In The Deep, Black Dark. (Sal)

[RhiaBlack]

{desc=N'tharon /Otto}The swing of his smith hammer rang out through the relative quiet of the lower caverns, and with it came the low singing of the Journeyman Smith and Blackrider at the helm of the anvil it connected with. Sparks showered the area, but N'tharon had long since desensitized himself to the feel of hot metal; the shards and sparks that hit his skin, at any rate.

His arms and shoulders, face and hands were the only parts of him that served the chance to suffer it. A sleeveless, high-necked vest protected everything on his torso from the throat down, a swath of leather serving as a guard against his pants, and then his thick-heeled boots. He wore gloves most of the time, but in all truth pain felt at the expense of his craft tended to soothe his thoughts in regards to anything that ailed him.

There was no simply forgetting this Hatching. The death of the Green Wher, surmounted by all the maulings and the traumatizing death of the girl. Orkia, they had whispered. Cut down before she had truly gotten a chance, and in the limp corpse on the Sands N'tharon had seen Synestria all over again. His intended Weyrmate, the woman he was going to espouse, when all of it was over.

The woman stolen from him before he'd gotten the chance. N'tharon would always hate Bronzes because of it. The anger and agony at the memories saw the hammer swing down with all his strength, and collide with the anvil in a shower of white and yellow sparks. He left it where it hit, turning to check the progress of the ore he had been melting down. Orders for new feed troughs and new tables, to make up for those who had been rusted through in the elements. Tables for a growing Weyr.

Acetone crooned at His, but remained on the lip of the anvil. He had settled there after N'tharon had turned, and Sintharith quietly pressed His' thoughts when they had turned so dark.

Nothing said, as the Black tended to remain quiet more often than not, but it was a silent reminder that he was there for his beloved Smithcrafter.

And so, with a weathered breath, N'tharon poured more molten steel into the molds, and left them to form. He would re-heat and shape them soon enough, once he was done with the framework. Those would be the sides and bottom, and he could handle that soon enough. There were other things to tend to, for now, and with sweat from the heat rolling across his skin, he re-bound his shoulder-length hair behind his head and off his neck.

Acetone tilted his head slightly, the little Black firelizard hearing something, though not sure what. He wanted to go investigate, but he imagined whatever was making the sounds would show itself soon enough.

[princesal]

As soon as he was released from the Infirmary with a pair of crutches and a stern look to try and take it easy, Otto was flying out of there. The time before the hatching had been so full of lessons, and helpful tips, and trying to get situated, and understand the rules, that he had had no time to explore. One of his favorite past-times was just searching for things, trying to find interesting things he hadn't noticed before.

This was an entire Weyr he had never seen! A morbid side of him wanted to know what kinds of bones he'd find. But that wasn't on his mind. Instead he wanted to go anywhere he was allowed to, and figured that he'd find out where he wasn't allowed to go... well... by going there. Having not Impressed at the Hatching gave him a sort of freedom that the new wherlings and weyrlings weren't able to have. Would he have loved to have Impressed? Of course! Things had gone a bit different though.

No use crying over spilled klah though.

In fact, first stop had been the dining hall, part of him hoping to see some of the new babies. He didn't really know what their new schedules were like, but he bet they were all having such a great time. Not seeing any newly bonded pairs, the trip wasn't in vain as a bleeding heart kitchen drudge must have seen his crutches, and cooed at him to stay there. His smile and patience was rewarded when they came back out with a small satchel of some extra food. He would never say no to food, and gave a full watt smile at them, before crutching off in Search of more pleasantries.

He went to the candidate quarters, and put his necklace back on, the holed stone resting against the jugular notch. He'd have to write Savati about what happened, maybe leave out the details about getting clawed up. It wasn't like it even hurt now, and he was mobile. He'd write to her later, maybe find out if there was some kind of messaging system set up here to send notes off if one didn't have a firelizard.

Grinning, he stood still for a moment while he dug out a meat roll, and popped it into his mouth. The moan he made as the delicious oil from a thick line of fat exploded on his tastebuds, was nearly indecent. He had to watch out and save these for as long as possible, he wanted to make them last.

But the time to move on was now, and he crutched his way out quickly. Only catching the end of the crutch on the door frame once, and falling over. Chuckling to himself, he went upon a great exploration. Or maybe not so great. He stuck his head into rooms, and greeted others with smiles, noshing on the meatrolls he had gotten every now and then, licking his fingers of crumbs and juice. Was all the food this good? Mmm, he hoped so. He'd be pleasantly fat in no time.

His journey's took him far and wide, from the ends of Pern to the beginning, and finally he ended up down, down, down. "The deep dark secret of the weyr is that they have a -"

He stopped, hearing a clang in the distance. The perfect noise of metal against metal ringing true. The memory of what had happened when he said he wanted to learn the SmithingCraft, he let drop away, and started towards the noise. It was beckoning, and who was he to ignore the call?

