Weaver Sayings

Participants:

Atsya.jpg Uveline.jpg

Date: July 09, 2010
Location: Living Cavern
Synopsis: Atsya and Uveline meet, and discuss weaving and weaver sayings.
Rating: G
Logger: Uveline

Another warm Southern Continent evening, the humidity permeating deep into the Weyr, though the bare rock at least cools the air a bit. Several of the tables of the living cavern are taken, some by riders loud and boisterous, others with soft conversations as older riders and weyrfolk reminisce about the Weyrs they left behind. Entering into the fray is a young woman, small and slight, carrying a small embroidery hoop. Stopping several feet into the room she pauses, looking for a place to sit.

Seated at one of the smaller circular tables are a handful of crafters, chatting softly as they eat their dinner. Several of them rise together, clearing their plates and leaving an opening at the table. The remaining two crafters, a lean young woman with the knot of a Harper journeywoman and an older man with the knot of a Smith journeyman, continue to talk softly over their meals. The newly vacated seats remain clear for the moment, as a lull in traffic occurs.

Atsya spots the seats, starting forward, then stopping again when she realizes they aren't being entirely abandoned. Still… She scrunches her face up for a brief moment before making a decision and relaxing, starting forward with short, measured steps. Reaching the table she waits for a pause before asking, "May I?" in a whispery-soft voice.

It takes only a few moments for the crafters to respond to Atsya's approach, the older man quieting first and nodding toward the rider. The young woman lifts her gaze from her companion and smiles briefly at the request, answering it with a strong, melodic voice. "By all means, dragonrider, do have a seat. This is your home, after all," she says, and the smith nods to support the other's statement. "You wouldn't be interrupting anything," he adds with a gentle smile, his face - lined by time at the forge - warming with the welcoming expression.

Atsya returns the smiles with a friendly one of her own. "Thank you, it's quite busy here tonight." She moves to take the farthest seat at the table from the pair to give them some modicum of privacy. The young woman sits gracefully, crossing her legs beneath her dress and smoothing it down over her legs before taking up her hoop, a bit of stichwork that show, not entirely surprisingly, the mid-stages of a design involving a blue dragon.

The smith nods at the rider's response, returning his attention to his meal once she is settled, and the harper follows suit. The crafters exhange a few more words, a soft discussion about letters from their families, before the smith departs, meal finished. Uveline then turns her focus toward Atsya, observing her work. "Is that your lifemate that you are stitching?" she asks as she cranes her head to try and put the unfinished work in perspective - making herself look rather silly, and not accomplishing much else.

Atsya tilts her head as she considers the question, her eyes still on the needle and thread as she works them through. "Not as such," she admits as she finally pauses. "His muzzle is less elongated, his body a little more lean." She turns it around, and currently there's a thin black outline where some dark blue detail has been put in, and some of a lighter blue for the main color of the body is now being worked in. "I don't know that I'm good enough yet to do him justice," she continues with a private smile as she looks off towards her weyr. "I was only an apprentice when I left."

As the needlework is displayed Uveline give a soft 'oh', nodding at the answer. "So this is practice, then, of a sort?" she inquires, glancing from the hoop to Atsya and back again. "I imagine it would take a lot of practice to get something that big into such a small shape with good detail. You were a weaver, before you Impressed?" she adds, pulling her gaze back to Atsya as she starts to scoot around the table for a closer look. The remains of her dinner - scanty though they are - are left forgotten at her seat as she moves.

Atsya nods her head. "Though I admit," she admits, "I was not destined to be a particularly good one. My parents are both wonderful, but they did not pass me their talents. I do it now for enjoyment, and to decorate a very new, very empty weyr." She gives another soft smile.

Uveline's smile this time is full of wry amusement at Atsya's words, and she nods slightly. "I imagine there are quite a few riders practicing skills they haven't had much chance to use lately, if only to make this place more livable. You can't be that unskilled a weaver, though, since that is very clearly a dragon you are working on. If I tried this, it would probably just be a big blue blob," Uveline points out as she looks more closely at the crafting. "I wouldn't have ever thought to use more than one shade of blue, either, to start creating depth. Of course, I am terrible at any form of visual art."

