Monaco Bay Weyr - Craft Clearing
Tucked up in the lee of the rocky outcropping that extends from the hatching caverns, the crafter complex is a compact set of buildings and workshops that house the industry that keeps the Weyr running. The buildings ring a paved, octagonal central courtyard which is often used for apprentice lessons. Most of the major crafts have representation: the smithcraft has a squat stone building with billowing smoke rising from its chimney, while the miners and glasscrafters share a two-storied complex next door. Woodcrafters run up against harpers, which in turn abutt against the low-slung apprentice barracks. There's even a small cafeteria located just beside the barracks, for those crafters too busy to go all the way to the commons to catch a meal. To the south, behind a screen of scrubby trees, lies the beastcrafter area and runnerbeast compound, complete with a dirt racetrack oval.
Rukat has set this ever so slightly cool winter evening, insects chirping softly somewhere in the distance, and the grass is just starting to catch a bit of dew. Inside the Crafting Complex, the Harper building is minimally lit by glows and a few scattered electric lights as most has called it a night, with but a few industrious individuals seemingly intent to continue burning the midnight oil— so to speak. Bellamy is one of those lingering, having sequestered himself in the classroom that contains the one and only piano for student use. Muted but elaborate key work can be heard drifting outwards from behind the closed door, a voice like warm melted honey following along in a four-octave range, but the words are impossible to make out. Damn that was some good sound proofing, eh?
Tykel rarely visits this portion of the Weyr, the noise and activity keeping him away except for absolutely necessary errands and chores. This must count as an absolute necessity tonight then for it finds him slinking from building to building, room to room until he finds what he wants…all he has to do is follow his keen ears. He stops outside Bellamy's hideout, listening at first, then softly humming along. His pitch is reasonable for one untrained in music, it's not terrible but not fantastic either. He still waits, waiting for a pause in the music where he might knock on the door without scaring his fellow Candidate half to death. On his shoulder Azure Flame's eyes shine in the dim light like miniature lamps. Hopefully there would be a pause soon now, or Tykel's nerves were going to fail him, though there is yet time; after a good dinner and a nap the lanky Candidate is at his most relaxed.
Every single day, even when 'off', Bellamy haunts this building and not only at his Journeyman's instance to continue his craftwork regardless of that pretty white knot sitting on his shoulder— for nothing is guaranteed in this world, let alone a lifemate. Tykel does not have to wait long for that pause he was hoping for, the music on the other side of the door spiraling up into a dizzying crescendo as piano and voice reach an apex and then plunge suddenly into delicate tinkling finish. He is completely unaware of the accompaniment to be found beyond that small music room, or that he has a visitor, pulling a pencil from behind his ear and scratching out a few changes on the parchment paper laid out beside him. Bellamy's pinned the long section of hair he has off to the side with a cerulean barrette in the shape of a dragonfly, the accessory accented by a few rhinestones and metallic paint. The rest of his attire is simple enough with khaki capri pants and a sleeveless wrap tunic in a middle shade of blue, the sandals on his feet made of bamboo.
Tykel waits for the pause and then knocks softly at the door, almost invisible in the darkness for he is clad in black shorts and a open vest of sapphire with a delicate paisley design. As he waits for the door to open, he hums a few bars of some old sea shanty to himself, for he was taught them by his now-thankfully absent father, Azure Flame's eyes the biggest giveaway to his presence…that and the brilliant white of his knot.
Silver-rimmed golden eyes lift at the soft rap of knuckles on the door, brows quickly following suit before they lower into the very beginning of a furrow as he tucks his pencil away back into it's spot and then slides off the bench he was seated on. Within a handful of strides his hand is on the knob of the door and its being turned, pushing the swing out into the dimly lit hallway outside. It takes a moment to adjust to the gloom, but when it does the harper's expression transforms to one of recognition, "Ah, Tykel…" Names and faces, every so often, not a problem when there was reason, "…what's up?"
