment in which the two Harpers are
watching her, she looks up and declares, "A dragon!" If one looks closely,
they'd see the vague resemblance, but just barely. "Lovely," Emmi coos. "It
looks a little like your Da's. Too big to be Naijath."
Rodric has been listening and watching, a rather indulgent look on his face
for Rylie's scribbles. "Indeed, having children amongst family, rather than
the anonymity of the Weyr's children's caverns might be a preference for
some," he muses, voice light. "I'm actually hoping that some of my
grandchildren may eventually choose a Harpering life."
"I'm sure that Ma feels the same way," Emmi says. "Though I didn't know that
you had grandchildren youreself, Master Rodric. Or are you speaking in a
rhetorical sense?" As she talks, she takes the slate and rubs it clean
before handing it back to her niece, who begins the drawing process again.
"My eldest daughter, Rodmilla, lives in Nerat," elaborates Rodric with a
slight smile, "and has six children, four granddaughters and two grandsons
for me. I don't get to see them nearly as often as I'd like." He tilts a
look Emmi's way. "Must be nice to be able to get to know your niece."
Emmi's eyes grow wide. "How did I not know that?" she asks, although the
'living in Nerat' part helps explain this. "It is nice," she continues,
watching Rylie's drawing, long lines without lifting the chalk from the
board. "Being with her makes me feel like I could be a mother, myself,
someday-- but not yet. Certainly /not/ yet."
"I wouldn't want any of my family here," Kadavy breaks his silence of watching
the budding artist, adding a distant sort of shoulder-lift to the words.
"Underfoot, hassling me all the time. My nephews are just trouble--don't
have any nieces, actually, yet. My family's definitely boy-heavy."
"It's not something I generally talk about much," says Rodric casually. "I
tend to keep my family life private." He smiles sunnily at Emmi. "Wait to
walk the tables at least, but yes, being a parent can be a very rewarding
experience. Difficult, but rewarding." His gaze shifts over to Kadavy.
"Think they'd terrorize the Hall, Kadavy?" quips the Master.
"That's certainly true. It's the first time I've heard you speak about them,"
Emmi comments to the Masterharper, "And I feel that I talk with you all the
time." To Kadavy, "Our family is certainly the opposite-- us three girls,
then Noemie's two. Don't know when there'll be a boy among us." She looks at
the two men as she speaks, then down once more towards her niece, who is
completely absorbed by her artwork.
Kadavy's mouth twists dryly. "Well, me, at least, I'm sure. Every time I've
ever been home they've got into my charcoal and my paint and everything."
Then, to Emmi, he observes, "Oh. Huh. Guess it's weird how it works out like
that sometimes. I've got four brothers myself--I'm in the middle."
Sympathy crinkles the Masterharper's face. "Ach, sounds like a mess. But then
young children do like to have fun with those sorts of materials." Rodric
leans back against the bench once more, head tilted slightly to catch the
last rays of the setting sun as it drops behind the walls and the courtyard
is cast into shadow. "I've got sixteen siblings myself. Don't know them all
very well for that matter. I'm towards the end of the passel as my mother
likes to say, but they offloaded me here when I was pretty young. They stop
by several times per turn though, the caravan, to trade, to visit."
"And they have boundless curiosity, as well," Emmi adds, understanding how
children could get into charcoal and paint. "I know this one certainly does
already, and she'll get even moreso. Avelie was like that, also. Still is,
for that matter." At Rodric, her eyes once again grow a little wide.
"/Sixteen?/ I don't know if I could stand it. Of course, I'm also the
eldest, and I don't think I would have done well with older siblings
taunting and bothering me." When she finally grows quiet, Rylie lifts up the
slate a little, holding it towards the Masterharper. "You!" she cries to
him, showing him her portrait-- which doesn't look much like a human at all.
"Yeah, but they don't know what they're /doing/ with them," complains Kadavy.
"They just... scribble. It's not art. They aren't even trying for it to be."
