Time - Evening, Dinnertime
Location - Fort Hold Harper Hall/Healer Hall, Dining Hall
@Kate | Gavael
For her music instruction, her harp was inspected, as was her skill with it.
"Do you know any other instruments?" the craftmaster asked of her after nodding in approval with the songs she played.
"Yes, lute, guitar, and violin," she replied confidently.
Emalia did so, showing the craftmaster what she knew and how well she knew it. Regretfully, her violin skills were barely passable, but she managed through several songs, just enough for the craftmaster to scowl at her skill. "You can play it... but not nearly well enough. We will have to work on that." As for her lute and guitar skills, the craftmaster provided only a neutral countenance for her to read him by. "You will need to practice more."
Did that mean her skill was passable? Emalia did not dare actually voice the question.
Theory followed her instrumental instructions. After Theory, she faced dreaded Composition where she was required to produce what little music she had written over the turns. It was her weakest subject matter, but she managed to survive the intense scrutiny of her work, albeit with severe criticism. It was enough to leave her frustrated by the end of the day when she returned to her room, but her room mates proved kind, and helped her feel more welcome than the craftmasters she faced.
The second day, Emalia met the Master Dancer and Master Archivist. When the Master Dancer asked her what sort of dancing she could manage, Emalia provided a list from ballet to flamenco. With a curious smirk, her instructor demanded she show the diversity of her skill. From one dance to another, Emalia revealed her skill, proving her strength for the first time since her arrival to the Harper Hall. It filled her with confidence, even when she was asked to repeat certain steps for the master to better measure her skill. There was always room for improvement, but the master understood why the Master Harper had requested her transfer.
"We will make good use of you, Emalia," the Master Dancer noted as several notes were scrawled in the ledger.
Shortly after the hours of dance, Emalia's feet were measured for several new sets of dancing shoes. Shoes for ballet, shoes for jig, shoes for flamenco, and shoes for folk were to be added to her wardrobe within the next few sevendays.
Next was archiving, which was to take up the second half of her day. The Master Archivist marvelled at her penmanship and her accuracy, but pressed that he wanted her to reach her full potential and master a variety of fonts commonly used, rather than just the black letter front and calligraphy she was so accustomed to.
"There is a purpose for each font, and you will learn each and every one," he pressed upon her as they wandered the shelves of the archives. For the rest of the day, she was to transcribe several worn scrolls and return them to him for inspection. She managed to complete the task with some extra time added to her time in the archives. Late to finish, Emalia could at least say she had turned in the task. Only then was she excused.
She nearly collapsed by the end of the day, especially when she realised she still had one more day of instruction to go: Voice Lessons, Poetry, and Instrument Construction. This craft was going to be the death of her, but Ciri's croons of encouragement were enough to assure her that she had made the right choice. Over the turns, she was certain she will master the skills she needed to walk the tables. It would require diligence and determination, but Emalia was confident she would succeed in her education and with little to no delay.
"Emalia?" one of her floor mates called to her as they passed by her doorway. "You coming with us to dinner?"
While her stomach grumbled at the reminder, Ciri chattered out in excitement. "Yes, please," Emalia smiled back. Even if she felt the pull of exhaustion, she could not say "no" to a fulfilling meal after such a demanding day. With her newly made friends, Emalia wandered down to the Dining Hall, and found a spot on the long bench with the others. They enjoyed their meal while music hummed pleasantly in the background over the jovial voices. Emalia found the strength to laugh with the others, though she did mostly focus on her meal in order to fill the hollow pit in her stomach. Once she satiated though irritable pains of severe hunger, Emalia managed to spare a look about the Dining Hall for the first time, and truly take in her surroundings.
It was then that she spotted him. There, across the Dining Hall with that familiar head of golden curls, was Gavael. She could not help but smirk at the very sight of him. "Will you excuse me for a moment?" she asked of her company just before she dismissed herself. She crossed the Dining Hall, passing row after row of merry dinners, though she did so as inconspicuously as possible. Once she found a spot behind Gavael, she approached him with impressive stealth and finesse, and slipped her hands over his eyes. "Guess who," she whispered playfully into his ear.