Plans and a bit of redemption

01-18-11

Players: Gwennythe, Mackenzie, Castus

Location:

RW Priory: Workroom

There's work to be done, and Roseway House has plenty of chores! An open hearth is inset with an oval copper-bottomed hot water basin for washing clothes, and hung with laundry bats and beetles. The workbench has seen hard use by the many iron-headed tools upon it, with a paw-turned grindstone to keep edges sharp. Groundskeeping tools abound, sickles and small plows and digging forks, and beekeeping supplies too. There are cupboards for cleaning stores; brooms, sponges, beeswax polish, lye soap, sour vinegar and sweet rose-water, fragrant herbs, brushes, and fuller's earth. Jars of paint, drawn iron nails, bolts of cloth, repair clay, and a dinted, waxy pot for dipping candles clutter the shelves lining the plain plaster and wooden-beam walls. Mushroom-like footstools invite sitting to finish chores, but a restless soul might look out of the open shutters of the narrow, unglazed windows facing out over brook and forest and be encouraged to play hooky from all this work...

Exits: {N}orth {O}rchard, {G}uest {D}ormitory

It's not immediately apparent there's anybeast in the room, as Mackenzie is crouching, up against the far wall. Although he's hidden by the various tables and such, one small indication of his presence is a faint tapping noise, as he inspects the brick set into the wall beneath the hearth. One clawed finger scrapes against the mortar, and taps one of the flat red stones, listening carefully to the sound it makes. The other strokes his chin pensively. It seems he is in his element, more comfortable when alone.

Gwennythe pokes her head in. Looking over the various things. There's a glance for the herbs and tools, but a lingering on the bolts of cloth. She wrinkles her nose and then... her huge ears perk. Tapping! The diminuitive little bat wanders in, curiously. "It is too heavy a tap for a spider's footstep and too, um, how would say, regular... So, I am to ask, there is a beast a-tapping within here?"

MacKenzie swirls about and straightens up, smoothing his waistcoat in a preening manner. "Oh! well, um, yes." The rat peers at Gwennyth over a pair of copper rimmed pince-nez. "Just...checking the hearth." The explaination is simple and lame, but the real one would take quite a bit of time and bore most beasts. "Mackenzie, miss. I assume you are not a new arrival?" He stands there awkwardly, not used to seeing many bats. His tail taps and swirls, curling around his footpaws.

Gwennythe smiles kindly, perhaps taking note of the apparent discomfort. "Indeed, non, Senher MacKenzie..." The little bat says the name carefully, securing it into her memory. "I am Gwennythe, um, a Novice of The Order." Unneccessarily added, as the habit would tell as much. "So. Um. Is our hearth to be well, Senher Mackenzie?"

MacKenzie scratches the back of his neck, and half-turns to look at the object in question. "Well, perhaps you can tell me. I mean, um, if that is..." He turns back and looks at her ears. "Forgive me for assuming, but beasts of your species have a special ability; heightened hearing. Is that so with you?" Perhaps this meeting will be fortuitous after all. He smiles, and when it is not a nervous smile, he actually looks rather charming.

Gwennythe actually twitches her ears. "I have been told I am to hear more than another might; and it is my understanding that another beast is not to 'see' with a sound as I might." She looks a tad embarrassed then. "I am knowing my ears are... larger than is attractive- I have thought the skill to be, maybe, compensation." The little bat then tilts her head, approaching to look around the rat. "I can be helping, however, to um, check the hearth..?"

MacKenzie nods, after some hesitation. "I would not know much about the attractiveness of bats..." he says as a precaution. "But I would not call you plain, Miss Gwennythe." But on to less...disarming matters. "Ahem, yes. You see, I am trying to determine how far back this brick goes. My hope is that it is not simply a facade, for aesthetic reasons. He crouches again, beckoning her over with a paw. "Could you tell how far back it goes before it hits solid stone? If I knocked on it, for instance?"

Gwennythe smiles at the well worded, cautious compliment. "Most kind, thank you." She then frowns and approaches the brick work. "Um. I am not sure. It would depend upon... the um... thickness and gaps of materials..." If there were gaps, she'd be able to tell so much more easily.

The house is old and weathered, and as the Rat had noticed, the mortar has loosened considerably. But as for actual holes in the masonry, he cannot tell. He simply smiles and nods, and curls a knuckle, rapping much harder on the wall now. He pauses, and then repeats the action, watching Gwennythe's face carefully. The glass of the pince-nez reflect the light, just now beginning to turn golden and dwindle.

Gwennythe concentrates. The image forms in her head and she closes her eyes to watch it. She sees the shapes of the bricks, the mortar between and each small hole or crack in said mortar. "To see behind.. This is difficult, but I am seeing that... there are to be gaps here, but I cannot see back into the stone, Senher. Is this as such you were hoping?" She opens her eyes, looking hopeful that she's been some help.

