====September 23, 2013
====Alyei, Bailey
====Bailey comes into the stables at an unusual time, and Alyei gives her lip.

Who Alyei, Bailey
What Bailey comes into the stables at an unusual time, and Alyei gives her lip.
When There is 1 turn 1 month and 27 days until the 12th pass.
Where Stables, Southern Weyr

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Stables
Rehabilitated, the stone stables of Southern sweep grandly in arches and valuted ceilings. A half-loft in the back shows openly the hay piled in sweet-scenting mounds. Beneath, broad box stalls house inhabitants safely away from the purview of dragons… nickers and restless stompings fill the air to blend in with hay and runner-sweat and leather: sweet nirvana.


The stables may not be the most romantic place to watch the sunset, but there is a certain rosy appeal to the slanted light washing through the open windows, the flecks of gold by way of hay-dust and airborne dirt that catch and hold the last of the daylight. Most of the animals are in for the night, and here comes Alyei with one of the last, a roan mare with that gives a cheerful-sounding snort when she's relieved of her saddle. For a few minutes, the smell of leather and sweat gets that much worse, but it's a pleasant smell to the right person, at least. Putting away the tack, readying brushes, the apprentice doesn't seem to mind too much that she's effectively blocked the entrance for now; it's not like there's usually a rush on the stables at this time of day.

There's a sound, from behind the greying rump of the mare; pleasant enough to not spook one of the flighty runners, but nonetheless a sound of expectancy. Bailey has a bag with her - doubtless something tasty and crunchy in there for a denizen or two currently safe in their stalls - and shifts into the stables proper with a low-murmured greeting to the runner who she skirts closely, a hand running a perpendicular line between dock and croup over the round of rump as she enters. Grey eyes peer for the culprit leaving such creature in an area so easily blocked.

She's a lovely patient mare, this one, and turns her head to snuffle inquisitively at Bailey, lipping curiously at the bag. Turning back from a little tack room near the door, Alyei puts a hand across the mare's chest, leaning her weight into the runner and asking, "What're you into, silly gir - " And stops herself, on account of she sees what the mare's into now, or sees a glimpse of it: ducking down, she has an easier time peering under the mare's head than over the top of her neck, and she looks slantwise up at Bailey with a frown. It's a hard to read frown, considering the position she's in currently, could be confusion, could be irritation, could be almost anything. "Uh, hi."

"There we go, lovely," Bailey's Benden-accented tones are soft and mild for a runner. Her dulcet tone only goes that far, though; she squints back at Alyei's frown. "There are cross-ties down the way, you know. By the feed room." It may be A LITTLE POINTED. By this point, the stallion in the first stall on the left has poked his head over the wall and given a half-voiced whinny, shaking out his ruffled mane and pricking his ears at The Treat Giver (which would be Bailey's name should she ever be adopted by a clan of Native American equines, evidently).

The mare shies a step when the stallion perks up, pushing Alyei an equal step back, heels clipping the wall in the narrow entrance, and there's a reflexive, "Hussssshhh there," to the runner, who gets calmed a little further by the reach of a hand to the lead rope buckled beneath her chin. Slipping between the mare's head and the wall, a narrow space but she's a pretty narrow girl, the herder comes around so she's not trying to see Bailey from the far side of a horse's head, and the LITTLE POINTED tone gets a VERY FLAT look back. "You don't say," she answers blandly. "It's not normally a problem. D'you need something?" Bailey could come here a thousand times a day for all Alyei knows, but - the way she asks that question - makes it clear that her Indian name'd be GTFO of My Stables, Woman.

"Perhaps the aisle to be clear when someone wants to walk in. Can you imagine if a runner dumped a rider and came running up home and crashed into this poor thing?" Bailey pats the mare and affixes Alyei with a LOOK. Fearless down-the-way gives a restive snort and bobs his head down over the stall-divider, obviously impatient in regards to his TREATS. What is the hold up human come exalt me with praise and yummy fingerlings. "What was your name, Herder?" Red eyebrows arch as Bailey tilts her gaze downwards again to consider the apprentice.

Alyei narrows her eyes to a tight squint, turning her face up toward the ceiling - not to enjoy the pretty golden light filtering in from the high windows, but to imagine if a runner dumped a rider and - "That'd be a real problem if Silver here wasn't the last one coming in for the night." She gives the lead rope a little wave, jingling the buckle on the mare's halter. With the bucket nipping at her calves while she walks, she starts down the aisle between stalls, passing the stallion with a click-click of her tongue at the back of her teeth. "My name is Alyei, ma'am. What was it you said you needed? 'Cause you're kinda in the way." Thankfully, the runners don't seem to know or care about tension between the people, and the mare gives Bailey another curious nip when she's close enough, kenning to the fact that there are treats in that bag, nom nom.

"And you think that the runners that are stalled here are the only ones you ever have to worry about?" Bailey's smirk in response is perhaps… not atypical of the woman: full-lipped and aglitter with dark amusement. "How quaint." She moves to lean against the post by the door, waiting for Alyei to clear the way with Silver; the goldrider shies her own hip in when the mare gives a curious lip, the tell-tale obnoxious sound of 'nnngh!' coming from her identifying her as one who… has been around a runner or two in her time. "Well. I came to visit one of our runners, if you must insist on knowing."

