Enter the artist... (attn: any learning rank)

[Sunny]

Beron’s voice comforted Owen, though he wasn’t quite ready to respond. Instead he flashed a smile at his new acquaintance and propped himself against the nearest vertical surface to think.

Owen very seldom felt stupid, but at that moment he very much did. How in the Light had he made it through Rodric’s test; a shouting match with his father about his unexpected new future; Traveling to the Tower through a hole in the air; signing his freedom away in a book; having all his things taken away; and finally several days of living there before it occurred to him that he would someday be Asha’man?

The boy eyed his fingers warily, but as they did not seem liable to erupt into flame, he eventually began to laugh at himself, self consciously scrubbing his hand over his face as if the touch could push his embarrassment away.

“I hope my outburst didn’t make you uncomfortable,” he told Beron finally, “but thank you for, um.” He gestured to where the Drin had settled them, his manner expressing gratitude where his words failed him.

“You’re right- I’m really lucky to be here. All the things there are to learn, all the time I will have to explore, it’s...bloody amazing.” Certainly better than dying young in a Trolloc raid due to his lack of aptitude in battle, and prior to Rodric’s appearance that was truthfully all he had to look forward to.

“I think it was just that the reality of being able to channel finally hit me. Delayed reaction, or something.” He smiled ruefully. “The One Power has always been the stuff of legends, you know? I hardly seem worthy, but...well, here I am.”

He paused, looking at Beron thoughtfully. “Here we both are, in truth. Channelers aren’t the only one who can bring about wonders, you know, nor are they the only heroes featured in stories. I will write ballads about your future prowess as Gaidin, I’m sure of it. Just you wait and see!” His eyes danced and his voice strengthened as he teased his companion, but that squirming ball of confused shock lingered on in the pit of his stomach.

[Lugh]

Beron

Beron was glad when Owen flashed him a smile, he hadn’t been sure he was getting through to the young Soldier. When he moved himself to the wall, Beron gathered their books and let Owen work out his thoughts.

“I hope my outburst didn’t make you uncomfortable,” he told Beron finally, “but thank you for, um.” He gestured to where they were settled.

“Think nothing of it, I have a large family so we seldom had too many days free of outbursts,” Beron chuckled as he recalled how often his sister would resort to hysterics, although he wasn’t entirely sure Owen would enjoy the comparison.

“I think it was just that the reality of being able to channel finally hit me. Delayed reaction, or something.” He smiled ruefully. “The One Power has always been the stuff of legends, you know? I hardly seem worthy, but...well, here I am.”

He paused, looking at Beron thoughtfully. “Here we both are, in truth. Channelers aren’t the only one who can bring about wonders, you know, nor are they the only heroes featured in stories. I will write ballads about your future prowess as Gaidin, I’m sure of it. Just you wait and see!” Owen teased Beron heartily.

“No songs for me, too many gleeman songs are about a man up to his chin in trouble,” Beron laughed, waving off Owen’s enthusiasm in a burst of embarrassment. “Although one or two might help me with dicing and dancing. Of course you’ll need a good tune to fool the young serving women,” Beron laughed as he imagined the youth with him wide eyed in the chaos of a tavern. One day, let’s just get our pins and new jackets first Beron thought to himself as he tried to think of what else to say.

“I’m sure you will get the hang of everything required here, at least the Grey Tower seems content to allow students time. In my short time here so far, they seem to expect your best effort but understand it can’t be done in a day. But we better join the rest if you feel better, I know the Drin will not leave much of the midday meal left.”

[Sunny]

Owen pushed himself upright with a nod, turning himself back on the path toward the dining hall. In his mind, he attached his worry to the wall he’d been leaning against and left it there. Whatever was to come, Beron had the right of it really. Someday he would be Asha’man and this day but a distant memory.

“A song to fool the serving women, you say?” He asked. When he spoke again his voice shifted into the lilting cadence of High Chant, marred only a little by the effort it took to improvise on the spot. “Listen fair people, for I would tell you a tale of a man of upstanding honor, with humility so profound that none could see his skill when looking upon him. The Bards tell tales of his silver tongue, that which spake only the gentlest honesty. They sing of his visage that is said to shine above all others, like unto the evening star in brightness. Beron the True of Saldaea he was called, of humble family and humility paramount, yet many were his adventures…”

He carried on in this fashion for some time, drawing on the bits he knew of his companion in order to build an absurd tale of glory and triumph that painted Beron has a great hero without actually putting him in any real danger. Eventually he had to stop, not because he ran out of words, but because he could not get them out past his giggles. Besides, they had arrived at the dining hall and there were too many ears that could overhear his fanciful spinning.

“It was kind of you to help me,” he managed to say as they passed through the door. “Any time you wish a song or a painting, you need only ask. It’s the least I can do. Friends?” He held his hand out in open invitation, and didn’t bother to hide his joy when Beron shook it firmly.

“Fantastic! I’m starving- let’s get some food before my stomach sets up house with my spine.”

OOC: I'm sorry for vanishing! This thread could end, or it could continue- we're good for RRs either way. Up to you!

[Lugh]

Beron
Beron was glad to see Owen get himself up, dust himself off and set out for the dining hall. For a Sheinaran, Owen seemed remarkably open and flitted from one emotion to the next. Still he was a good companion, and Beron assumed there would be few dull moments around him.

“A song to fool the serving women, you say?” Owen asked. When he spoke again his voice shifted into the lilting cadence of High Chant, marred only a little by the effort it took to improvise on the spot.

“Listen fair people, for I would tell you a tale of a man of upstanding honor, with humility so profound that none could see his skill when looking upon him. The Bards tell tales of his silver tongue, that which spake only the gentlest honesty. They sing of his visage that is said to shine above all others, like unto the evening star in brightness. Beron the True of Saldaea he was called, of humble family and humility paramount, yet many were his adventures…” Beron at first groaned when he heard the High Chant, but he had to admit that as Owen spun and extolled all of his imaginary virtues, that the Soldier had a great voice and keen mind. Still he could feel his face flushing, and he had to cough a couple of times to avert his face when they passed a couple of comely Novices.

Eventually Owen quieted, thankfully ending his tale just as the two of them arrived at the dining hall. Beron could feel his face cooling and he took a few breaths to collect himself after the pair descended into laughter and fire of giggling. “You missed your calling I think, there probably aren’t too many Ashaman that could High Chant with the gleemen,” Beron said with honest appraisal as the two waited for the line of learning ranks to file inside.

“It was kind of you to help me,” Owen said as they passed through the door. “Any time you wish a song or a painting, you need only ask. It’s the least I can do. Friends?” Owen held his hand out in open invitation, and Beron was happy to shake it.

“Friends! It’s a good thing too, because that class might be the end of me if there isn’t something to liven it up. And once I have a Ji’val or Gaidin’s quarters I’ll have to use your artistic sense to liven it up a little. I spent too much time in barracks to want my own quarters to look like one. And my sister often bemoaned my sense of art,” Beron mentioned offhand as he prepare his utensils and tray for whatever was being offered.

“Fantastic! I’m starving- let’s get some food before my stomach sets up house with my spine.” Owen moaned jokingly, miming hunger pains as Beron laughed once more.


OOC: No worries Sunny! With all the writing that happens here everyday, it’s easy for a thread to slow off a bit. I think I’d call this one here, it’s a good intro for the two of them. We can definitely do another RP thread with Beron and Owen whenever you’re game though.