MacKenzie nods, and it is hard to keep the enthusiasm from his voice. "Then that means the wall is completely brick. That is good, very good." He stands and again smooths down his waistcoat. "I have been talking to miss Layne and she said that, if this hearth is usable, She would be much obliged to have my assistance as a blacksmith.” He looks at the fireplace, and hunger is in his eyes. He is ready to have some work. "If we take away some of the brick beneath, we can build a tuyere. And it will do nicely for a makeshift forge." Ah, but he's getting ahead of himself. "If...that's what the Lady would like."

Gwennythe is a little caught up with all the enthuiasm, nodding energetically and blinking but smiling as he explains his hope for work. She looks completely lost when a tuyere is mentioned; clearly she doesn't know what that is. "Uh. Um." She blinks as he sort of rolls to a stop. "That all sounds most useful and impressive Senher, and I am certainly thinking it shall... um... happen. But, it is Frair Lucas, Elder Sinclair or, oc, M'dam Layne who I am thinking you must consult."

Castus is here! Never fear! Or maybe do. The squirrel bounds into the room with youthful energy, looking this way and that. Apparently the trip to town has been finished. Castus spots MacKenzie, and his eyes zero in on his target. Without any word of explanation he stalks right towards the rat, eyes narrow and tail flaring behind him. "MacKenzie!" he says, reaching for the blacksmith's shoulders like he's about to shake him. "I need to talk to you."

Ah! MacKenzie knew he should prepare for this attack! The rat puts his arms up weakly in front of him, but any other mode of defense is repressed, out of common decency. Looking prepared for a fight will only worsen his case, after all. "Oh aghhmmm! Yes, sir Castus what is it?" There is a slight pleading tone in his voice. His eyes flick to Gwennythe. She will be reliable witness if things go awry...right?

Gwennythe steps away from the hearth as Castus appears, initially smiling in greeting. "Ben vespre, Senher... Castus..." She frowns though as he seems to charge the rat and at MacKenzie's reaction. "I am gathering you are to know each other... but this is seeming an odd greeting between friends..."

And his paws land on MacKenzie's shoulders! What's he going to do? Castus leans forward and peers at MacKenzie. "You're a blacksmith, right? Is that the same as a leadsmith? How expensive are you?"

MacKenzie coughs to hide his surprise. Another day without defending his word as a woodlander, it seems. An eyebrow arches. "Yes? Well...they are two different things, but all smithing is similar, really. One must merely know the properties of the different metals. And I have had a life long enough to learn such things." He smooths his waistcoat, hiding his smugness. "Sir Castus, As I have already told you, I could not be of good conscience asking a member of the Abbey Order to pay me for my services."

Gwennythe tilts her head. "That was an.. interesting way to approach a beast, Senher Castus, and I do not think you should attempt it often; you may bring trouble to yourself accidentally." She quietens though, drama is over, so that's good. The bat eyes the rest of the workroom, pondering what she could give a tidy to.

"MacKenzie, you are my favorite rat ever. I promise I won't look at you like I'll hurt you again." Castus pats the rat's shoulders. "We need a leadsmith, apparently, for some work that a glazier is gonna help us do..." He turns to Gwenn with an easy smile. "Ah, Gwenn, don't worry. I wouldn't hurt a fly that hadn't done me wrong!" Except if it was a vermin-shaped fly, or a fly that was trying to get in his soup. He finally releases MacKenzie and crosses his arms. "So what all were you talking about before I barged in?"

MacKenzie looks considerably brighter, and he takes the pince-nez off the bridge of his nose, cleaning them off with a fold of his shirt. "Ah! Now on that matter, Castus, you have perfect timing. I was just discussing with dear Gwennythe how this hearth could be made into a forge, if permission is given. I have always heard it is easier to ask for forgiveness than permission, but it is a rather large step to take." His eyes crinkle as he smiles between bat and squirrel. "I am assuming this work is to hold the panes of glass together, yes?"

"Oc. Permission may be more difficult to ask for, but I am thinking it would be wise, Senher MacKenzie." Gwenn' looks at Castus, then to the rat again. "I am thinking Senher Castus is knowing more about such topic. Now," She eyes the cloth and the herbs, looking like she's remembering something she must do. "I am needing to find Elder Sinclair and, um, to wake him up for my lessons. It has been most nice to meet you, Senher MacKenzie. Ben vespre to you both."

"Ben vespre," Castus says to Gwenn, bowing a little. He has no idea what it means, but it just seems polite to return what etiquette is received, no? He glances back at the would-be forge. "I know how to make bows, mostly," he informs MacKenzie.

