15th of Spring, 504 AV
The clatter of pipes was a sound that often met the ear of the young Inarta currently residing within the depths of the Volcano. The clash of the clay and metal pipes against the rack as a glassblower, more often than not more experience than him, settled down to work was a sound he had heard from his earliest days performing Bendi, and from the first time he had heard it, the sound had provided him with comfort. Now that he was an Avora, a glassworker by profession, a man sworn to dedicate his life to crafting beautiful goods for the betterment of Wind Reach, the sound had an even more powerful meaning to it. It didn’t only mean that he was in a place where he could relax, where he was in an element so familiar to him that it was like air. It also meant that he was in a place where he was in complete control. When he was working on the semi-solid glass, he was entirely in control. He could shape it as his will saw fit, so long as the basic criteria were fit. For example, he had to keep the glass spinning, and he had to keep the glass heated. If he failed to continue with either, than he would fail the shape the glass as he wished. The glass would cool too much and crack, or it would begin to droop to one side, eventually dripping off of the pipe and onto the ground, where it could end up injuring him or another artisan. Unfortunately for the poor, youthful red head, he was going to learn this lesson the hard way today.
Working with him today were two very different people. One was the Yasi, Jeheld, assigned to the Hot Shop for the ten day as his Bendi assignment. Every time Jeheld was assigned to the Hot Shop for a ten day, he could see the joy and delight in Yidah, his instructor’s, eyes, and after working with the boy for a few hours, he knew just why. He was dedicated, and he showed certain promise. Yidah was already speaking of taking him under her wing, much like she had for Fenilen, assuring him a place in the Avora caste when he came of age in a year. Somehow, Jeheld had caught wind of these rumors—which were just that, rumors—and had begun to interrogate Fenilen as to what his experience had been like a year ago, when he had turned fifteen, and when he had been assigned a caste, his lot in life. Fenilen ignored him even now, as the melody of eager, interrogative chirps flew from his lips, assailing him with questions so probing that Fenilen almost felt violated simply by being asked them in public.
“What was it like when you were assigned your caste?” Jeheld asked him, golden eyes looking up at him. That was something that was nice. Fenilen was a whole three inches taller than the midget, who stood about 5’2. A quiet glare found its way down to him as Fenilen simply continued spinning the pipe with his non-dominant left hand, humming a quiet tune to himself as he focused his attention on his work. Yidah had instructed him to create a cylinder, measuring six inches long. Probably a piece for a sculpture she was working on right now, that was sitting in one of the furnaces, waiting for this piece. The feeling of the glass parting under the paddle he was using to even it out was as satisfying as ever. Spinning the piece was second nature to him by this point in his short career, but that didn’t mean that he was great at making shapes. He had never made a cylinder before, and it showed. The one he was producing was sloppy and misshapen, with a slight list to the left when held up. A sigh left his lips, and he set about on rectifying it to the best of his abilities. He held his paddle flat up against the listing portion as he spun the pipe, creating a sort of primitive sander. Pushing upwards with the paddle, he began to influence the sagging glass back up to its original position, biting his lip ever so slightly as he did so. If he messed up too badly now, he would have to start all over, and if he had to start all over, Yidah would not be pleased with him. A quiet curse broke through the happy façade his humming had put up, causing Jeheld to look up at him, tilting his head curiously. He had been observing Fenilen’s work on the piece, and disapproval was evident on his young face. What did this little twerp know!? Fenilen had been walking before this little shit was even conceived! Fenilen furrowed his brow, and then the kid did something that made the man have to walk away, lest he explode.
“Were you scared when you went to see the Valintar? Were you nervous?” he asked in the same, high pitched chirps he had before. Damn him! Couldn’t he see that it was his distractions that had made him deform his piece in the first place!? Fenilen bit down on his lip. Hard. He took the pipe in his hand. It needed reheating anyway, this was just a convenient excuse to get away from a Yasi who was asking too many questions about something that didn’t concern him. When Fenilen made it to one of the many Glory Hole furnaces on the wall, he plunged the glass inside of it, spinning it even as it was inside, to ensure that his piece was evenly heated. As his glass’s temperature rose, his fury subsided. Perhaps he was overreacting at the Yasi. He had every right to be curious as to what was in his near future. Fenilen simply… didn’t take kindly to strangers prying into his past. A minute passed in silence before he removed the piece from the Glory Hole, making his way back over to the bench they had claimed for their work, where he placed it on the two metal racks.
“Here, spin for me,” he requested of the boy. “I need to fix the sagging, and in order to do that, I can’t be distracted by maintaining the motion on the piece.” Jeheld eagerly took the opposite end of the pipe in his youthful hands, rotating it with a practiced proficiency. Fenilen hoped Yidah would return soon. He was not sure if he could straighten this piece without her aid or not. Red lips pursed into a thin line as he silently adjusted the paddle, holding it with both hands, moving it up and down the length of the piece, praying to Priskil that Yidah would emerge from the depths of the Hot Shop and save him from his insufficiency sometime soon.