Is it hot in here? (Cyrill)

[Amon]

2nd of Fall 510AV There wasn’t much to do that day. It had been a leisurely day with nothing to do but squabble with his companion eagle, practice archery or… sleep. And none of the former choices held Amon’s interest for very long. It was only when he had been sorting through his array of clothes and polishing his beloved bow did it come to him that he had not visited his sister in quite a while. And where was the harm in that? Of course, he and his sister weren’t the most compatible pair around when it came to siblings, but he still cared for her as an older brother should. Her lessons, her great talent in the art of glasswork! He was proud, if not secretly admiring her for her ability to create art in wondrous ways. Then again, the same could be said for her of him. Amon quickly garbed himself in a crimson bryda and leather boots. Not once did he check himself in the mirror, but it wasn’t as if the rider meant to impress his sister. He had no desire to give her another reason to hold a grudge against him, thus he exited his aerie, and quickly made his way through the halls and winding corridors, past various dek, commoner and artisan, to the Glass Reverie. It was as wide as it was completely congested. There were many workers here it seemed, and the heat of the bodies made Amon glad he wore no shirt that day. Quietly he made his way past various hunched red heads working diligently on their work, until he saw a familiar pin straight crimson mass of locks held up by a tight band. Liara was working on what he figured was a necklace, crafted from glasswork she most likely made herself. Amon smiled and tapped her lightly on the shoulder, she whirled around with a start. “By the eagles, Amon, you scared me!” She breathed, holding a hand to her chest. “Oh, I’m sorry, is it my face?” “Oh, shut up.” But she smiled all the same, “What are you doing here? Checking up on me like the parents?” “I just wanted to see my beloved sister, is that a crime?” “It should be when one’s related to you.” Amon rolled his eyes, “You’re such a hard ass, but I love you anyway.” “Yuck.” The rider leaned over, scrutinizing Liara’s work. The glasswork was shaped in the form of various eagles in flight, small, perhaps half an inch, but detailed and comprised of swirling colors that gave it life. It was beautiful. “You did well, Liara. I’m not so ashamed now to be your brother.” “Yeah, whatever. See if I give you anything for your birthday this season.” Amon grinned, then turned his gaze to roam the vast sea of red that lay out before him. So many, working diligently toward one goal. Completion of art.

[Cyrill]

OOCIt just occurred to me that it’s the Glass Reverie where the glassblowers work, not the gallery. Apparently, “the craft gallery is home to seamstresses, weavers, painters” (wiki quote) and stained-glass workers, but not regular glassblowers. I should be ashamed of myself for not realizing this sooner, seeing as Cyrill is a glassblower and all…:D))

Cyrill crouched down next to her workstation, scrutinizing the vase she was working on from various angles. She must have looked a little strange, seemingly hiding behind her table, only a mass of red curls peeking out from behind the table’s edge. Not quite satisfied with the roundness of the vase on the left side, she straightened and picked up a flat, metal paddle. She had already separated the vase’s neck from the punty, but there was still some time left before it fully cooled. With a feather-light touch she caressed the vase with the paddle.

As she worked, she heard snatches of a conversation in the near vicinity of her workstation, but didn’t look up from her work. She did recognize one of the voices partaking in the conversation – a glassblower she didn’t know very well. What was her name again? Liana? Liara? Yes, Cyrill decided, the woman’s name was Liara. However, she didn’t recognize the second voice. It was rare to hear someone new in the workroom. The voice was decidedly masculine – definitely not one of the Yasi apprentices.

Cyrill mentally berated herself for being tempted into a distraction. Other people’s conversations were none of her business. She just had to focus. Focus and work. Focus and work. The bulge in the blown glass smoothed out, leaving the vase’s form perfect….or as near to perfect as it was going to get. Deciding to check the vase’s form one more time, Cyrill dived back down to the table’s level, trying to iron out any imperfections with her gaze. Seeing a virtually nonexistent error near the base of the vase, Cyrill rose back up to continue working on it. Just as she straightened, her gaze traveled across the room in one quick sweep, immediately noticing a new face. A few tables over and across from her stood a male Inarta. She did not recognize him as one of her fellow artisans, so he must have been the owner of the foreign voice she had heard earlier.

Right after Cyrill rose up from behind the table, the paths of their respective gazes seemed to meet and she ended up looking straight into the man’s eyes. She gave him a quick smile, the corners of her mouth quirking up and her lips parting just a bit to reveal a gleam of white teeth. Less than a second later, she was looking down at her vase again, telling herself that she couldn’t afford to become distracted with every new person that walked into the Glass Reverie.