Otto wished he could have staked claim to appearing outside of the forgery looking normal, but the grin he had on his face, matched with the wide eyes, made him appear a bit manic. He was excited. "H-Hello? Hello! I'm- oh, hello!" He saw someone there, oh oh! and a firelizard! "Hi, I'm Otto. Oh, sorry, Otoatavatah, but everyone calls me Otto. What are you buil-" He went to wave to greet, and the crutch fell from under his arm. Reaching to grab it had him fall to the floor, the crutch knocking over a small container of well, he didn't see what it was, but it upturned and all the sharp little pieces inside of it scattered everywhere. He landed on the small satchel of meatrolls, and an unpleasant sensation told him that they were squished. Whoops.

[RhiaBlack]

N'tharon's back was to the door, but the calamity that resulted from Otto falling forwards and knocking an entire pan of rivets off the ledge certainly got his attention. Acetone scrambled to help the boy, hopping around the floor to pick up the rolling pin-formed pieces of metal, as Nel turned around with sharp, soulless black eyes narrowed at the doorway.

He half suspected Fyris, or her younger sibling, or some half-wit dimglow who had come down to investigate what he was up to. He didn't say anything, not at first, but he didn't move towards the boy either.

One of those hurt at the Hatching, NelMine.

Crutches. He had crutches. Rukbat forbid he poke fun at a cripple, no matter how temporary it might be. Long strides carried him forwards after he settled the heavy stone basin into place. Around his anvil, and Acetone moved out of the way to trill at His. Sintharith's presence in his thoughts was ominous, but amused. There to warn His in case N'tharon bit a little too hard, too fast. He was more than aware of how his bonded was feeling right now.

N'tharon offered his hand down towards the boy, to hoist him upwards to his feet.

"Legs they gave you aren't much better than the ones you have, I see. Come on. I'll get your other crutch, let's get you on your feet. N'tharon, of Black Sintharith. The flit is Acetone."

Nel helped him to his feet, reaching down to take hold of the sprawled other crutch and firmly anchoring it under his arm.

"What's got you coming all the way down here, I figure the healers would be up your backside about resting."

[princesal]

Laughing, Otto helped out with getting himself back to his feet as much as he could. "These old things weren't much good to begin with. If I had a mark for every time I've been tripped up by gigantic feet, I'd have enough marks for that to mean something." Grinning, he held onto the other crutch. "It's very nice to meet you N'tharon of Black Sintharith. Hello Acetone."

Reaching down to knock away anything dust that was on the floor away from his front, he found that the squished meat rolls had gotten a little bit through the satchel, and he could see a grease stain on his shirt. It was respect of the N'tharon that Otto didn't just suck on his shirt, trying to get the rest of the flavor out. He couldn't stop looking around the room, at the creations that were already made, of things that were lined up to be created. "I think the healers wanted me out of there as fast as I wanted to be. It's a lovely place, but I'm already mobile, which means I wasn't hurt as bad as some. What's a bit of muscle tissue lost between new friends, right? I was just off exploring, and then I heard the noise. Soooo... I mean, you know what you're doing. I just wanted to see. Sorry if I'm being an annoyance, I'm really good at it. I also do a great impression of a door. My impression of a window isn't as good."

Shifting, Otto balanced, and brushed his hair away from his face, fingers catching on the bandage on his face. "I think it looks worse then it really is. I'm not about to go into the lake and start swimming laps anytime soon though." Looking back at the furnace, he smile grew even more. "Can I ask what you're making? I really admire those who can work with a furnace, and Smith. I've always been really interested in it, but maybe the fact that I was able to fall over with barely taking a step, it isn't the wisest choice to put something red hot in my hands at the same time."

Otto was cheerful, upbeat, and bright eyed. "Is there anything I can help you with?" His smile was wide, and looked like he had somehow found a way to clean his teeth with glowstone. Even if was going to be turned away, that was no reason not to ask for a chance to help. He had two hands, two eyes, and well other limbs and whatnot, but those four things were working well, which meant he could sort things. Alright, so he had more then a slight interest in Smithing, but hadn't dared to go to the forges at Western, just in case that information got back to his mother. What he did at Dalibor would never get back to her. At least he hoped not.

"If you want you can have a squished meat roll." As if that was the answer to everything, he turned over the satchel, showing the damp spot, and reached in, pulling out a crumbling almost mush meat-roll. It stilled smelled good, and was still a little warm to the touch. "Any more squished, and I'd be offering you a meat roll drink!"

[RhiaBlack]

N'tharon's humor was rarely seen, and even more rarely voiced; but this kid was hilarious. His smirk crawled across his stubble-clad features, before it broke into a small flash of pale white amid the hardlined bronze of his jaw. A soft chuckle escaped him, and he shook his head.

"Yes, I suppose they would. Especially with so many who decided to visit on such short notice, no less. When you figure out the window thing, let me know. There are more than a few I should have you mentor, they make quite the habit of just that."

N'tharon bent down on one knee to pluck the rivets still scattered from the floor, and easily enough most were soon replaced. The container was set inwards a bit more, to keep a repeat from happening, as Acetone scampered about to put the rest he found into place. Nel, on the other hand, stood and moved back towards his forges to check his molten slag, a stool kicked over towards the crutch-laden boy in the process.