MacKenzie Bows as Gwennythe leaves, chuckling quietly. He speaks as he straightens. "Ah, well. That is something I do not know of, and certainly it has it's use...But the first step is simple enough. We must remove some of this brick beneath and create a channel that enters the hearth from below. We then add a bellows and a fire bowl and..." He waves his paws vaguely, indicating that he is leaving out a few details. "It is done. If we are economical in our time, it could take as little as a day's work. Do you think this is something Sir Lucas or Miss Layne would object to?"

"I don't see why not," Castus says. "But I'd ask Layne, and she'll probably say to ask Lucas, who will ask Sinclair. But apart from that? I don't think it'll be a problem. I'd like a forge in here." He waves at the rather puny fireplace. "I mean, I can't really work with metal, but... it'd make the place look a little more official and important?" Maybe.

Awup! There's some dirt on his knees. MacKenzie bends over, quickly banishing the unwanted stuff. Really, he should stop crouching and walking and...standing...in dusty places. "Hmm, yes..." He sounds a bit disheartened at the prospect of waiting for the request to go up the chain of command. "I do hope they hurry about it. I feel like I've been rather...unnecessary. Unhelpful."

"Well! You can stop being that once you report your ability on lead-stuff to the higher ups," Castus says, moving to give the rat a pat on the back. "We were wondering if we'd have to hire all our help."

MacKenzie is still rather confused by Castus' sudden change towards him, but he is silent on the matter. Never look a gift horse in the mouth. "yes, well, it is true. Idleness just never sits well, if you know what I mean. Speaking of which, what have you been up to? You mentioned a glazier, sir."

"Yes, me and Lucas and Layne went into town today," Castus relates, leaning back on a table. "We met a mole with most of his fur all burned away from the heat of his glasswork. It was amazing being in there... all those intricate things being made in a place that'll curl your whiskers right off."

MacKenzie strokes his chin thoughtfully. "Hmmm...I've heard of such a beast...never met him." He says. In truth he hasn't, but a beast of his trade should have, what with them sharing the same city. Probably the same clientele. "Sounds rather uncomfortable...but with your energy, you do not look like you'd agree..."

"Yeah, well, I could barely breathe in the place," Castus says with a shrug. "But it was still... fascinating. You know? I haven't made much in my life except fires and a couple bows. Seeing that kind of skill makes me... makes me like learning."

MacKenzie nods. "It is a wonderful feeling. I myself have spent many seasons sacrificing a settled life for learning." He pauses, not wanting to force a friendship, and thus encounter backlash. "Perhaps, if you assist me, I may be able to teach you a small bit of the knowledge I have acquired." He twitches his whiskers, as if testing the feel of the air for tension.

"Really?" Castus turns to stare at the rat, and his eyebrows raise up. "You'd do that for me?" he asks. "I mean... teach me about forging? Well... sure! Yeah! If it'd make a more useful squirrel, why not!" He grins and this time shoots his paw out, going to give the rat a fair wallop on the back. Those archer's arms don't really know their own strength quite yet. "I really underestimated you, MacKenzie."

MacKenzie starts forward a bit and holds a paw up to his mouth, coughing at the assault on his back. "Aghah! Well, It's hardly any trouble sir." He offers a sheepish smile of his own. "Truth be told, I wouldn't suffer from a little extra company, these days. Sad sorry tale of a rat who's life has grown up and matured and carried on without him, you know." He chuckles, adjusting his glasses, which have loosened a bit from the walloping. "Think of it as a fresh start, eh?" The rat holds his paw out for the squirrel, a renewed sort of greeting.

"Eh, well, um..." Castus rubs the back of his neck, suddenly aware of how awkward and forward he is acting with a rat he presumed to be rather nasty and intent on causing imbroglio. He looks down at the paw, pursing his lips. "Fresh start. I... I know a lot about that," he says with a smile. "I think a lot of us do, just... don't quite realize that." He reaches out and takes the rat's paw, giving it a firm shake.

MacKenzie gives Castus an understanding look. It is an expression that looks well worn on his face, one that he has had to use too many times, perhaps. "As I've said before, you are not the first, nor the hardest to befriend, and I think it was well worth an effort changing your mind." He smiles as the paw is shook. "I will not forgive, as I do not think you need ask for an apology. It is only right to be suspicious of what your experience tells you to be, and I do not begrudge you." The words come out easily, practiced. The rat claps his paws together. "Now I do not feel the day is completely wasted. If you do not mind, I shall retire to supper, and sleep. Tomorrow we shall see about creating a forge, eh?" A last gesture, a friendly paw on the squirrel's shoulder.

"Aye, all right," Castus says, managing not to tense up at the rat's little pat. He nods and does not return it, but does not draw away either. "I'll be there," he promises.

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