A bout with the old friend curiosity [Fenilen]

by **Adairia** on January 25th, 2011, 8:54 am

24th of Winter, 510 AV

Adairia slid into her warm boots and took up her warm fur cloak, it was cold outside and she didn’t want to turn into a Vantha popsicle when she was about to go off on a search of a story. Her eyes shone like amethysts with her excitement. There was a visitor in town and they had been granted a year stay, that was all she could gleam from people. This was just to good of an opportunity to find out more about the world out of the city. Adairia loved travelers and loved to learn there stories, she had a passion for stories and storytelling. To let this opportunity go to waist would be against her very nature, and one didn’t go against there nature unless it was for a very good reason or it involved religion.

Stepping out of the warm Hold of Snowsong and into the blustering wind, Adairia had grew up here but she never seemed to grow to not mind the cold. She disliked it greatly but she had grown use to so why complain about it, it was life. She pulled the fur about her tighter glad forth probably the seventh thousand time (or more precisely every time she stepped outside in her life time) she had a thick wool dress and undergarments on. She quickly hurried to where she heard the rumor the visitor would be working, she hoped that it was the truth for she didn’t really want to go hunting them down.

She stepped into the glass shop, looking around with wonder she liked all the blown glass it was very beautiful, how the colors caught the light they were like jewels. She stopped to marvel at few pieces her and there. She was quiet fond of a beautiful peacock blue and green colored pitcher, she stared at it for the longest before dragging herself away she looked about the room for some one unusual here but saw no one she didn’t recognize so she slipped into the back. She knew this was off limits but that was where the stranger would be working if they were here.

by **Fenilen** on January 25th, 2011, 10:33 pm

Leather gloves were the only thing the pale-skinned man lurking within the studio wore-- aside from his pants, of course-- as he crept from one side of the studio to the other, trying to remember what it was he was doing. What was he looking for? His mind was in other places. His mind was thinking of the woman that was in the store with him, the woman whom he had coupled with in the back so many times, the woman who, soon, he would have to tell off. Nothing felt right since Sairque had come from Wind Reach. Fenilen brushed the hair out of his face, sighing deeply as he shook his head. Ladles! Pliers! That's what he was looking for! He was going to sculpt something out of hot glass! One last trek was made across the room, so that his hands could clamp around the cold metal of the pliers and the ladle. A wet tongue moistened his eager lips. Silently, he dipped the long ladle into the batch, scooping the semi-solid from its depths, smiling slightly as he set into the pattern that was so familiar to him. Silently, he made his way over to the marver, where he simply set the ladle down, dipping the nose of the pliers into the glass he had scooped from the fiery inferno of the blazing furnace. With great joy, he began a process as familiar to him as breathing.

A particularly large slug of glass found its way out of the ladle. After holding it over to let the excess dip off, he moved the pliers over the table, pressing the slug down onto the marble marver, rolling it around, smoothing out the edges, sticking his pink, moist tongue out of the corner of his mouth, a sign of intense focus, something that was needed when bringing these slugs down to size. Eventually, he finished with that section of his word, but he was not entirely complete. His right hand grasped for a circle on the edge of a metal shaft, with multiple perforations of various sizes along its surface. Anyone who had worked in the field of

glassworking would recognize the device as a marble mold. He dropped the particularly large slug onto the marver, trapping it under the largest hole on the mold. Silently, with intent focus, he began to roll the slug around, ignoring the bumps caused by its uneven features. Those were what he was purging through this exercise. By using the mold on his marbles, he ensured they were perfect spheres. Perfect. Perfect was all that could be allowed in this basic craft.

Finally, when he felt the marble finally offer no more resistance, he removed the mold from the marble, but not before rolling it to the edge of the table, catching it in a metal tray, complete with twenty round holes. This would take a while. For thirty minutes, the Inarta dedicated his time to this craft. He pulled more slugs from the ladle, returning it to the glory hole when needed, slipping them under the marble mold. This time, however, a different hole was used, as he did not need to make the large, centerpiece marble used in most games any longer. Now, he simply needed to make the marbles that were used for other functions. Still, each marble received loving care and attention, being rolled just to the specification required by the attentive fire-head, whose hair seemed just at home in the furnace as the flames did. Bated breaths passed between chaffed lips as each separate marble rolled from the perfect, smooth surface of the marver into the holes of the tray. Finally, finally, *finally*, after his many minutes of painstaking work, he had finished. A quick trip to the glory hole equalized the temperature of all of the marbles, and then they went into the annealing furnace, tray and all. He had finished. Silently, he placed his tools down on the table, turning around. A customer had just left the studio, with a vase in hand, and Faycia was depositing the money.