"You find me an injury of some sort that doesn't." He shifted his expression towards his anvil, then back to the rest of the completed pieces. "Feed troughs for the Herdbeast pens, probably to make sure none of the old ones have any residual crap in them to make the new beasts ill, and tables for the Dining Hall. There's more Weyrlings and Wherlings now, so they'll need a place and space to eat. Relatively mindless work, but enough to take my thoughts off other matters."

N'tharon shifted his weight, putting it behind the stone basin to pour another mold with the molten metal.

"And a several-ton creature with teeth and claws is better? Probably not, but I've known better Smiths who found their awkwardness outside the Forges. It's a matter of focus. You would be surprised what you can do when there is such a pressure and risk for injury. No different than being a Dragonrider or a Wherhandler. You just have to train your body to react a certain way." He held his hands and arms up, revealing the scars from hot metal and missed swings.

The offer for help wasn't unheard, but N'tharon answered it only with an expression and glance, at first. A pause, sweep of Otto's frame, and finally a voiced concern.

"You're helping plenty by being out of the way. I should expect that until your hands are free and not confined to crutches in order to move, you'll have to find something constructive that you can do sitting down. In which case..."

Acetone landed on the edge of the anvil with a chirp towards His, and N'tharon followed the Black firelizard's gaze towards the disarray of his bolts and rivets.

"Yes, yes of course. Let him handle that. How good are you at sorting things? And no, thank you. I ate recently enough, getting grease on my fingers and trying to use my hammer probably isn't such a great idea."

[princesal]

Grinning at N'tharon, he nodded. "The moment I perfect that art, I'll be on your doorstep, but at that point you might not be able to see me." Otto would have helped to pick up the rivets he had knocked over, "Sorry for knocking those over. If I bent down to get them, I'd probably have less grace than a one legged runnerbeast with a limp." At least he was always able to see the humor in thing, and when the stood was kicked over to him, he promptly shifted it so that it would be as out of the way as possible. He watched and listened aws N'tharon explained what he was making, giving the Rider Smith his full attention.

Otto really did want to learn, but he wasn't about to knock the door down and demand to be taught. Especially as he was now. What he could do was stay out of the way, be attentive, and if there was anything he could do, try and help out of possible. While he did like to explore, he knew that if it wasn't for the numbweed, his legs would be screaming in protest at the treatment he was giving them. Hopefully that wouldn't be evident in the bandages, or the Healers would have his scalp.

He was watching with awe and curiosity from his lovely stool as the mold was poured, his eyes lingered on it. When he saw the man's hands and arms, Otto wondered if he remembered where they all came from, or if over time, it all had ended up blending together. "Did you start learning the craft before or after you Impressed? Did you always want to work the forge?"

Looking at the firelizard, he wondered if he would want a somewhat squished meatroll. He saw people feeding their firelizards all sorts of things in the Dining Hall, pieces of meat, pastries, tubers. Some of them didn't even wait, and pestered the cooks until they were fed scraps. The fact that this firelizard didn't swarm him the second Otto has squished the rolls told him that he shouldn't just go about offering treats without asking first.

About to ask, he forgot entirely when the glimpse of something to do was offered. "I'm great at sorting! I've got all my fingers, and a knack for small details. If I can sort through little bones, I can sort through bolts and rivets." He sounded excited, and was up on his feet, and moving his stool again, making sure to still stay out of the way, but also someplace where he could sort easily and not be afraid of knocking over things, or dropping them. "Ah, point. Knowing my luck that hammer would fly out and my out of the way spot will turn into another missing tooth." Laughing, he reached up for the mixed up pieces, and started to sort without another thought.

"Would your firelizard like some squished meatrolls instead?" Pausing, he wiped his fingertips off on his shirt, and then put the pack on the ground, and went back to sorting. "Were you at the hatching?" Since he was still really new to Dalibor, he didn't have any idea of people's habits, or if it was common for everyone to stop what they were doing and attend hatchings. Having been at Western for as long as he could remember, he wasn't privy to Weyr life. Pausing again, he shifted so that he could watch what N'tharon did while he sorted. "How do you not have a crowd of people watching you?" This was a fascinating thing to him, the ability to create something out of use, the knowledge of it, the skill to do it safely... to Otto, it was as good as the hatching, and hopefully less bloody.

[RhiaBlack]

Man did this kid have a lot of questions. N'tharon couldn't help but smirk. It wasn't so much a bother, of course - it wasn't as if Otto were standing underfoot and causing a ruckus, outside of the initial less than graceful landing into the doorway. N'tharon simply looked at Acetone, and the Black firelizard glided down from the anvil's edge to toddle over towards Otto. He sat back on his haunches, and cheeped up softly at the crutch-bound boy.

"He doesn't bite. Small pieces, he's too small for anything large."