Tykel moves his left hand to rub the little blue's head. "I believe you mentioned something about me actually being able to sing?" He pauses for a moment. "Finally decided to take you up on that, if you've the time. Finally have some time myself and not being so exhausted that all I want to do is sleep…but chores were not too taxing and I was able to sneak in a short nap before dinner so I thought I'd track you down. You are quite talented, by the way. You need never fear for your daily bread."
Fleetingly, Bellamy appears confused and unsure, but in the very next second he brightens as he remembers the offer that he'd made a little while back, "Ah, right! Of course, come on in…" The harper apprentice steps back and out of the way to make way for Tykel, smiling at man and firelizard both. Where his own little beastie happened to be is anyone's guess, likely curled up somewhere or popped out for a snack or something while his pet was practicing. Despite the cheerful scoff and flapping of his hand, Bellamy blushes very discretely at the compliment on his skill, "I've a ways to go, but thank you…"
Tykel steps in, strides long and low to the ground, step confident. "I do not give empty compliments; you are welcome Bellamy." He eyes the piano curiously…he's never seen one before, or at least not so close up. At his home nameless cothold the music was acapella or accompanied by an ancient accordion that was likely out of tune. "I think I am ready to begin…I have always enjoyed learning but I pick up some things faster than others I am afraid."
Again, Bellamy's eyebrows raise, this time with a few bobbles of his head prior to his own gaze darting back the way towards the piano. His paternal grandfather had provided one to him back at Ista and Harper Hall had several, so he'd never really been without in his life, the very idea of a lack not so much alien as inexperienced. As if sensing Tykel's interest, "You can touch it if you like, it doesn't bite…" he teases, closing the door behind the artist candidate and making his way back over the piano bench. Bellamy then flaps a hand soon after returning to his seat, "There's no judgment here. Safe space and all." Giving his hands and arms a bit of a stretch, "The best place to always start is warm up exercises, which isn't the most exciting thing in the world, but a necessary evil. Otherwise, you run the risk of straining your voice."
Tykel moves to lean an arm on the piano, crossing his legs while standing and letting one hand run over the wood. "It is certainly a beautiful thing with a beautiful sound…in the right hands, that is, which are not mine." He shakes his head a bit ruefully…his hands are skilled with pencils and paintbrushes and oil pastels and things one can draw with. "And warm ups so it is. I know it's important to stretch out and warm up before taking physical exercise so, why not?" Azure Flame is content to stay perched rather than explore, regarding Bellamy with his dazzling emerald eyes.
"It's not for everyone and honestly, there aren't many harpers that choose it as their instrument," Bellamy confesses, shoulders shrugged slightly, "It's not easily transportable due to the size and weight and this kind is much too wide for most doorways." A bulky accompaniment meant a harper better hope that the weyr they are assigned to had one already, otherwise they would have no choice but to sing acapella or paired with an out of tune accordion. "Alright, so, I'm going to play five keys up and then four back down scale. We'll start in the lower range and work our way upwards in octave to warm up and test your range, just do your best to match the sound your hear with your voice." With that, Bellamy sets his fingers on the keys and plays those five keys up and four back down as he said he would, his voice joining in example with 'ah's punctuating as well as sliding up and down the scale. "Like that." A pause and, "Now you…" Bellamy repeats the same scale then, expecting Tykel to do as was instructed.
Tykel listens with cocked head, and then makes the attempt himself. His sense of pitch is not that bad so he's fairly close to being on key but four keys up and his old problem reasserts itself. His voice cracks loudly, dropping from a boyish falsetto to a low tenor. When that happens Tykel launches into a string of carefully chosen and creative expletives. It's for lack of trying, it's for the fact that his voice has not fully "broken" yet into its adult format…not that Tykel knows that, he just knows he's furious with his voice that seemed to have a mind of its own, particularly on high pitches.
Thankfully for them both, Bellamy's keying doesn't falter with that crack in Tykel's voice, the movement of his fingers simply lifting off the ivories and letting his fellow candidate curse away at his leisure. As he'd said, there was no judgment, waiting until the sting from those colorful metaphors fades from his ears and offers him a gentle smile— pointedly, not one that is placating. "You've got a good sense of pitch and you do well staying on key," he compliments studiously and then explains gently, "I'm not a healer by any stretch of the imagination, but boys of an age can have a rough time of it where singing is concerned. Our voices change as we get older, but the transition is often times precarious and unpredictable." Translation, what just happened was perfectly normal and totally expected. "I think until your voice changes over completely, it might be better to stay away from the higher notes and stay within a lower range."