Silently, he stalked over to her, throwing a quiet glance at the door, wrapping his arms under her shoulders. He didn't care whether it felt right or not at this point. He was cold. So terribly cold. He pulled her body against his, whispering into her ear as he tucked her hair back, closing his eyes halfway. "I am cold, my Snow Leopard. The warmth of the furnace is nothing compared to the heat of your flawless skin..." with that, he brought his head back, watching as her colorful eyes shifted to scarlet, a color he had seen all too often in this blistering winter. He knew what was in store for him, but as her lips parted to form words, he silenced her. His lips pressed against hers, his eyes closing as his tongue met with hers. Unfortunately for him, he would find no more warmth than this from his intimately familiar partner today. A quiet jingle was heard as someone entered the store, and the two broke apart as a man entered. Fenilen scurried to the furnaces, still tasting her on his tongue, sighing slightly. He couldn't keep living like this. He couldn't keep living so illegitimately. A quiet sigh left his parted lips as his hand grabbed a pipe.

Five minutes later, and the pair was against the wall, Faycia whispering into the man's ear just like he had to her. Fenilen ignored her. He couldn't dwell on it. It was a common thing at this point, a season into his excursion amongst the Vantha. He grunted slightly as he shifted awkwardly, dipping the end of the fresh pipe into the crucible, covering it in glass. He decided to make a ball of glass, for no reason other than he could. He just needed something to occupy himself. Besides, who knew? Someone might find a large, perfect sphere of painted glass interesting to purchase.

A gloved hand once more found a huge ladle, rounding out his piece into a ball. He heard Faycia and the man vanish into the back. Anger began to boil over him, anger that he had allowed this whole thing to go on for so long. He needed to end it with her. He just needed to find the strength to do so. It was on this thought that he was focusing when another person entered. He didn't spare them a glance, too focused on his work. Only when he heard them creeping to the back room did he literally spring up, speaking to them harshly, swiveling his head to look at her as his hand kept the glass spinning against the ladle. "Don't go in there, girl," he warned simply, his eyes boring holes into her. "You don't want to see what Faycia's doing. Not at your age. What do you need? I am Fenilen Ruin, son of Maverick, brother of Emory and Nyali. I can't sell you anything, but I can tell you how much everything costs, and when Faycia comes out, I can have her sell you it."

When he felt comfortable enough that his warning had gotten through to her, he went back to his work, hunched over it, eyes boring holes in the fresh sphere of glass. Adairia could see his spine through the pale, sweat-covered skin of his back. He glowed with his own, independent light in the furnace-filled section of the shop. Quiet prayers to Priskil left his lips as he worked, praying for her to give him the Strength to see him through his nasty discussion with Faycia in the near future. Of course, Adairia wouldn't understand the chirps and other birdlike sounds that left his lips, constituting the whole of the Nari prayer.

by **Adairia** on January 25th, 2011, 11:27 pm

The young Vantha, spun about with a startle expression on her face her royal blue and amethyst orbs turned a brilliant emerald green. She met the eyes of the male before her, before the dropped down to the floor. A blush crept up to her golden cheeks as she felt the heat of the strangers eyes blazing holes into her flesh. His words made her feel little and insignificant like a child. Adairia was not use to this feeling and did not like in the least. She swallowed a few times trying to clear the lump in her throat as he spoke his name and who he was related to. Usually this would captivate her into asking more but her tongue felt fuzzy and thick her lips and throat dry and parched. How was she ever to find out more about the visitor if she stood there like a fool. She never was scared, she was use to performing in front of a stranger so why was it so hard for her to think up the questions she had wanted to ask the him.

Adairia wetted her soft puerile pink lips with a flick of her tongue and lifted her eyes from the floor but refused to look at the man. Instead she stared at the beautiful vase she had admired earlier, trying to draw strength and courage from the glass work. She opened and closed her mouth a few times before finally managing a squeak of question out. It was so quiet she was unsure if the Feniler had even heard what she had asked. “Are you the guest that has been given permission to stay a year here?” Adairia already knew the answer for she didn’t recognize the older man and she usually was good at remembering a face. She continued on with her question slowly gaining her lacking courage with the reinforcement of her old friend curiosity. Curiosity was no stranger to Adairia it got her into more trouble then not, and this time most likely wouldn’t be excluded.