Acetone waited patiently, scurrying briefly under Otto's stool to retrieve another stray rivet, and offering it up towards him in trade. N'tharon fielded the questions kindly enough; Otto was willing to sit down here and talk, and it kept the Blackrider's attention off his thoughts. The last thing he wanted to admit was that not only was he exceedingly lonely, but that he -liked- having people around him, sometimes. Not all the time, but it wasn't as if people were beating down the door to come watch him work. He took an extensive amount of pride in what he did for the Weyr, though it never would have shown in anything but his craftsmanship.

The grin broadened at the quip. Able to see him. Funny guy.

"My father was - is - a Dragonrider. An Ironrider, and I suppose, and the only craftwork relative is the name of his Dragon's color. I was an Apprentice Smith when I stood at Ista, Impressed Sintharith, and he pushed me to continue my studies once we'd graduated. Circumstances lead me to be a bit of a recluse, so it only made sense that if I wasn't going to put myself as some sort of social butterfly, I stayed with what I knew. Walked the tables a few months after my eighteenth turnday, and with any luck I'll walk them again for my Master knots some day soon. Though Threadfall keeps me busier now."

Acetone carefully flew up to settle on Otto's shoulder, taking the offered meatroll piece and clasping it between his paws to eat in silence. His sleek little tail curled against the nape of Otto's neck to hold himself securely in place, as N'tharon shook the mold to remove air from the molten metal. It was pushed to one side with the other, and he removed another section of framework to heat and shape it. The sparks flew, the sound of his smithing hammer echoing through the forging cavern with a resonant clank of metal-on-metal. He left the other two questions to linger for a bit, as the one frame was repeatedly struck, tested against the underside of an old trough to check for a true fit, and hammered again to shape when it was found wanting.

When at last he had set it to his liking, he turned with the not glowing, but still searing hot piece of steel in-hand. Laid against the anvil, holes were punched for the bolts to fit, before it was thrust into a basin of water to cool.

"Unfortunately. I was hoping not to have to witness so many maulings and that death, but alas we don't always get what we want. Brought back more memories than I'd like to recall, seeing what I did. What everyone did. I don't watch them often, though they encourage us to do so. Getting to know the new generation of Riders, they say, but I'll meet them sooner or later when they've graduated."

A frown etched his features. Too much. He'd said far too much, and with a shift in his stance, he turned to grab another length of framework that had been thus far untouched. It was slid into a section of the forges, so that it would heat but not be melted down.

"Sometimes I get visitors. Less down here, more at my workspace further up the corridor, where I do my jewelrycrafting. People don't like overly warm spaces, imagine that. Most of them Candidates, I rarely get the odd Rider or Weyrfolk if they need something fixed." He paused, blackened hands sweeping through his hair to pull stray strands back into the binding behind his head. "In all honesty, most people don't care about the process. They're interested in the end result, and most of them are smart enough to know that it's dangerous down here. They don't want to run the risk, or they don't have the time. Candidates don't care, most of the ones I get are just bored. I get a Greenweyrling and her little sister most of the time, the younger one is oddly sweet on me, so her sister says. A bit too young for my taste, and I don't understand why anyone would like a crotchety old bastard like me."

There was a wry smirk, before he flipped the heating section of metal framework within the forge and pulled it out to check it, before it was shoved back where he'd drawn it from.

"If you want to learn, once those legs of yours get better and if you have the time, pending you don't Impress before then, I'll teach you some of the basics. Probably not enough time for anything fancy, but well enough to know some of the easier stuff. What little of this profession is easy. Some forgework, some jewelrywork, if you'd like. The latter is easier to grasp, and will probably net you more Marks if you're not making things for free."

[princesal]

When told that he was allowed to feed Acetone, awe was reflected in his dark eyes. He had always wanted to feed a firelizard, well... actually, he had wanted to get his younger sister a firelizard. He wasn't allowed to have a pet, but he knew that she would have been able to. A sweet little pink firelizard would have fitted her well, he had just never been able to time it right. Otto was nearly beside himself when Acetone traded him for a fallen rivet. "You are so smart, and a very handsome firelizard too." He took out another piece of squished meat roll, and this time broke it into pieces, setting them out so that Acetone could grab them when he chose. It was a dream come true right now for him. A firelizard on his shoulder, sitting and enjoying the company of a dragon rider, watching a skilled Smith work a forge.

Otto actually reached down to pinch his arm and make sure that he was awake. With the small bite of pain, he felt a wash of giddiness, and did his best to not let it get out of control. It was all real! Yay!

He made his movements very smooth whenever he moved, not wanting to upset the firelizard, but he wanted to watch N'tharon work at the same time. So possibly he was taking his time to sort through the metal pieces. He had frozen entirely when he watched it put into the cool water. The noises of the forge were loud, but there was a sense of rhythm to it all too, a comfort. Nothing made noise without a reason, and he liked that. It was all clear and practical, and useful.