In disgust, he shakes his head, then shoots a quick glance sideways at
Rodric. "/Sixteen/?" he echoes Emmi, and just shakes his head, apparently
astounded enough to have no further comment on that.
Rodric tilts his head to the side, regarding Rylie's 'portrait' of him. "Yes,
I see!" he responds enthusiastically. "That's very nicely done." He looks up
and over at Kadavy. "It's not art /now/ but it could be some day. You can't
tell me you were born reproducing our finest illuminations now can you,
Kadavy?" He winks at the Journeyman, then settles back against the bench
once more. "Mm. My parents married young."
"Young?" Emmi picks up on the word. "I certainly hope that Noemie doesn't end
up with sixteen! Two, on occasion, I can handle." She smiles a little at
Rylie's pride in her work, and takes the slate to wipe it clean once more.
To Kadavy, she gestrues a little with the slate in hand. "Now, just because
she scribbles now, does that mean she'll never be a great artist?"
"Yep. It's not so bad though to have a large family when you're part of a
trading clan. Everyone helps out. It's tight-knit." Rodric falls silent
after that remark, grinning as he watches Emmi wipe his 'likeness' away.
"I understand not being perfect, needing to learn," says Kadavy with a shake
of his head. "But they're not interested in getting better. They only want
to dig their fingers into the paint and smear it on things willy-nilly. I
mean, even /she's/--" he points to Rylie "--is making some effort at
actually making a picture. It's a step above my nephews, anyway."
"Ahh so they're really only in it for the mess?" Rodric tilts a look at
Kadavy. "That's a shame."
"Maybe also for the fact that they want to emulate you, since they look up to
you," Emmi suggests. She hands the once again clean slate back to the
Masterharper, rising and helping Rylie to her feet as well. "I'm afraid it's
this little one's bedtime," she says. Rylie stumbles a bit as she rises,
holding tight to her aunt's hand. "Good evening, Masterharper, Journeyman,"
Emmi says, tugging the hand and the girl it belongs to back inside.
"Yeah, it is," agrees Kadavy, before shooting a glance at Emmi. He shrugs, a
noncommital sort of answer as he turns to stand himself. "Should be going,
too," he notes. "Sir." The latter in parting, accompanied by a nod, toward
Rodric as he heads indoors again, too.
Where: Courtyard, Harper Hall
When: 18:57 on day 1, month 8, Turn 11, of the Interval. It is a summer evening.
What: Emmi has charge of her neice for the afternoon, and they meet Rodirc and Kadavy in the Courtyard.
Courtyard
The courtyard is the heart of the Harper Hall quadrangle, a vast expanse of
grey flagstone without a trace of greenery. Several shallow flights of
stairs tiptoe their way upward to a variety of doors around the courtyard's
perimeter. The towering cliff walls of the Fort Mountains surge upwards in
sheer splendor, the drum heights precariously toed into a large outcropping,
as if climbing the wall. Several broad windows pierce the solid rock face,
giving an air of lightness and welcome. The bustle and sheer exuberance of
the courtyard atmosphere threaten to take your breath away.
As you pause, getting your bearings, your eyes scan the yard. The massive
doors of the Main Hall rest at the top of a small flight of stairs to the
west. The staircase to the drum heights rises to the northwest. The
apprentice dorms are located to the north, while the entrance to the
instrument workshop is northeast. The broad expanse of the arch crouches to
the east, with the Voice Master's rooms to the south. A small flight of
stairs in the southwest corner darts down into the kitchen.
Happy laughter floats over the Courtyard, where children and apprentices are
playing and socializing as the sun lowers and darkness falls. Along one side
of the wall, Emmi is following around a tottering little, who seems absorbed
in things that she's finding on the ground-- mostly rocks of different
colors and sizes. She finds one, holding it up in her clumsy fingers to the
Apprentice, who takes it and examines it, admiring the little girl's choice.
"That's lovely," she murmurs, before passing it downwards again.
