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Turnning to the boy Ephia smiled warmly. "You did a wonderful job Moranis. I am most pleased witht he color and I am sure Ariath will approve of it as well." Green orbs danced back to Emoraan. "The material will be pleasant to the touch and will be wonderful for dancing in."

Ephia had no problems stripping in front of the Master Weaver and his son. Like most Dragonriders nudeness wasn't really a issue. Removing each garment of her riding gear she carefully laid them over a nearby chair before stepping up onto the desired stool. The sunlight warmed her skin to a pleasant degree as she held her arms out as described. So many times had she had her mesurments taken that such a task was nothing more than second nature to her.

Once assured by the Master Waver that he had the mesurments needed Ephia stepped down from the stool and placed her riding gear back on. WHile lacing up the front of her tunic she looked over at Emoraan as the mention of the vests.

"He had mentioned them to me but we rarely have time to talk about such things. With the clutch on the sands and the upcoming Pass so close things for us both have been hectic."

Finishing up the lacing with a quick and uneven bow Ephia grabbed hold of her boots and stuffed her feet into them.

Emoraan sat in front of his window, sewing a hard leather like material to a lighter fabric. Thread ate quickly through every thing that was not metal, stone or water. But it was not like he could sew any of those things into a vest. Instead, he would have to make something that would be pliable...but hard.

"Bah," and he threw the sewing at his desk. Standing up, the MasterWeaver stretched his legs. He rubbed his eyes and looked out the window. The sun was shining today. He wondered how long before the Hatching. But he was sure that they would send a dragon to come get him when the event occured. After all, Ephia would be wearing his dress...and so would many others there. It was one of the best times to show off his designs. Besides, a Gather, of course.

He needed food. And inspiration. One could not achieve greatness without both. Wondering if he should send his son to get food or to make the journey himself, Emoraan stood for such a long time that he seemed to be a living statue.
Meekar cheeped quietly. He was hungry as well.

"Okay, my silly flit. Down to the kitchens with us."

Eventually, the MasterWeaver learned that his son was visiting another apprentice in the smithhall. Weaving and Smithing were quite similiar, just with different materials.

Emoraan sighed. His hall had seen better days, it was as if a lull had fallen onto Rias that none could escape. Stitching patterns together, he wondered when the Hall and Weyr would have a chance to celebrate...anything.

His vests were going well. A new plant material had been snuck to him from the south continent and it seemed to do quite well against most elements. But the problem was Thread. Until Thread fell, there would be no proof that his ambitions worked. Staring out at the eastern sky, he wondered how long it would be before Pern was once again scarred.

The sound of hooves clattered against the ground as the apprentice approached upon the gangly legged runner he rode, it's nostrils writhing as it inhaled deeply at reaching the weaver hall. It nickered, thrashing up its head and chewing the bit in its mouth as the young man dismounted, clapping one hand against its sweat-coated neck.

"Well this is the place Shylight." He said in a whisper, leading the runner over to tie its reins to a nearby post. He'd find out where the beast should be kept later, but he supposed he should introduce himself first, even if he did smell like runnerbeast.

Removing his leather gloves he wiped his hands against his thighs as he strode towards the entrance of the Hall, pausing to gaze around. It was still early and not many people seemed to be awake at this time.

Clemar drew in a deep breath, raked fingers through dark tresses of hair and began towards the entrance.

He whirled around, taking a couple of steps back from where he had been standing at the entrance to see who it was who entered after him. The Master Weaver perhaps? He hoped so. The pack on his back was growing considerably heavy now and his shoulders tensed up at its weight.

However it was no Master standing at the door...just a girl.

"What are you sneaking about for?" He snapped indignantly, dark brows furrowing as he gazed at the other with a critical eye. She looked dustier than himself so he guessed she must have walked some way. Obviously she was a simple apprentice...maybe not even that.

Clemar whirled around, frown instantly lost from his face as he reguarded no other than the Master Weaver. Great, this wasn't the best first impression he could have given..he'd probably be thrown out straight away.

"Master Weaver Emoraan." He bowed his head a little, straightening his posture, "I am Clemar." He held out a rolled skin, details that had been written on it by his former superior at the Weyr.

It read:

Master Emoraan,

The boy Clemar has recently suffered a terrible loss - that of his green dragon Guraith - and feels he is no longer able to stay at Rias Weyr, even to continue his studies as a weaver.

He has a talent that I'd be sad to see wasted and so I ask whether you have a room in your Hall for an apprentice such as him. He can be a little cold at times, but he has skill which I'm sure you can help flourish.

I thank you in your consideration.

Weyrleader L'cian

The boy of course did not know of what was written within the scroll, though he could probably guess. He knew that L'cian - the man who would have been his Wingleader - had probably written in the information to save himself from explaining. It still hurt badly to think of the events that had occured and everytime he tried to talk about it he would find himself choking up.

L'cian had been so good to him.

He let his head fall forwards, waiting for the Master to speak.

Taakya gasped a bit in surprise as the boy snapped at her, not expecting him to even pay heed to her, let alone being so rude. Rather than retorting she held her tongue, which could be unfortunately sharp at times, and kept the surprised expression. She lifted her chin a bit, watching his eyes evaluating her, what a great impression.... Her eyes rolled a bit, reminding herself that it didn't matter what this boy thought, only what the Master thought, and any that bought her weavings, if they did... A deep breath calmed her emotions as a firm ignorance blocked this Clemar from her thoughts.

As the Masterweaver appeared, a grateful smile spilled across the girls features, replacing the surprise and fear that had been. After he and Clemar spoke she curtsied, "Masterweaver, it's a pleasure to see you again! I am Taakya, I think I forgot to give you my name at the gather." She smiled a bit abashedly at this slip up. As she was allowed to enter, Taakya looked about, taking in Master Emoraan's words carefully, her expression one of unfaltering concentration, not letting a single emotion betray her in this moment of prudence. She had sought out this sanctuary not only because of her love of the loom, but because she had heard of its reputation of equality. It was a good place for a hopeful girl like herself to go.