milliways_bar | (no subject)

(no subject)

Masterharper Robinton is back in the bar.

Looking like he has a headache.

Come, tell him there are better painkillers than Klah or Fellis?

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"Almond and lavender oil would help, I think."

There's a tall, slim girl standing nearby with her arms full of flowers and bright autumn leaves, smiling at him.

He looks up with a pleasant enough smile, if slightly pinched around the edges.

"Beg pardon?"

"For your headache," she says, sensibly enough.

"Rub some almond and lavender oil on your temples, and take some honey with tea. It should help a bit."

"Lavender oil? I'm unfamiliar with it."

He sips his Fellis.

"This should help..."

Eventually.

She puts her flowers down and goes to the bar for a moment, coming back with a small vial, which she proffers with a friendly smile that lights sparkles in her big gray eyes.

"Here," she says, "if you'd like. Marilla swears by it, and Marilla is usually right about these things."

"Well, far be it for me to argue with Marilla."

At this point, he'll accept any help offered, and unstoppers the vial, letting a small amount drip onto his forefinger.

"Many thanks. Masterharper Robinton, at your service."

Anne dips a small curtsey.

"Anne Shirley, at yours." She straightens, and looks at him curiously.

"Masterharper? Is that a title?"

"It is. Also, the name of a profession. I'm the Master of my Harpers, as it were."

The oil is tentatively sniffed, and his eyes widen in surprise.

"Odd, that."

She bites her lip, laughing in a way that causes her eyes to crinkle charmingly at the corners.

"It's a bit strong, yes, but it should help you relax, and dull the pain a bit."

She pauses a moment, before continuing. "And do you know a boy named Bran, who plays the harp?"

"I'm afraid not. I'm from a world quite different to most here."

He gently rubs some of the substance onto his temple, pausing only to flick silver hair out of his way.

"A Harper on my world is what you would undoubtedly refer to as a 'Musician.'"

"Oh, I see," she says, listening with interest.

"What is your world like, then, Masterharper? Musicians must be held in high standing there, it seems."

"We do more than entertain."

His other temple receives the same attention.

"We teach, and spy, and learn, and provoke. The only thing that controls a Harper is his Master. And the man that controls the Masters is the Masterharper. And I answer to the Weyrs."

"The Weyrs?"

She frowns, slightly.

"I've never heard of such a thing. Who are they?"

"The Weyrs are where the dragons live."

He sets the vial down.

"And their riders."

"Dragons?" she whispers.

"...real dragons? And their riders?"

Surprise widens her eyes.

"Indeed."

And he whistles.

And a 'miniature dragon' appears out of thin air, settling on Robinton's shoulder.

"This fine fellow is a firelizard. His name is Zair. Dragons-- much the same, but larger."

Anne takes a short breath that is almost a gasp, very surprised.

"He's..." she whispers, looking amazed. "I've never seen anything like him."

"Not many have."

Zair trills, high pitched and rather too close to Robinton's ear, so he's slid onto the bar.

"Scratch his eye ridges? He'll love you forever, the little villain."

Anne reaches out, shyly, and scratches the dragon carefully around the eyes, a smile blossoming on her face.

Zair trills his approval, melting into firelizard-goo in her hands.

"See?" Robinton snatches the opportunity to close his eyes. "Fickle thing."

Anne laughs, and pets the little lizard for a moment more, before looking up.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she says, immediately apologetic, "you must want to rest. I do hope your headache gets better."

"Thank you."

He smiles, as Zair clambers obediently up his arm.

"Strangely enough, the oil seems to be helping already. I think I'll hazard an attempt at sleep."

"Do," she says, and stands with a small smile.

"I hope you sleep well."

She smiles, and walks off, her flowers back in her arms.

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