The surprise at the words about the hatching didn't show up on his face. He did listen to it all though, nodding. Not wanting to pry and cause a problem, because he felt like there was something more there, of course he could have just been reading too far into it. He just talked about his personal experience "Well, the next one will be better. I can't wait. I feel like I got really lucky during the hatching. I don't think the whers liked me very much, but they didn't hate me. I mean, that blue one could have just plucked out my eye. But he didn't, so that's pretty good. It had also been a really nice night too."

He ate a squished meat roll himself, and went back to sorting. It wasn't a difficult task, he entertained the thought that once his legs were healed, he'd be able to come down more often, if only to clean up all the little bits of metal scraps. How much would there be? Could he make a skeleton figure out of it? That'd be fun, mixing the metal with bone to erect a creature out of his fantasies. Maybe it'd be something to ask later.

Grinning, as he sorted, he looked over at N'tharon as he said he couldn't understand someone liking him, and tilted his head. "Well, you let me stay, instead of just brushing me off. You're capable in your abilities, and seemingly confident in them. You're a dragon rider too. Oh, and you're big, strong, and attractive. I can understand why someone would like you." Otto spoke like this was all common knowledge, the smile on his face never dimming as he turned back to his sorting. Otto really did see the world through a nice rosy shade.

If N'tharon thought he had seen a grin before, the one that Otto gave him at the offer would be one for a record book. It looked like he had broken apart a glow stone, and formed the rock into teeth and now had a mouth of them. His smile was broad, huge, and anymore and he was going to split his face in half. "I'm only 15 Turns, I'm pretty sure I have a long wait ahead of me before I Impress. I'd really like to learn, I'd be happy just cleaning up if you want. I'm sure little pieces of metal fly in lots of different places. Admittedly I'm not very smart, but where I lack in brains, I make up for in will. I think... if that's comparable. I would like!" He couldn't stop smiling, he didn't care if his face froze that way either.

"C'mon legs, get better faster." Suddenly chuckling, "You haven't been talking to the Healers by any chance? I'm pretty sure all the moving I'm doing isn't helping the healing process any bit... they'd be looking for any way to keep me still long enough to heal. Are you in cahoots with them?" He was laughing now, his mind moving quickly through thoughts, and the hopefully soon future. "I'll try my best not to Impress for as long as possible, N'tharon. Would it be possible to create a skeleton out of metal and bone? Would that be more jewelry work? What do you make for jewelry? Like necklaces? I'd really like to learn how to do that too, my little sister made me this." He pulled on the leather strip, revealing the stone on it. "I don't know how she got a hole through it, but I'd love to make her a necklace too. She's going to start training to be a Healer, so maybe something that has to do with that? Or that won't get in the way... Wow! This is great news! I've never been happier to be as clumsy as a drunk wherry."

Looking back at his task, or what was his task, he had babbled enough that he had finished sorting the rivets quickly, and saw that. "Either I've suddenly gained the ability to be the fastest sorter alive, or time has been flying." He broke off another small piece of a meat roll, this time splitting it between the two of them, as he ate the part he had broken it off from, holding the rest out to Acetone.

[RhiaBlack]

N'tharon was busy swinging away at his anvil on another section of framework, removed from the forge shortly after he'd cooled the piece prior, but Acetone was more than happy to amuse Otto. After all, he had FOOD. Food was more than enough incentive for the little Black to find company, and at the praise he preened himself pridefully. N'tharon paused, raising a brow half in amusement, half in an eyeroll at his only pet. Acetone was too busy nomming offered meatrolls to pay even marginal attention to His. This one was way more interesting, Mine, I watch you all the time! It's someone else's turn!

"With any hope, yes," N'tharon confirmed, sparks flying off the length of hammered metal, "From what I saw, having two clutches of different dragon species on the same stretch of Sand was a rather unfortunate circumstance."

Politics that N'tharon knew couldn't be helped, but didn't truthfully sway him from feeling that something else was to be held accountable for the actions of so many being mauled and the one girl's unfortunate death. Right away, N'tharon's memories weighed on him, and the hammer was brought down in a slam to the framework that set his teeth to grate. It wasn't visible beyond a tightening in his jaw, and the faintest narrow of his darkened eyes. It wasn't Avalle's fault. Dragons rose and Whers ran when the need came for them to, and sometimes it coincided. But something else could have been done. Something should have been, to ensure the safety of those...who was he kidding. They were Dragons and Whers. Safety was a concept that didn't exist when dealing with children, on both sides. He swallowed, and tried to push Synestria's face from his thoughts.

"With any luck it won't happen again - the dual-clutch, that is, of different sorts - and the next time I see you, you'll have one of your own. Preferably without the crutches, I'd think, and preferably without missing any body parts."

The response wasn't one he had truthfully expected. The strikes to the cooling metal slowed, then paused - Otto had collectively took him very much by surprise. He wasn't used to getting compliments, least of all from those who took the time to come down and speak with him. Granted, Otto was the first outside Fyska and Fyris to linger more than long enough to request a repair to something, or otherwise give him work to do.