Tykel's ears rim with red. "Sorry…I picked up some expressions from my father," he explains. "I remember Lomion having some trouble with his voice but it stopped when he was sixteen. I'm 18 now. I guess it must be different from each person. And I will do as you advise, keep it lower in pitch. And thank you for the compliments…at least when my voice works it does a decent job."
It is here that Bellamy laughs, that sound as melodious in nature as his singing voice. He's all changed over and everything too. The jerk. "Don't worry about it, really…" he says, flip-flopping a hand in a short but quick vertical fanning motion outwards towards Tykel, "I've heard worse from my own father, except he peppers heavily in every day conversation." Not to mention being heavily tattooed and body pierced, J'en was six foot two inches of bronzerider and could cut an imposing and intimidating figure, although— to his chagrin— not as often as he would have liked. Bellamy nods several times in agreement, "It's definitely different for everyone. Mine changed over practically overnight shortly after I turned fourteen." Lucky that, considering his craft. "We'll just keep to the lower range and give your voice a chance to rest and relax." Brightly the harper smiles with two rows of straight white teeth, "Absolutely it works and you sound really good! You ready to give it a go again?"
Tykel returns the smile with one of his narrow-lipped ones. "Yes, let's try it again." He clears his throat softly, lightly massaging his neck to work out any kinks in the muscles. Azure Flame croons encouragement, rubbing his head against Tykel's cheek. "All right little friend, I'll try again and see if I can't get it right this time." He waits, swallowing once to prepare throat muscles for further activity.
Looking between artist and firelizard, Bellamy continues to grin, the expression fading to one far more gentle as he nods and places his fingers back on the keys of the piano but lower down than before, "Here we go…" And with that he starts on the same five note scale up and four back down. He'll continue with this, going a little higher each time, with his ear set on when he starts to hear strain. The moment that happens he heads back down the scale and reverses direction towards the deeper octaves, listening for when even those notes become difficult.
Tykel obliges, doing much better on the lower notes, with only one crack at the upper limit of his range. Downwards is a bit easier on him but even he hits a spot where he has trouble reaching the proper pitches, instead staying a bit sharp to take the strain off his voice. When Bellamy is done Tykel moves to massage his throat thoughtfully. "How was that?" he asks. His range is good for someone untrained and it's obvious that his ear for pitch is as keen as his eyes for detail and drawing. Azure Flame is crooning scales now, though he has to do them much higher than his person can manage.
If this whole dragonrider thing doesn't work out for Bellamy, he might just make a decent Master Harper someday, seemingly possessed of an endless patience paired with some very sage advice on how Tykel can make those little adjustments to even out the texture of his voice even in the precariousness of his current developmental stage. He offers suggestions every now and then as they run up and down the scale that seems to suit the other candidate well without straining on either end, grinning ear to ear as they finish the warm ups as he looks up, "That was really, really good!" he chirps, "For someone who's never trained? You've quite the ear for sound and once you got used to what we were doing you matched the notes dead on." Clearly, the harper is impressed, but he's momentarily distracted by the firelizard crooning which earns a few blinks of surprise. "You're doing well too, Azure." That said, "Would you like to try a song now?" he asks Tykel, head tilting to one side.
Tykel smiles faintly. "Thank you…I always have had sensitive hearing and eyesight. There's a reason why I wear sunglasses when I'm outdoors all the time." He runs a hand through his hair and then rubs Azure Flame's head until the scales dissolve into love-croons. "Now that I got him to be quiet yes, I think I can manage a simple song." He shifts his weight slightly, eyes glittering with eagerness. "Something besides a sea chantey…I know all of them thanks to my father and his way of singing was just bellowing with some sort of rhythm to it. His voice was very raw from all those Turns at sea, yelling over the wind, and he yelled even at home." He waves a dismissive hand. "But that is the past now. Times have changed, a new world awaits."