The Masterharper's long legs are an obstacle for some of those playing a
lively game of tag. Every now and then a small child starts to run that way
and at the last minute realizes he or she is about to bump into Rodric and
swerves rapidly, creating a funny sort of repeated curving running pattern
around the Courtyard. There's a slate or two next to the Master, but he's
not reading either at the moment, leaning back against the bench, hands
folded behind his head, he seems to just be basking in the lighter
atmosphere that another Thread-free day has brought.
The little girl tottles towards the Masterharper, Emmi lagging a bit behind
her as she ventures forth. A piece of chalk laying on the ground among the
Master's slates has caught her attention, and she bends over carefully to
retrieve it, expression knotting as she tries to figure out what it is. "Oh
no, Rylie, not that!" Emmi calls out, rushing to catch up with her young
charge. Helping steady her as the little stands, Emmi adds politely, "Good
evening, Masterharper."
Just on his way out to enjoy the summer evening is Kadavy, for once devoid of
sketch pad as he ambles forth from the main hall by himself. For all he's
not actively working, his mind still seems to be on that, because it's
certainly not on the circuitous path he walks without ever really seeing it.
As such, he doesn't notice Rodric, Emmi, or the little girl until he's
almost upon them, at which point he stops cold and just blinks, as though
surprised to find them in his path.
Rodric grins as the child approaches. "Hey there," he says gently and shifts
to a more upright posture from the semi-recline he'd adopted. The setting
sun casts a warm glow, the shadow of the bench he sits on a sharp dark
oblong on the wall of the Hall. "That's chalk." For Rylie, the information
provided, the Masterharper looks up at Emmi's hail. "Good evening Emmi,
Kadavy," he includes the artist in the greeting as he draws near.
Rylie looks up at Emmi at the Masterharper's words, looking for further
information. "Chalk?" She pipes, in a soft soprano voice. Emmi nods. "It's
used for writing," she explains, then adds, "Good evening, Journeyman." To
both, she says, "This is my niece, Rylie." Emmi's hand strokes the girl's
pale, pale blonde hair as she beams to both Master and Journeyman.
"Sir," Kadavy replies, though most of his attention focuses warily on the
girl. "Hey," is added to Emmi, as he glances over to her briefly. Then: "Not
yours," he confirms, though mostly for himself since Emmi just explained the
relation. "She's cute. How old?"
Rodric nods a couple of times. "As Emmi says, it's for writing. Or drawing,"
he adds with a broad grin. "Ahh, your niece, so one of Noemie's children?"
inquires Rodric politely. A slight smile twitches at the corner of his lips
for Kadavy's remark. "How are you this evening Kadavy?"
"/Not/ mine," Emmi confirms, as if the idea of her having children of her own
is rather absurd. "But yes, Noemie's, and R'layn's, also of Ista. She's just
past two Turns now." The little girl seats herself on the ground, noting
that the three Harpers are now engaging in Adult Conversation, and begins to
rake her fingers through the ground with great concentration.
"I'm fine, sir," Kadavy answers Rodric. "Killing a little time until I'm
supposed to meet someone later." For the moment, he moves to seat himself on
a bench as well, stretching his legs out comfortably while he glances
between Rodric and Emmi and then the child. "Are you keeping her for a while
or something?" he wonders. "Or just the day, or...?"
"You can see the family resemblance, though," notes Rodric, tilting a closer
look at Rylie and leaning down towards the girl, he wipes one of the slates
clean and offers it to her. "Go ahead, you can draw on that one." The other
he slides further out of reach, its contents doubtless more important. "Glad
to hear it," for Kadavy and quiets to hear the answer to his question.
"She's fostered here," Emmi explains. "I'm just taking her for the evening."
She settles herself on the ground near the girl, with a quiet decorum for
all that she's getting herself dusty as the tot. "Thank you, Masterharper,"
Emmi says, as she picks up the slate to shows Rylie what to do. The little
girl is soon scribbling away, and Emmi notes as she watches, "Yes, there is
quite a resemblance, although our coloring is night and day."