"I consider myself no more attractive or personable than anyone else in this Weyr - if not less so. Regardless, I appreciate the compliment. I don't come by them often. Especially not outside of those in the middle of Flightlust. Then again, that's not precisely a time for talking, I suppose." He flipped the length of metal, sliding it back into the forge to re-heat it; for a time, the lack of metal-on-metal strikes made it substancially less loud within the cavern. The comment about not Impressing as long as possible solicited another laugh.

"I don't think you have much choice as far as that goes, there. Dragons want you, they claim you, and there's little if anything you can do about it. Besides, worst comes to worst? If you're genuinely interested so much in learning my craft, I can see if they'll assign you chores down here instead. Try as I might, there's much more work for me than I seem to be able to handle, what with Threadfall. Haven't had the energy after Threadfighting to do much side-crafting as far as my jewelry goes, so having an extra set of hands might actually help out more than you think." He flashed the briefest of smiles. "Of course I am. It's all part of the plan."

A wink, before he shook his head. "Actually not, but it seems that they might be more willing if I have you down here doing the mindless work I don't have time to do, but that is important to still get done. Sorting parts, sweeping up, sorting ores, all that. As for craftswork, you can create practically anything out of metal and anything of reason. It wouldn't be hard."

The heated metal was flipped again, and he watched it carefully while Otto assailed him with questions. By Faranth this kid was curious. It had been a long, long while since he'd been this pressed for information.

"I make pretty well everything. Necklaces, rings, bracelets, earrings. Your bone and metal piece would probably be jewelry, depending on how large you wish to make it. A full scale skeleton will probably raise some questions, so I doubt I could do anything of that size. A pendant or small figurine is probably much more reasonable."

Matilda would like something like that, the idea occured to him. The girl was infatuated with death, so some semblance of that...hmmm. Perhaps he'd come up with something for her, too. Not a mimic of what Otto desired, of course - all his pieces were unique, and obviously Otto's would be even furthermore, with the boy working on it alongside him. An idea filed away in the back of his thoughts, all the same. Something to work on when he wasn't already dealing with a full plate of things to do.

"Time flies when your hands are busy and your mind is not. I'll tell you what. I'll give you a bit of hide and something to write with. You figure out what you want as far as a pendant suitable for your sister, since you know her better than I do, and we'll work on something for her. You've sorted those for me without being assigned to it, so I'll cover the cost for it. Color, shape, what sort of materials as far as what metals and stones. Ask the healers and Candidatemaster for permission, and you can come down here with me and we'll sort it out."

Acetone took hold of the meatroll piece, before picking it apart into pieces to eat. His had warned him, and Acetone's hunger had gotten the better of him once before, when he was much smaller. He'd nearly choked on an overly large piece of wherry, and it had taught the Black to be careful with what he put in his mouth. He cheeped in gratitude up at Otto, and lingered beside the boy even when the meat was gone. He liked this place. It was out of the way of His' working, and still around someone. People needed to visit more often!

[princesal]

Otto couldn't stop the soft chuckle as it crawled up his throat, with dragons and whers having the potential to kill right out of the shell, and with his general clumsiness, he couldn't help but assume that this would be the last time he was on crutches. He didn't mention it though, if N'tharon knew just how accident prone he was, he might be told to stay away from the forges just so he didn't burn (or melt) his own flesh off. "I'll try not to return with crutches, don't know if I'll be able to make any promises, they are flattering, match my eyes..."

His amused expression turned into an outright laugh at the dragon riders response to Otto's compliments. "I wouldn't know. That's something for the future, flight lust I mean. I'll try to remember to compliment you every time I see you from now on." He reached out, fingertips curled slight towards his palm, and with a gentle touch, pet Acetone's head, and down his neck. If the firelizard didn't like it, Otto would pull his hand away, hopefully before any nips came raining down upon his knuckles. "How much time do you spend down here? If you have time you can come up to my room and I can show you my collection. I had to leave some of it behind when I came to Dalibor Weyr, but I still have some really nice pieces." Okay, so he was very proud of his collection of bones, no matter how weird someone might think it was.

With every strike of metal, Otto found that he kept staring, and it was easy to become almost entranced with the rhythmic and repetitive noise. He had a lot of questions he wanted to ask, but he didn't want to keep distracting and end up causing N'tharon to make a mistake. It wasn't just a possibility, he was pretty sure that it would happen, and as much as he disliked thinking about it, Otto knew what happened when he made mistakes, or when he made others make them. Nothing good. Either way, as pleasant as he found the noises, they did cause him to keep blinking. After a few bang of the hammer, it became a mental game. Could he keep his eyes open with each clang? He wasn't winning so far.

About to stand up, or really use his crutches to pull himself to standing, the offer, of possibly having chores assigned here, had his legs feeling a bit like uncooked rolls, and his heart had leapt into his throat and was hammering away. Was he allowed to do that? He was so interested in learning the craft, he wanted to learn so much, he wanted to try. Even if he messed it up, he wanted to try! He was smiling so broadly, the the corners of his lips were starting to ache. "Yes! Yes please! Yes! I would... that... that would be... yes please! I'll do whatever chore you tell me too. I'll make sure everything is clean! Oh wow! Yes please! I thought the best thing to happen to me after getting here would be to see a hatching so soon, but this... I'll try my hardest to do everything, have to warn you though, it might be possible that I'm too stupid to learn anything, but I'll still try!" That little dig at himself, it was said without a pause, and by his jovial tone, it sounded like a joke anyway.