Laughing, Bellamy nods, "Right…no sea shanties. Got it. Hmmm?" Thinking on this, the harper candidate chews lightly on his lower lip until something apparently comes to him and he's up, riffling through some papers in a drawer until he comes up with a stack. "Here we go…" Popping over to the piano, he drops himself down to sit and arranges the music score. At the top is written 'The Last Thing On My Mind', though the originator is hard to make out. "So, I'm going to run through it first so you have some idea of what we are going for and then we can break it down into sections so you can learn it. It's not hard at all, I promise." With that, he sets fingers to keys, "This is actually better with a guitar but?" He wasn't nearly as accomplished with the guitar. Taking a breath, Bellamy begins to sing along with the music, " It's a lesson too late for the learning. Made of sand, made of sand. In the wink of an eye my soul is turning. In your hand, in your hand." The lyrics are simple, as is the melody, and the range he uses is on the lower end— admittedly right in Tykel's perfect range, "Are you going away with no word of farewell? Will there be not a trace left behind? Well, I could've loved you better, didn't mean to be unkind. You know that was the last thing on my mind." The melody repeats without much flare, continuing on the same length of cords, soft and gently played as they are sung. "You've got reason a plenty for going. This I know, this I know. For the weeds have been steadily growing. Please don't go, please don't go. Are you going away with no word of farewell? Will there be not a trace left behind? Well, I could've loved you better, didn't mean to be unkind. You know that was the last thing on my mind." Bellamy never deviates from that repetitive pattern, his voice smooth and silky like warm chocolate, but he does dip into the very bottom of his own range with this one. "As I lie in my bed in the morning. Without you, without you. Every song in my breast lies a borning. Without you, without you." Taking a breath, the harper candidate finishes off much as he had begun, proving in fact that is was a simple song but still with plenty of meaning and feeling to be utilized, "Are you going away with no word of farewell? Will there be not a trace left behind? Well, I could've loved you better, didn't mean to be unkind. You know that was the last thing on my mind." And then, tapering off acapella as the music fades out, "That was the last thing on my mind…"
Tykel listens and soon joins in, hesitant at first but finding the notes in his range gains confidence. He rests the fingers of one hand on his throat, feeling the muscles move with the production of song in something like wonder. He keeps going to the end, trailing off a second after Bellamy. His voice is melodious enough but it's hard to judge the quality since his voice is not fully usable for singing yet. But he can put emotion into his words and so he does, a decided wistfulness and a hint of regret coloring his dulcet tones. Finally he stops, breathing deeply. He has no idea of breath support or proper use of the diaphragm in singing but it's not terrible for a first attempt and for sightsinging.
Bellamy is all smiles as he claps for Tykel, enthusiastic for his first run through and that he managed to keep up although not knowing the lyrics. True there was a bit of stumbling there, but overall, the harper apprentice could not be more pleased with the outcome despite having expected the other candidate to just listen. On point, "The emotion was spot on," he encourages, offering a big thumbs up, "We'll need to work on your breath control and posture, but I think with a little bit of work and some time you could sing this song flawlessly."
Tykel 's long white teeth flash in a rare true smile. "Thank you, Bellamy. I guess those sea shanties taught me a little about singing even with such a poor example as my father. And that horrible accordion. I much prefer piano music I believe. I will certainly try to practice as I get the chance. There's always the showers to sing in…seems like everyone else does that."
For Bellamy, his show stopping smiles are considerably more frequent in coming, though not as worrisome as when his lips take on a sharky grin. That's when trouble was on the horizon. For now, his mouth remains in a pleased and friendly split, "Growing up with music and song does help quite a bit when it comes to singing later on. I spent a lot of time growing up with my grandfather, who's also a harper of the singing sort." This said, "That sounds like a plan, certainly, and we can meet regularly to practice if you like, say once or twice a sevenday schedules allowing?" Nodding, "Shall we do some breath and posture work now?"