"Fostered to the Hall?" says Kadavy, brows arching. "What, the Weyr nannies
not good enough or something? Though, can't say I'd let /my/ kids get raised
in that kind of environment." Pause. "If I had kids," he amends himself
then.
"Why not at the Hall?" the Master's brows lift at Kadavy. "I brought my
daughter here to raise her, seemed to work out rather well. Though harpers
are busy folk, we are perhaps, a little less so than riders?"
Emmi nods in response to the Masterharper's words. "We are, indeed. My mother
was eager to help raise her grandchild, as well. And Noemie truly wanted her
daughters to be raised among Harpering. She'd like a Harper life for Rylie
far more than one of a dragonrider." The words have been directed at Kadavy,
and she now looks down at the little. Rylie has stopped mindlessly
scribbling and draws with purpose, although whatever it is her picture is
supposed to be of is a mystery.
"Yeah, but that's /your/ daughter at /your/ home," says Kadavy, shaking his
head. "Sir. I just wouldn't want to send mine off somewhere away from me,
not that I'd rather keep 'em at the Weyr. But then, it's not like I'm going
to live at a Weyr myself or anything, so." A shrug. "None of my business,
though, I don't guess."
"If I ever have children, they'll stay with me," Emmi admits. "But the way
things are, I'm glad the girls are here. I love them like my own daughters,
and I think Noemie is realistic in understanding that she can't be a mother
to them they way she would like to be."
"Yeah," says Kadavy, nodding once. "Mine, too, I figure." Another shrug,
though, and in curiosity he leans forward a little, forearms resting on his
knees while he peeks at what Rylie is drawing. "I guess that counts for
something," he adds absently to Emmi's latter words.
Rylie's scribbles are just that-- scribbles-- but to her, they certainly look
like something. Finally, after a moment in which the two Harpers are
watching her, she looks up and declares, "A dragon!" If one looks closely,
they'd see the vague resemblance, but just barely. "Lovely," Emmi coos. "It
looks a little like your Da's. Too big to be Naijath."
Rodric has been listening and watching, a rather indulgent look on his face
for Rylie's scribbles. "Indeed, having children amongst family, rather than
the anonymity of the Weyr's children's caverns might be a preference for
some," he muses, voice light. "I'm actually hoping that some of my
grandchildren may eventually choose a Harpering life."
"I'm sure that Ma feels the same way," Emmi says. "Though I didn't know that
you had grandchildren youreself, Master Rodric. Or are you speaking in a
rhetorical sense?" As she talks, she takes the slate and rubs it clean
before handing it back to her niece, who begins the drawing process again.
"My eldest daughter, Rodmilla, lives in Nerat," elaborates Rodric with a
slight smile, "and has six children, four granddaughters and two grandsons
for me. I don't get to see them nearly as often as I'd like." He tilts a
look Emmi's way. "Must be nice to be able to get to know your niece."
Emmi's eyes grow wide. "How did I not know that?" she asks, although the
'living in Nerat' part helps explain this. "It is nice," she continues,
watching Rylie's drawing, long lines without lifting the chalk from the
board. "Being with her makes me feel like I could be a mother, myself,
someday-- but not yet. Certainly /not/ yet."
"I wouldn't want any of my family here," Kadavy breaks his silence of watching
the budding artist, adding a distant sort of shoulder-lift to the words.
"Underfoot, hassling me all the time. My nephews are just trouble--don't
have any nieces, actually, yet. My family's definitely boy-heavy."
"It's not something I generally talk about much," says Rodric casually. "I
tend to keep my family life private." He smiles sunnily at Emmi. "Wait to
walk the tables at least, but yes, being a parent can be a very rewarding
experience. Difficult, but rewarding." His gaze shifts over to Kadavy.
"Think they'd terrorize the Hall, Kadavy?" quips the Master.
"That's certainly true. It's the first time I've heard you speak about them,"
Emmi comments to the Masterharper, "And I feel that I talk with you all the
time." To Kadavy, "Our family is certainly the opposite-- us three girls,
then Noemie's two. Don't know when there'll be a boy among us." She looks at
the two men as she speaks, then down once more towards her niece, who is
completely absorbed by her artwork.