“I am Adairia from the Snowsong hold and am searching for the visitor, I am dying to know why he has come here, why he was granted permission, why he wants it, and any tales of his adventure. So Sir if you are not busy can you please tell me everything about yourself. I am deathly interested in it all and well I want to put my curio sty to rest. I haven’t been able to find out anything about you or your unusual circumstance that has brought and allowed you to be here?” At the end of the rapid fired questions Adairia was begging to feel more like herself and was able to look in his direction to see him at work on a piece of glass. Adairia stepped closer to his work station and watched admiringly at his skill “oh how beautiful can you teach me?” the words escaped from her cursed tongue before she had time to really think about them.

by **Fenilen** on February 23rd, 2011, 11:10 pm

A small, deep chuckle managed to escape the lips of the glassworker as the young Vantha berated him with questions that his gut had somehow magically sensed were inbound. The young ones were always the ones that were the most curious, or at least, that was what he had discovered. The thought of foreign lands was as alluring to them as it was to a young Inarta that wanted to be an explorer, although for obvious reasons, these children had a bit more flexibility in what they wanted to be, what they wanted to do when they came of age. As he remembered the home from whence he had came, thoughts naturally came back to him of the attitude others had had of his heretical thoughts of journey to the outside. He remembered the odd glances he had garnered, the strange faces they had made, that furrowing of the brow that had become just as common as the rise and fall of a bare chest for those few weeks between the breaking of the news and his actual departure. So brainwashed. To think he was like them.

“That is me,” he said softly, not even looking up at her as the heat pounded his chest. A problem had reared its ugly head to him while he was busy speaking with her. Every muscle in his arm, from his biceps to his wrist, ached from exertion. He had been spinning the pipe much faster than he had had to in his frustration and worry, and now he was paying for it in the form of an aching arm. A slight look of worry managed to play its way across the features that had been so delicately and serenely calm not a moment before. If he did not find some way to sooth his aching arm without halting the constant movement of the glass, it would fall to the ground, just like it had all those years ago in the Wind Reach Hotshops. A quick eye glanced up at Adairia. She couldn’t be any older than Jeheld had been at the time. He wouldn’t allow himself to permanently scar another child.

“Stand back,” he warned, spinning with all his might, still trying to save the piece. His paddle pressed against the drooping glass, his hand forcing the glass back up into shape he wished it to be in, but his efforts were for naught. As his arm became sorer and sorer, less and less capable of the spinning so vital to the craft, the paddle had less and less effect, until gravity showed its superiority so a simple piece of metal and clay. Eventually, the glass threatened to droop onto the floor, which was when Fenilen finally gave up. Catching the movement before it began; he moved the paddle underneath the dropping beads of glass, taking both the paddle and the pipe to the batch oven, where he scraped the failure of a piece off into the batch. A small sigh left his lips as he watched the hard work mix in with the unworked glass.

Only once his failure was cleaned did he drop the pipe and the paddle back on one of the many tables, bringing his good right arm across to his left arm, massaging the muscles on his bicep with untrained fingers. Another sigh left his lips, this one louder and more resounding, as he realized that now he did not have the excuse of working on a piece to ignore this woman’s questions. The more he thought about it, the more she turned into a female version of Jeheld… Except he wouldn’t burn her, no matter how irritating she became. “I come because we want to learn how you survive the snow,” he said simply, still focusing more on his arm than her. “Where I come from, we live on a mountain. The mountain pulses with Priskil’s warmth and light year-round, but the land around it becomes covered in snow during the winter. Feet of snow. Any attempt to leave the Mountain’s Warmth often leads to death,” As he said this, he started walking again, looking into the barrel of water that was off to the side of the furnace curiously.

“Since we’re trapped in the mountain, we can’t grow food or hunt the mountains. We have to survive off of what we have stored. Often, this is not enough. Often, people die. It is a harsh life. We are sick of watching people starve. We need to find a way to provide for the People of Skyinarta. The Inarta have lived in fear of starvation since the beginning of time. We are sick of it. Like a youth learning to walk, we must grow past this stage. That is why I am here,” Fenilen said softly. “Of course, it also makes one less mouth to feed in Skyinarta.” Her next words really piqued his interest, though. They weren’t demanding information of his trip. No, they were asking him whether or not he could impart knowledge of his passion unto her mind. A quick glance at his arm set his mind racing. He couldn’t spin the pipe anymore today… A small smile played across his smile.