Tykel nods. "I'm agreeable to regular practice, once a sevenday I could definitely do, exactly when will be schedules permitting." He rubs his throat again and then chuckles as Azure Flame nuzzles his neck. "We can do some work on breath and posture if you like. I have the time."
Hmmming softly, Bellamy pops up again, sliding away from the piano and over to where he's put his bag. Rummaging around in there a bit, he produces a small sack, one that holds a bit of honey and rosemary sweets and offers it over to Tykel, "Here, I want you to put one of these into a pain cup of hot tea after you've done some practicing, it'll keep your vocal cords from tightening up, especially if…like me…you sometimes overwork them." That done, he comes to stand a foot in front of him, "Okay, what I want you to do is copy exactly the way that I am standing. You don't need to stand like this when you sing, but I want you to remember how your chest and lungs feel…"
Tykel is never one to refuse sweets and so he takes it eagerly. "Thank you, I will do so." He moves to copy Bellamy's stance, feeling his muscles and bones shift into a new position they had never taken before. He closes his eyes for a moment, feeling his lungs and his chest and how they feel in this position. He notes it's easier to inhale deeply and that his powerfully muscled chest feels a little tense in a few areas, stretching areas not used to being stretched. He opens sapphire silver flecked eyes. "How is this? And I notice it is easier to breathe in this way."
Bellamy smiles and nods for the thanks, "Of course." Following this and taking up pose, he keeps his eyes on Tykel and watches him get into position, offering a slight suggestion or two before seeming satisfied with the stance taken. "Good, good, just keep your shoulders back and your spine straight and breath in deep all the way in and slowly let it out…let your lungs expand…" There are several bobbles of Bellamy's head, satisfied with the results, "Perfect, and yes. That's the sensation I want you to remember. You don't need to stand rigidly when you sing, but you do need to give your lungs proper room to expand. You'll be able to hold notes longer and give your voice ample projection." And with that, Bellamy places the heel of his palm against the base of his own sternum, "Now, this might sound strange, but do this and expand against your hand and I want you to feel that there. Remember that sensation. This is where the power comes from and where I want you to think about that when you're singing."
Tykel is an obedient student, hand on chest and chest expanding with full, deep breaths. "I sense a lot of muscle down there," he says. "More than I can see on my body. There's definitely strength there to do all sorts of things with one's breath, especially when you can get good, deep breaths. It's almost like running, you have to breathe deeply and focus on your breathing to run well and not overexert yourself." And Tykel should know…he's an avid runner on the beach.
"Exactly, that's it…" Bellamy confirms, "…and the trick is…" With that, he takes a deep breath that expands his chest and allows him to belt out a note that both carries in volume and length, "…to feel that. You have to know where to breath, your limitations, and where you want your voice to reach. It's not as simple as knowing a melody and the words that go with it, and that's where people tend to run into trouble." At the comparison to running, Bellamy snaps of a click and fingerguns at Tykel, "Yes, that's a stellar example. Good job making that connection, Tykel. You can learn breath control and posture without being athletic, but I've found running to be— not only a good way to stay in shape— but to also practice my breathing."
Tykel gives one of his narrow-lipped smiles. "I will work on both," he affirms. Then he puts a palm to his forehead. "Shards I'm sorry to cut this short but I need to go run an errand before I turn in for the night…chores come up early in the morning and I get up earlier to go running. I thank you for the lesson though, you are a good teacher. Just tap me sometime in about a sevenday and we shall have another one."
Grinning and nodding, "That's a really good start, and you did very well today, you should be proud of yourself." There is nothing but smiles, bold and full without restraint, when Tykel tells of his need for immediate departure, "No problem, I know how that is far too well." And oh, how he does. "Perhaps I'll join you for your runs and to be honest, I'm not sure how we've missed one another. I also get up early…" To run, then eat, then start his day. The compliment gets a pfft as a rosy color finds its way into Bellamy's cheeks again, "I'm only an apprentice, but thank you all the same." More nodding ensues shortly thereafter, "Of course, we can talk schedules later and see where they mash up other than mornings." He'll shoo Tykel then, chuckling in his wake.