"Sweeping? Oh! I'm a Master Sweeper. I can handle a broom better than I can handle where my own feet go." Looking down at his completed task, "Not half bad at sorting either. Did you start your craft the same way? It makes sense. How long was it before you started working with the forges themselves? Do you like working with these big metal pieces or with the smaller jewelry work more? Which one did you start first? Do you really think the candidate masters will let me come down here for my chores? I can do my other chores too, if they need me to. If they won't let me, will I be allowed to come down when I'm done with my other chores? Are there certain times that I shouldn't? I guess I shouldn't come down in the middle of the night or anything. Do you still get to forge in the summer, even though thread is falling? Or do you do this even more often when thread is falling because things get damaged? How long have you-" His own excitement had over taken himself, and he realized that when he ended up coughing and gasping for a breath of air. He really would talk and ask questions until he was blue in the face.

A relatively more sheepish smile on his lips now, he shook his head at mention of N'tharon paying for it. "It's alright. I'm pretty sure that sorting something like this isn't equal to a necklace you make. I'd rather do some more chores for you first, or... well, I don't have many marks, but I could trade you something from my collection. I have a perfect avian head, it's about the size of... uh... well it's not very big, but it's got the beak and everything. I don't know if that would be equal either, but it's better than just sorting something I knocked over." If it wasn't for the fact that he still had to use crutches, he would probably be bouncing on his feet with excitement.

Already his mind was zooming along, trying to imagine what he wanted to create for his sister. Maybe when it was done he could ask the candidatemasters if he could visit her and his mother, and give it to her in person. Already he missed her terribly, and if he could see her expression when he gave her a present, it would be enough to keep him in high spirits for turns to come. Shaking himself from his thoughts, "Thank you so much. Thank you for tolerating me. I won't talk as much once I'm busy with chores... alright, so I might talk a little... okay, maybe a lot..." A grin, "How about I just promise not to sing badly instead."

No doubt if anyone had noticed he was missing from where he was suppose to be sitting and taking it easy to allow himself to heal, he had been gone for a long time, and the squashed meat rolls were gone. Grabbing his crutches, this time he really did pick himself up, securing them under his arms. "If I stay any longer, they might think about sending a search party for me. It was... Incredible to meet you. Thank you so much for just... for giving me a chance. It was very nice to meet you too." He said this to Acetone. "Maybe one day I'll have a firelizard and you two can play together, if you want."

It was then that Otto realized that the little satchel that had held the squashed food was on the ground. Trying to grab it with his foot, he realized that wasn't going to work, and taking the right crutch out from under his arm and into his left hand, he tried to bend down to grab the bag. He wasn't even close when his balance gave up on trying to keep him on his feet, and he topped over, landing not only on the bag, but also on his face, or really his forehead by the solid thunk. The left crutch came down on top of him, standing for a millisecond longer than he did. "I'm alright!" And he was laughing softly as he gathered himself back up, this time with the bag in his grasp. By the time he was back on his feet, he had an egg shaped bump forming on his forehead, but didn't look bad beyond that. "At least this time I didn't knock anything over. I'm going to go find the candidatemaster and ask. Hopefully I'll be seeing you soon." If there was nothing else to be said, he'd crutch out with a bounce.

[RhiaBlack]

Nel's eyes danced at the humor the boy showed. It was one thing to be put into a miserable predicament, another to be able to poke fun at one's self for the sake of not letting one's demeanor and mind fall into the same dire straights. Otto had a good outlook about him, and N'tharon could appreciate that. A quiet chuckle escaped him, and he shook his head.

"Out of all those I've ever met down here, I have to say that you're one of the most positive sort. I'd ask if you ever find yourself in a dour mood, but I think I already know the answer to that."

He contemplated slightly, before there was a small break in his responses to continue swinging away at the reheated metal. Formed around the beveled edge of the anvil, Nel's hold on the red-hot length was unquestioningly powerful. He controlled everything about this place. The fire, the coals, the metal, the power that everything held. It was like conducting an orchestra, sometimes. Suited by what he had forged, he ran the length of metal between two flat, connected stones - they rolled in tandem to smooth out the length, to which N'tharon could curve it if he needed to. In this case, straight was the name of the game, and he looked down the length to ensure it was true. The flattening and smoothing out of the hammerstrikes didn't create much noise, which allowed him to reply without having to shout over the sound of his blows and bellows.

"I spend most of my free time here. I'm not much of a social person, so when I'm not flying Thread or doing patrols and such, or spending time with Sintharith, or eating, I'm down here. Usually I just grab something from the kitchen and put it on top of the forges to keep warm. A little bit of soot never hurt anyone, I suppose." Acetone crooned, leaning into and raising his shoulders under Otto's attentions. He did so love being scratched. Mmmmm.