As he reached under the counter, pulling out labeled jars, he spoke to her quickly. “You want to learn?” he asked, cocking his head to look at her. “Then you will learn like a Yasi performing their Bendi, just like I did. Get ready. I will not be forgiving.” As he said this, he grabbed the jars in his hands, looking at the measurements that Faycia had pinned to the wall. The measurement for Selenium was something he knew by heart now, but the other colors were still unknown to him. Carefully, he lowered the measured cup into the jar, scooping up the specific amount he required. A few quick shakes and a little tilt of the cup removed the excess from its depths, and it was at that point that he wheeled around, flinging the contents into the Batch Oven, watching as they melted into the orange soda-lime glass. His legs dutifully carried him to the very same barrel that was used for the crackling of glass, which he used to wash the traces of Selenium for the cup. He couldn’t go around mixing the chemicals, after all. That would be disastrous.

His eyes carefully noted the required amount of Maganese for the Amethyst color he so craved. The cup found its way into that jar, and when it emerged, he flung it into the fire just like he had the Selenium. One more color, blue, or Cobalt, found its way into the cup after a thorough washing and inspection at his hands. Now satisfied, he waited a full minute for the minerals to mix, speaking to her only once as his green eyes stared into the elixir. “When I move the pipe to the bench,” he motioned to the two metal stands, “it will be your duty to spin it. Complete this, and I will teach you more in depth.” At that point, he lunged forward, dipping his pipe into the molten glass, which he quickly extended and expanded using gravity. With it at a decent size, he rushed over to the bench, dropping it into the bench’s holsters, motioning over towards the edge.

“Spin, Yasi,” he demanded forcefully, grabbing a ladle, awaiting her movement desperately.

by **Adairia** on February 24th, 2011, 8:55 am

Adairia waited patiently for Fenilen’s answer her heart racing with eagerness to hear what the glassworker had to say. Her eyes watched his movements with fascination and wonder. It was amazing to watch the glass being spun into a ball. Yet something seemed slightly off though she didn’t know what it was losing its round shape. Was it suppose to be doing that she puzzled as gravity took over she figured out what was wrong. The Glassworker seemed to be in pain, She thought about offering to help massage his arm and shoulders but thought it might seem to forward of her.

Enthusiasm light up her face as Fenilen said she could learn like he did, but she didn’t understand what he meant by Yasi performing their Bendi. She moved closer to watch him measuring out the chemicals taking careful notes. Her eyes shined brightly a deep amethyst purple. Her lips marked with glee, she was amazed at the skill and movements of the glassworker.

She was excited to see what color the burning orange glass would turn out to be so with child like glee she grasped the end of the pipe with in her dominant right hand and began to spin trying to mimic what she had seen before turning the pipe clockwise soon her left hand grasped the pipe to stable it has she spun. With her brows furrowed in concentration and her small white teeth nibbling on a youthful lips she worked. Adairia wanted to prove herself to this man. Her thoughts were consumed with what she was doing wanting to earn the right to be taught.

Glistening droplets began to dot her forehead from the heat and from the excursion but she was relentless and wouldn’t give up her arms weren’t use to being used like this. Though she was strong for her height and use to hard work this was different though and yet she continued to pursue to her goal.

by **Fenilen** on February 25th, 2011, 9:29 pm

“You learn as I learned,” he repeated again, holding the ladle in his hand as she began to spin the pipe. He waited until she had spun for a whole minute, displaying the strength required and the will inside to spin the pipe for the durations he needed to make any progress on the glass. “What I hold now is a ladle,” he said simply, holding it up so she could see it while she worked on the opposite end of the pipe. “Uses are twofold. Can be used to scoop glass from the batch oven for use in molds, or, it can be used to shape the glass into a rounder shape. I’ll be using it for the second. Keep spinning. If you stop spinning, this will all fall apart,” with his little bit of teaching completed, he bent his back so that he could work on the glass freely, pressing the ladle up against the uneven slug’s base, applying pressure to it. Slowly, the applied pressure and the inside of the ladle shaped the glass into a rounded base.