[Amon]

oocOhh I assumed jewelers and things were lumped in with the other crafters (not the glassworker kind!) but I will change it, hehe! No problem. XD Liara had gone back to her work, absorbed in her task the moment Amon had ceased speaking with her. But he needn't bother with her any longer, because someone else had caught his eye. A lovely young woman, who passed him a glance when, he assumed, she had heard them speaking. Now she seemed just as absorbed in her work as his sister was, but her task appeared far more interesting and productive than what Liara seemed to be doing. He approached, slowly but with long strides, making sure to observe the rest of the artisans at work, diligent yet precise, until he stood a foot behind Cyrill. He watched for several seconds, as she seemed to inspect her vase, using whatever materials she could to perfect it. It was hard for Amon to keep from mentally calculating how much such a piece would be worth. Then he tapped her shoulder softly, "I'm sorry for intruding," He said quickly, "Your work is very lovely. I hope it doesn't seem strange that I'm creeping up on you, I'm just always curious to learn." He paused, then lowered his hand, so as not to force her to make a mistake on her vase. "My name is Amon, I haven't seen you around before. Are you an apprentice of anyone?"

[Cyrill]

Cyrill had finally succeeded in entering her highest zone of focus where nothing else existed except her and the glass. But no matter how well she thought she had been focusing, she could still feel a tap on her shoulder break her concentration. As soon as she heard the voice coming over her shoulder, she realized that it was the man she had heard earlier. Normally, she would have snapped at the intruder to leave her to her work, but he did call her work lovely and he did sound civil enough… Caught between a feeling of irritation and curiosity, Cyrill turned to regard her unexpected guest.

She bristled a little at the assumption that she could appear to be an apprentice. Then again, it had only been a year since she had vacated that role. “Pleasure to meet you, Amon. I am Cyrill,” she said “No, I haven’t been an apprentice for some time now. Though I have only recently moved to this particular worktable, which might be why you have not seen me earlier. ”

“But I haven’t seen you around here either. You do not work here?” The statement was something between a confirmation and a question. She was fairly sure the man was not a glassblower, but one could never be too certain of such things.

[Amon]

He sensed he might have annoyed the lady, but he tried to let it slide from his attention. He hoped that at least his compliments for her work and artistic talent would at least make up for the fact that he had stolen valuable time away from her finished product. But now he seemed to have second thoughts. He stood away from her then, giving her some much needed space between their bodies. After all, it was exceptionally hot in the reverie, and the various materials used for glassworking wasn't making it any better. "My apologies," he said again. Of course, how idiotic of him to assume that she was an apprentice. If anything he should have asked her if she was a master, because indeed, her work was very much in that level, at least from what his untrained eyes could see. "Strange that I wouldn't have spotted someone so lovely from afar or up close. Cyrill, a pleasure." He gave her a charming smile, but whether he was trying to be flirtatious was questionable. She seemed young, and he, well, he wasn't in his early twenties anymore. "I don't usually visit the Reverie," He replied, "I'm a Rider. My work frequently takes me outdoors, so the time I have inside is, I suppose, somewhat limited." He shrugged, as if to emphasize this, but really his darkened skin could identify him as one that left the volcanic haven of Wind Reach for long lengths at a time. "But please, I'm more interested in yourself... If you don't mind. Would you like for me to leave you so you can finish?" He inquired, "I would very much enjoy a few lessons in this art."

[Cyrill]

OOCI am soooo sorry for the late reply. RL has been eating up all of my time.

Cyrill couldn’t help but feel charmed by the man’s flattering manner. He seemed pleasant and genuine as far as Cyrill could tell, though she wasn’t a real expert on people. It was only when he introduced himself as a rider that Cyrill actually took notice of his darkened skin – an effect of constant exposure to the sun, no doubt. Cyrill had never been very perceptive of people, as they always came second to her work. She had the capability to notice the smallest imperfections and details in a blob of molten glass, but she couldn’t pick up on even the simplest signs in a person.

Of course, his being a rider intrigued her even more. The Endal fascinated her, if only for their ability to fly above the Avora duties that she so often considered mundane.

“You don’t have to leave. In fact, I would actually prefer some company,” she said with a small smile.

“As for lessons, I’d be happy to show you a few things. But tell me, how much do you already know of glassworking?” she inquired. “I wouldn’t want to bore you with information you already have a handle on.”

[Amon]

oocIt's fine baby cakes. Ah, now relations were getting above the negatives! Amon was most pleased, for he wouldn’t have forgiven himself if he had ruined his chances with such a lovely young Avora. He wasn’t one to enjoy having annoyed anyone, nor did he like being left in the dark on matters such as the cause for aggravation or animosity between another, so when Cyrill appeared as if she had lightened quite a bit, Amon realized that he had been tense. He allowed his shoulders to relax, and although Cyrill might not have noticed little details on his person Amon certainly noticed the details on hers. And the rider smiled at her remark, bowing his head slightly in acknowledgment. “I’d be honored, Cyrill.” Then he paused, knowledge of glasswork? “I’m afraid I haven’t the slightest idea about anything relating to glasswork. What I do know revolves around what my sister might tell me, but she and I.. well we aren’t as close as we should be.” He gave a soft smirk toward her direction. “Something about inflating glass? Though I’ve no idea how you would go about doing that. It always has fascinated me; the art of working with glass in such ways that it is an established art form in and of itself. I’ll pay you for your time, of course,” He added quickly, in case she presumed he was using his rank to acquire free lessons, “It only seems natural.” You're being a suck up, came his eagle companion's fleeting thought. Shut up, I'm being kind.