Nel chuckled at the flood of excitement, and paused in the rolling of the metal length through the stones.

"Easy, now. No need to get yourself riled up." He pulled the length of support from between the massive, flattened, circular rocks, and inspected it again, before it was laid in a longer cooling pan of water. Steam temporarily enshrouded him, before he left it where it lay and went back to check on some empty molds. They were coated with a layer of grease, Nel's hands blackening at the touch of it before he slathered it up the sides of the mold, into all the crevices. While his back was to Otto, he was still able to be heard. Acetone curled up on Otto's leg, and if a Flit had been able to purr, he most certainly would have.

"Nobody is too stupid to try." Nel didn't believe that, he'd met his share of sharding dimglows, few of them he'd trust around his beloved forges at that, but Otto didn't strike him as one of them. Curious, excitable, sure. Stupid? No. "It was how I started, yes. The Master I apprenticed under at Ista had me sorting bolts and rivets, sweeping up, cleaning the forges, that sort of thing. They don't tend to go constantly, there are a few candlemarks and sometimes days during the sevenday where it doesn't run, given there are very few other Smiths here that I've seen. A couple of those who use the anvils and what not, but I think I'm the only active Smith here. The only one working on higher knots, I suspect. Though, I could be wrong, next thing I know there'll be a half dozen of them down here and the forges will run twenty-four candlemarks a day." He sighed slightly. More people. Just what he -didn't- want. The forges were his sanctuary, of sorts, and there were more than a few days that Nel felt quite territorial of them. At the prospect of trading, N'tharon seemed to ponder.

"Do you have any pieces? Small pieces, something like I could craft a ring or a necklace from? Your gift for your sister, it gave me an idea. There's another Wherling here who has a...very strange infatuation or somesuch, I suppose that's probably the wrong word for it, now that I think about it. She and I had a very intriguing conversation some days ago about death, and for some strange reason I have a desire to gift her something with some sort of bone in it. Perhaps antler or something, I still don't quite have a design in mind. Something to work on when I'm not working on other things, but it seems suiting. Different, of course, from that which we make your sister, because none of my pieces are the same and I don't craft the same design twice."

By Faranth he was a well of questions. Nel didn't seem to mind all that much - the more Otto distracted him, so to speak, with inquiries, the less the Blackrider Smithcrafter found his thoughts lingering on the death of his intended weyrmate. On what had happened back at Ista, in general. It was moderately reassuring, and almost welcome.

"I started working the forges a few sevendays after I'd learned to clean them, learned how to stock them and keep heat in the coals and flames, basically learned what it was for and what to do with metal heated or melted inside it. I started with the larger metal pieces, and I can't say I like one more than the other - the larger forgework helps the Weyr, so it's far more important. The jewelcrafting helps me with my Marks, so through that I can afford nicer things. It helps my lifestyle, so both of them have their perks and their place. As far as chores, I suspect they would, perhaps you'd have to do some organizing in the storage rooms here, perhaps clearing out some tunnelsnakes and such as that for them, but I imagine if it's craftwork and you officially state you want to Apprentice with me, then most of them I've noticed tend to organize and assign chores based around that. There's of course going to be days you will be needed elsewhere, which can't be helped, but I imagine they'll let you down here with me when they're able. Given the number of Candidates we still have Standing, there's quite a few extra pairs of hands."

He paused to hook the towel hanging off the wall across his wrist, and wipe at his face.

"Normally if I'm down here, you're welcome to come. There isn't much that's more dangerous than everything else that you have to be particularly wary of - all of it is dangerous, of course, but nothing more than any other. There's a Cyanrider who has claimed she's going to come down and see me soon, though I have no uncouth intentions with her, so having you around might make me behave." He cracked a small grin, before flicking his arm to hook the towel back across the edge of the stone lip. "All Riders are out at their respective and required times when Threadfall is going. If I'm not fighting Thread during those times, I'm sleeping, but we tend to know ahead of time when it's coming, so there are a few days where I'm down here catching up on work when there's a lull. For the most part, though, if there's Thread forecasted, then I'll be up in the skies with Sintharith."

As Otto made his preparations to leave, Nel retrieved a bit of writing charcoal and a piece of hide used for blueprints along a ledge and alcove in the wall; once he'd washed and wiped his hands clean, of course. Putting the writing tool into a small leather bag, he rolled it into the hide, tied off the one end so that it wouldn't fall through, and took it over to the crutch-bound boy. Acetone chirped, and Nel handed it to his black Flit. Acetone fluttered up to Otto's shoulder.

"He'll go with you back, sort out what design you'd like. I'll send him up to you with some colored chalks, give me some colors and ideas and such as far as what you want. It'll be something to work on. I'll send him back to you in a couple days to get it, and once you've mended enough, I'll meet up with you in my workspace to start on what we're using and such. Take care of yourself, Otto."

With that, he stood long enough to make sure the Candidate got out of the doorway all right, before turning back to his work.