A theatric sigh leaves Alyei, who tips her head toward the horse's cheek, saying sadly, "Shoot, I forgot I'm supposed to worry about everything might ever happen ever. Man, what's wrong with me." And she swings her foot like she's kicking something on her way, shaking her head at her own silliness while she stops at the open space outside Silver's stall, drawing the runner around in a wide loop so she's not standing right in between herself and Bailey. The conversation's going so well, it'd be a shame to ruin it! "So, you came to waste time in a place you probably don't really belong, but I'm the one that got chastised?" She shoots an irritated squint along the aisle to the goldrider, then a less irritated one to the eager fella in the nearby stall. "Have at, I guess."

Bailey stares at Alyei, her expression suddenly unreadable. Her voice, when she speaks next, is of ice and fire: coldly intense. "What did you say, apprentice?"

Alyei has probably had that a lot in her life. With a put-upon sigh, she straightens from selecting a brush out of the bucket she's chosen and turns toward Bailey. "I said I'm sorry for being saucy, ma'am. I'm sure you can go wherever you want." It's utterly lacking authenticity, the kind of rehearsed apology one would expect from a person who's been called to the carpet a couple hundred times. Bailey's tone at least succeeds in getting her to look like she's prepared to kneel on the block and not just like she's booooored.

Bailey twitches at Alyei. Like no, an actual twitch. Her face kind of half-spasms. "I'm sure I can go wherever I want, in my own damn weyr." Well. It's sort-of hers. It'll totally be hers if Lendai dies and Khaly has her way! Damn ambitious dragons. "Who the hell is your journeyman?" It's not OFTEN Bailey is just pissed-off, but apparently Alyei reminds her enough of herself at that age to get her goat. Fearless gives a PLAINTIVE WHICKER. Human. Stop your fiendish little games and come do the right thing and scratch behind my ears.

"If it's your Weyr, shouldn't you know that?" By the way, Alyei? Totally doesn't think before she speaks. She does look beyond Bailey to the runner, though, focusing her attention on the stallion for a second - which reminds her that she's got a mare there with sweat drying all over her. With the brushing.

"Do you want to be exiled from the weyr, child?" Bailey isn't necessarily older, but there's a line. (Fearless whickers sadly; the line means he's not going to get his treats ANY TIME SOON, doesn't it.) "Is it Kahielle's crazy ass? That would explain so much. Or perhaps Issri? I know Mireille wouldn't allow someone to sass her as bad as you have given."

Alyei's, "No," is at least honest about the possibility of her exile. She doesn't turn back presently, busy brushing down the mare, who remains oblivious to the tensions between herder and goldrider. It must be awesome to be a horse sometimes. "I just sort of report to them all, I guess. I don't know which one's official. I never bothered to ask." Her shrug goes to show exactly how much it's bothered her. "You could probably find out faster than I could." She bites her tongue against anything else, so much so that it's visible, the effort made to self-stfu.

"Well, at least you're honest." Bailey shakes her head at the girl. "I expect you to be a great deal nicer to anyone that comes into this stable than you just treated me, Alyei. If I hear that some visiting holder or weyrleader came in here for whatever reason and you mistreat them, I'll have your hide. Or see to it that you're stuck manning the forge-billows for the next three months and never see hide nor hair of a runner." Because Bailey is CHAOTIC EVIL apparently. Other than that, though, she seems to have fully said her bit, as she walks past the pair to visit the skewbald Fearless, showering the stud with treats and pettings with obnoxiously coo-y babytalk. Because she's bipolar or something. Or maybe she just likes runners more than she likes people. (Way possible.)

"Look, not to be rude," for a change, "but it's the Southern Weyr stables and it's nearly dark. What do you think're the odds that someone really important's likely to walk through that door anytime soon?" Alyei looks toward the open doorway, all filled with sunset light - while the mare takes this timely moment to have a dump on the floor, the ploploplop of horse poop really helping drive home the herder's point. "Anyways, sorry I was rude to you." Kinda sorry. But only 'cause the horses seem to like Bailey enough, so she can't be all bad.

Exasperated, "I don't know, a weyrwoman doesn't count as someone important?" Bailey gives a look over her shoulder, but it's mostly-amused. "And if you think that night-time means there's less likelihood of someone stumbling in here," her tone turns exceptionally dry, "You haven't lived in a weyr very long." Bai rubs at the velveteen nose of Fearless, tickling the little jab of white he has - a tiny little snip - and glances up. "Apology accepted." Because apparently Bai doesn't like being her day-job at night. Or something.

"A weyrwoman who comes in with a bag full of apples is supposed to count? You can't have it both ways, have people treat you like it's perfectly normal for you to be here and still treat you like it's a special treat." Alyei steps back to survey the work she's done on the mare, head tilted while she contemplates the silvery sheen. "I haven't, but I've spent a lot of time in stables. So thanks for the pro-tips and all, but I got it." There's something about girls and horses, isn't there? While Bailey's back there having her way with Fearless, Ali lets the roan take a few nips of her fingers before leading her into the stall with a promise of a nice handful of grain for the lovely lady, gooooood girl.

"Of course we count," Bailey replies, a little indignant. And then, a little more laconic, as if something just occured to her — "You better watch your mouth if you're ever around Lendai." Because THAT bitch is WAY crazy. She doesn't seem to even acknowledge anything after that first question, though, zoning out the apprentice in lieu of bestowing many pets upon Fearless. She'll be here a while and then she'll fade away, to go wreck havoc somewhere else. Maybe with less apples, though.

Alyei probably says more snide stuff, but she's decided to keep it mostly under her breath now. So maybe she learned something. Maybe.

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