That was only the first step, though. As the glowing glass assailed his bare chest with heat, he continued his work with unwavering eyes, a dedicated gaze. He would finish this piece, no matter the cost. The muscles in his arm ached as they were forced to apply pressure to the spinning piece, but he ignored the pain to the best of his abilities. He could not allow himself to be distracted. He had to finish working. He had to finish this piece. For a novice, a Yasi, even, the woman’s pipe-spinning was surprisingly good. She did not slow down too much, although she did have a few problems with speeding up a bit, which Fenilen corrected with a simple little hand gesture or a kind word. Just because he was teaching her like Yidah had taught him did not mean he was going to turn into the monster that Yidah had been. His eyebrow ached despite the fact it had been over half a decade since his little altercation with his former instructor. How fortunate he was to finally be rid of her.

The thoughts of Yidah, however, meant that his mind was not thinking of the glass upon which he was working. It began to show in the quality. A slight droop began to form, one that his trained eye quickly spotted, and his talented hand swooped down to correct. He would not allow his work to fall apart before him like his last one had. The ladle’s bowl soon found itself pressed up against the drooping glass once more, correcting the flaw that could have caused the entire piece to fall apart. A small sigh left Fenilen’s lips. Saved. Little by little, he shaved away the unwanted glass from the slug, making it rounder, more perfect with each rotation. Finally, he furrowed his brow, speaking quickly to Adairia.

“Notice how the flow of the glass is slowing, Yasi?” he chirped, taking his ladle off so that she could see how it took longer to begin to flow out of position. “Needs to be reheated. That’s what the second oven on the wall it for. Called the drum oven, due to its shape,” as he spoke this, he rose to his feet, rolling and moving his arm in an attempt to further stretch and loosen the tired muscles. “It’s not a block like the Batch Oven,” he pointed to the first oven, “because it needs to heat all of the sides of the glass evenly,” with those words, he approached the drum oven, opening one of the many holes on its surface. “Come on,” he said softly, motioning for her to join him next to the furnace. “Put the pipe inside, and keep on spinning. Count to ninety with me. One and two and three and four…” he rattled off numbers like that, watching her spin as it sat inside of the drum oven. Even as he counted, aiding her in her attempt to aid him, he massaged his arm uselessly.

“Good. Back to the bench,” he announced when they reached ninety. When she pulled out the pipe and the piece, he closed the small door behind her, joining her at the two metal yokes that made up the bench. The moment it was down and being spun again, his ladle was on it, putting on the finishing touches. Not much more was required, though, so soon, he was finished, allowing him to back off and examine the perfect sphere, minute the stem that connected it to the pipe, he had made. That stem would have to be removed via the break box, as always. He didn’t even attempt to hide his small sigh. The break box, to him, was always the most stressful part. The ladle found its way back onto the marver, whilst a paddle found its way into his hand. “Paddle is used to make straight, flat edges. I like to use the far edge to even edges, too,” he announced, evening out some of the edges close to the stem. The moment he was done with that tool, he grabbed the diamond cutters, his least favorite tool.

“Used to mark lines upon which the glass will break,” he said simply, running it more than five times around the stem and its surrounding area. Once that was finished, he pointed a finger to the fourth and final furnace on the wall, skipping the third. “The annealer. Used to cool off pieces slowly, to prevent cracking. Go and put this piece in there,” With that said, he backed off, placing the cutters back on the marver, and his rear on the counter. A small smile formed on his parched lips. Despite his physical injury, he had still managed to make the piece he had wanted to create and his gut told him that this one would be even more beautiful than the one that had fallen apart before his eyes.

“Now,” he said softly. “I’ll teach you the basics, Yasi: molds.”

by **Adairia** on May 9th, 2011, 6:50 pm

Adairia had been obedient to the strangers commands, her brows were furrowed with consternation as she worked. Changing her speed when she began to slow down and need to speed up. The work was hard but rewarding as she watched the glass being shaped into a perfect sphere. The man was gentle in his commands and showed a great love for what he was doing. She was captivated by his movements as he shaped. A few times his commands had to be repeated because she was lost in watching him, a blush would creep into her cheeks.

The fire in the drum oven was hot and she could feel it course along the pipe warming it, she was un use to such warmth. It caused her to perspire even more as she counted steadily. She was happy when it was time to leave it. She was happy when it was all completed and set aside to cool down. She had help create something for the first time and it pleased her greatly. The next words he spoke excited her, he was going to continue her teaching, with gentle grace she spread her skirt and sat upon the floor in front him. Her eyes gleaming with childish eager delight.

by **Noblesse** on June 20th, 2013, 2:06 am

Fenilen :

Adairia :

True nobility lies in being superior to your former self

If you have any questions or concerns regarding your grade, please send me a PM and we can figure it out. Heehee.