[Cyrill]

“Close enough,” Cyrill said with a nod, a ghost of a smile passing across her lips. The fact that glass was inflated was easy enough to guess, but surprisingly few non-Artisans actually did.

Cyrill waved a dismissive hand at the offer of money. “That won’t be necessary. I didn’t pay anything to learn, no reason that you should.” Still, it was nice of him to offer. “I’ll be back in a moment,” she added, lifting up the vase with one hand to lay it in the crook of her right arm. Quick, long strides carried her to the cooling rack where she placed the vase in an empty spot.

Returning to her workstation, she picked up a long metal rod, weighing it in her hand. “This is a blowpipe. It’s the most basic and most important tool in glassblowing. It’s also the first tool used in starting a new project.” She walked a few paces to the left, motioning for Amon to follow and stopped in front of a large furnace. A bowl of molten glass sat within the furnace’s depth. “This is where liquid glass is gathered. We wrap it around the end of the rod like so…” she said, plunging the rod into the bowl and twisting it around for a while to gather the liquid. “This should be enough for one goblet,” she added, nodding to the red-hot blob at the blowpipe’s edge as she carefully pulled it out of the fire.

“So, if you are so interested in glasswork, why not ask your sister to teach you?” she asked conversationally as they moved back to her worktable.

She hefted the pipe atop the marble counter-top. “The surface of the table is called a marver – the second most important tool, in my opinion. We use it to shape the glass before we inflate it.” Holding the edge of the blowpipe with both hands, she demonstrated, rolling the blob of molten glass along the marble surface. Once it looked like Amon had grasped the concept, she offered the metal rod to him with an encouraging, “Your turn.”

[Amon]

“I tried.” More like he pulled that out of his ass, but he had no intention of mentioning that. Instead, Amon patiently waited as she went to drop off her lovely vase at one of the racks that, until now, the rider hadn’t realized was stacked with rows of artwork of varying degrees. He never realized how diligently Avoras worked until now. Perhaps it would do him good to pay more attention. When Cyrill returned, and Amon smiled when she did, he followed her as she spoke about the blowpipe and ultimately paused before a blazingly hot furnace. The heat was nearly overwhelming for him, but he supposed Cyrill had been used to such temperatures by now. “Petch, I’d never be able to stand being so near to these furnaces.” He muttered, although his attention was still locked onto the tool held in the woman’s hands and the liquid that now coated the end. When the avora abruptly mentioned his sister, Amon paused, “We don’t…. get along as well as siblings should, I suppose.” It was only truth, even as he glanced toward the bowed head of his sibling, he couldn’t help but feel the strained relationship they’ve always felt. “Her teaching me is like asking to be thrown off the Edge of the World without a tether. Wouldn’t be worth it.” The rider tried his best to make it sound as if he was jesting, but the underlying implications were too strong to ignore. When Cyrill offered the metal rod, Amon hesitantly took it. “I’m going to mess this up, but please, don’t hate me if I do.” He tried his best to mimick what the avora had done, rolling the metal rod slowly and watching as the liquid glass smoothed along the surface of the marble. “Am I doing this right?”

[Cyrill]

Cyrill raised an eyebrow as the man spoke of his sister. He might have been trying to appear light-hearted about the relationship, but even Cyrill could see that there was a feeling there that ran much deeper than the surface. But whatever it was, it was none of her business.

“You’re doing… acceptably well,” she said, her eyes following the movement of Amon’s hands. He was doing as well as a first-timer could be expected to do. At least he hadn’t been afraid to touch the blowpipe.

“You actually seem interested in this,” she said, as if only now accepting what Amon had told her. “I didn’t think an Endal would want to spend time in the bowels of the mountains – especially in such a hot part of it - when he could be out flying.” The Endal’s actions really did seem like a paradox to Cyrill. After she had gotten a taste of the sky once, she had been yearning for it every day. It puzzled her that someone who did not have a passion for glass would voluntarily stay down here when given the option of being out in that fresh, addictive air.

Once the basic form of the piece was sufficiently established, Cyrill took the rod from Amon and brought one end to her lips. Holding the blowpipe at a downward tilt, she gathered air into her lungs and blew it out in one even breath. The air traveled through the length of the rod and the glob at its end expanded. The glass was now in the shape of an uncertain oval with an air bubble trapped in the middle. She grabbed a cloth from her workstation and swiped it across the end of the blowpipe that had touched her lips. The Masters of the Glass Reverie were very particular about personal hygiene and had drilled the concept into the Artisans from an early age.

She held out the rod to Amon once again, this time with a set of instructions: “This one requires a few more breaths to establish a larger air bubble. Hold it to your lips and blow into it. Get the air from the bottom of your lungs – not your mouth - and feel it travel through your throat and into the pipe. Think of it as an extension of your throat. ”