Atsya gives a low chuckle. "I have spent almost as much time unraveling as I have raveling. If I'm not pleased with how the stitches look I take them back out. My mother said it was a metaphor for life. That there are few things you cannot redo if you are willing to pull out the stitches. And," she adds with a sigh, "I pulled out many, many stitches. Still, when it is done it will brighten my quarters for when the real one is not there."

Uveline gives a soft 'hmm', nodding slowly. "There is a lot of sense in your mother's words. I might just borrow that phrase in teaching. 'There are few things you cannot redo if you are willing to pull out the stitches,'" she quotes, her voice giving it a melodic inflection. "I like that. Well, there's no harm in taking a bit of time at it when the work is for yourself, is there?" she asks rhetorically before blushing. "Oh, I'm sorry, here I am prattling at you, and you probably were looking for some… well, not quiet, but some peace, anyhow, to work in."

Atsya's slender shoulders rise and fall dismissively. "My embroidery is to fill empty time, if we are talking then my time isn't. If you'd like I could arrange for you to meet my mother, she was quite full of such sayings. 'A short stitch now or a long stitch later', 'too many weavers spoil the cloth'… I think she has one for everything," she says with the smallest hint of sadness.

"Well, if you sure I'm not a bother," Uveline says doubtfully, glancing from rider to cloth for a moment. "Let me know if I've become a nuisance, and I'll move off and leave you to your work." A pause, then, "She sounds more like a harper than a weaver, with all those witty words. I wouldn't mind meeting her, if it's no strain on you. She sounds like an interesting person to know." The last is said lightly, but the harper is watching Atsya's face thoughtfully, attentive after hearing that change in tone.

Atsya's vision comes back from the past as she turns to look at the other woman. "She is a good woman, I admit I miss her, though we did not always see eye to eye. But I think that is just part of growing up. But we must cut our own cloth, as she would say, and I am here where I belong." Her lips curl into a bit of a smirk as she looks around briefly. "Well, where we will belong after a lot more work."

Uveline's smile is quick and easy as she nods. "Everyone goes their own way eventually. I thought my mother would throw a fit when I was sent out here, but it's been a treat to be so, well, /free/," she agrees. "And it has been good to be part of building my home. I don't think many people get that opportunity in the North, and it has taught me a lot."

Atsya gives another soft laugh, more of a giggle as she shakes her head, her braid swinging behind her. "No, they do not. And weyr life is as free as one can get on this planet of ours. There is a vibrancy in the South that I do not think exists in the North, save for some exceptions I am sure. Newness breeds excitement."

Uveline nods again as she listens, her agreement clear. "It's certainly different, and I know I take a lot of pride in being part of establishing the Weyr. Several of the other crafters have remarked on that as well. I can see why so many of the Holders wanted to try moving South. There is so much /everything/ here." She sighs then, glancing at her plate and then at the stairway, where the last of the evening light is fading fast. "I should be going. It was a pleasure to meet you… oh! We never exchanged names. Where have my manners gone? I'm Uveline." Blushing again, the young woman begins gathering her dishes, downing the last of her fruit juice quickly.

"Atsya," the other replies, "rider of blue Zhiyth. And it was wonderful to meet you as well. I hope that you find everything you seek here. Though…" she says with a small pause, "I shall be curious to see your reaction to the other of your craft I have met here." There is a laughter in her eyes that bespeaks more humor than the slight raising of the corners of her mouth would indicate.

Uveline repeats, "A pleasure to meet you, Atsya, rider of Zhiyth." She pauses a moment, blinking. "I haven't spent much time around my fellow harpers, so I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing," she muses, surprised by Atsya's words. "Well, I'll just have to wait and see - things should be settling down shortly. Good evening, rider, and good luck with your weaving." And the crafter takes herself off, first tending to her plates and then heading for her current quarters.

Atsya nods her head silently, waiting until the other has turned away before the smile within spreads fully to her lips. It's not often one has a leg up on a harper. She watches Uveline depart before turning her attention back to her original project, once more taking up her embroidery hoop and needle.

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