Kadavy's mouth twists dryly. "Well, me, at least, I'm sure. Every time I've
ever been home they've got into my charcoal and my paint and everything."
Then, to Emmi, he observes, "Oh. Huh. Guess it's weird how it works out like
that sometimes. I've got four brothers myself--I'm in the middle."
Sympathy crinkles the Masterharper's face. "Ach, sounds like a mess. But then
young children do like to have fun with those sorts of materials." Rodric
leans back against the bench once more, head tilted slightly to catch the
last rays of the setting sun as it drops behind the walls and the courtyard
is cast into shadow. "I've got sixteen siblings myself. Don't know them all
very well for that matter. I'm towards the end of the passel as my mother
likes to say, but they offloaded me here when I was pretty young. They stop
by several times per turn though, the caravan, to trade, to visit."
"And they have boundless curiosity, as well," Emmi adds, understanding how
children could get into charcoal and paint. "I know this one certainly does
already, and she'll get even moreso. Avelie was like that, also. Still is,
for that matter." At Rodric, her eyes once again grow a little wide.
"/Sixteen?/ I don't know if I could stand it. Of course, I'm also the
eldest, and I don't think I would have done well with older siblings
taunting and bothering me." When she finally grows quiet, Rylie lifts up the
slate a little, holding it towards the Masterharper. "You!" she cries to
him, showing him her portrait-- which doesn't look much like a human at all.
"Yeah, but they don't know what they're /doing/ with them," complains Kadavy.
"They just... scribble. It's not art. They aren't even trying for it to be."
In disgust, he shakes his head, then shoots a quick glance sideways at
Rodric. "/Sixteen/?" he echoes Emmi, and just shakes his head, apparently
astounded enough to have no further comment on that.
Rodric tilts his head to the side, regarding Rylie's 'portrait' of him. "Yes,
I see!" he responds enthusiastically. "That's very nicely done." He looks up
and over at Kadavy. "It's not art /now/ but it could be some day. You can't
tell me you were born reproducing our finest illuminations now can you,
Kadavy?" He winks at the Journeyman, then settles back against the bench
once more. "Mm. My parents married young."
"Young?" Emmi picks up on the word. "I certainly hope that Noemie doesn't end
up with sixteen! Two, on occasion, I can handle." She smiles a little at
Rylie's pride in her work, and takes the slate to wipe it clean once more.
To Kadavy, she gestrues a little with the slate in hand. "Now, just because
she scribbles now, does that mean she'll never be a great artist?"
"Yep. It's not so bad though to have a large family when you're part of a
trading clan. Everyone helps out. It's tight-knit." Rodric falls silent
after that remark, grinning as he watches Emmi wipe his 'likeness' away.
"I understand not being perfect, needing to learn," says Kadavy with a shake
of his head. "But they're not interested in getting better. They only want
to dig their fingers into the paint and smear it on things willy-nilly. I
mean, even /she's/--" he points to Rylie "--is making some effort at
actually making a picture. It's a step above my nephews, anyway."
"Ahh so they're really only in it for the mess?" Rodric tilts a look at
Kadavy. "That's a shame."
"Maybe also for the fact that they want to emulate you, since they look up to
you," Emmi suggests. She hands the once again clean slate back to the
Masterharper, rising and helping Rylie to her feet as well. "I'm afraid it's
this little one's bedtime," she says. Rylie stumbles a bit as she rises,
holding tight to her aunt's hand. "Good evening, Masterharper, Journeyman,"
Emmi says, tugging the hand and the girl it belongs to back inside.
"Yeah, it is," agrees Kadavy, before shooting a glance at Emmi. He shrugs, a
noncommital sort of answer as he turns to stand himself. "Should be going,
too," he notes. "Sir." The latter in parting, accompanied by a nod, toward
Rodric as he heads indoors again, too.