==== February 14, 2014
==== Terrian, Thierry
==== Two guard recruits get to know each other. They talk home, politics, and everything in between.

Who Terrian, Thierry
What Two guard recruits get to know each other. They talk home, politics, and everything in between.
When It is early morning of the twentieth day of the first month of the first turn of the 12th pass.
Where Igen Guardhouse

terrian_default.jpg thierry%2013.jpg

Ancient, half-crumbling, and more than a little pathetic: Igen Weyr's guardhouse is a weathered thing, one to which little enough love has been shown. Theoretically a two-story building, the staircase into the upper quarters has long since rotted away to collapse, and a creaky ladder leads up into what once were barracks, but now serve as storage for miscellaneous and half-forgotten equipment and assorted rubbish. The downstairs has faired little better: trestle tables serve as both crude desks and cruder staging areas, while the small administrative office reeks more of booze than paperwork. Only the brig is halfway well-maintained, though it's still a pathetic thing: cramped and unsanitary, with a single dingy cot and dusty latticed window.

It's early enough in the day that even though Rukbat has risen, there's still a chilly nighttime bite to the air of the bazaar, and everything is dewy-damp - as if the bitterly cold night has washed away the bazaar's sins, or something like that. Paying next to no attention to such poetic comparisons is Thierry, who's got a spring and swagger in his jaunty step as he comes to report in for the early shift; he's uniform-clad and relatively neat-looking, with the scent of smoke from his ubiquitous tokes lingering in the air behind him as he swaggers on through the broken-down guardhouse to drop into an empty chair, where he can kick his feet up onto the trestle in front of him.

Hair still damp from an early morning bath, Terrian enters the guard house quietly. His uniform is neat enough, though it lacks crispness. All in all he looks completly at-ease in the confines of the house. Unlike Terrian's swagger his footsteps are slow and precise enough to take him exactly to the centre of the room before he stops, and rests his eyes on his fellow guard recruit. "You'd be Thierry, aye?" His tone is low and slow as he considers the young man.

Although he's clocked Terrian's entrance and approach, Thierry doesn't really pay much attention to his fellow recruit until he's up close to him. He looks up from where he was doing nothing more exciting than looking at the toes of his boots, and nods in response to the question. "Yeah." His brows raise in curiosity, looking his fellow guard recruit over. "And you?"

Terrian allow his eyes to wander across the whole of the young man, as if memorizing if he might need to lock the young man up again at some point. "Terrian. So. You likin' the view from this side more?" He spreads his feet just slightly, while his arms fold behind him- the stance of someone read to move in an instant… thought he slowness of his tone might continue to suggest he would really rather do no such thing.

It takes a moment for Thierry to realise the meaning of Terrian's question, but when he does, he laughs - a short, sharp bark of a laugh. "Ahaha. Yeah. Sure. Sucks like shit in summer being stuck in that hole." He jerks his thumb to the brig, smirking as he then steeples his fingers over his chest. "Terrian. I… reckon I saw you while I was in there. Did you bring me that slop this place calls food?"

Terrian's shoulders roll slightly, shrugging off Thierry's inquiry about the bringing of slop. "Ladies are crazy, specially them what's got a hint of power. Never can tell which way they'll be blowin'." Is he sympathizing with the teenage conscript, or just making conversation. "Least they brought you food. Ain't never seen no joint as bad run as this."

"I was in over a seven. If they hadn't brought me food, I would've eaten one of you." Theirry goes back to steepling his fingers, sizing Terrian up as he talks to him. "Wouldn't know about anywhere being worse… I've never gone on a guardhouse tour." He reaches out to scratch his knee, frowning thoughtfully at his colleague as he does. "You've been to others?"

"Proly could've gotten out easy enough, figure with the guard on duty drunk half the time." Terrian reaches up one heavily booted foot and if Thierry doesn't move, will tap it against his legs upon the chair. "Shove over kid."

Shove over he does! Thierry drops his feet to the floor to shift along a foot or so, before taking up a similar position. "Yeah, but if I /had/," and he holds a finger up at Terrian, telling him that what he's about to say is /important/, "that Oldtimey bitch would've sent me packing to the Western Isles, and I didn't quite fancy leaving home yet." He digs in his pocket for a toke, which he first offers to Terrian along with the lighting gear. "Plenty more where that came from," he assures. "What'd you do to end up in here, anyway?"

The suddenly vacated chair is taken over by Terrian. Though his booted feet do not take over the nearest furniture, he does strech them out before him as he leans back in the chair. "Provided we caught you of course. You think she would've taken to the street to be findin' you?" This seems to park some kind of amusement in the former caravan guard, his droll tone continuing to wind him his lips slowly. Terrian reaches out for the toke, though he leaves the lighting gear alone. Instead he tucks it behind his ear, perhaps saving it for later. "Volunteered. Figured death fallin' from the sky was a good sign that my travelin' days were over. Stood guard for caravans since I was younger than you."

Thierry sets about lighting his own toke, drawing long and hard on it as he listens to and watches Terrian. "Wouldn't've been that hard to find me, given who my family are." He shrugs, tilting back his head to exhale a plume of smoke into the air above him. "People actually volunteer to do this shit?" He snorts, flicking ash onto the floor before taking another drag. "Though y'know, it's not as bad as it seems. I'll probably pick up more now in on-the-side shit," he clicks his tongue and winks, "than I ever did working for the ring." His non-toke holding hand gets shoved into his trouser pocket. "Y'mean like, moving caravans? The ones that travel around and stuff?"

"Your family would've ratted you out?" This also seems to amuse Terrian as a slight smirk settles upon his lips. "Guess you ex-traders around here lost all've what made you worth s*it." Not one to fidget Terrian just sits there, lets outstretched and apparently relaxed as he fixes Thierry with that smirk. "Travelin' aye. Mayhap'll go back. Once them riders get their story straight on if thread is comin' or not."

"Sersangs," might Terrian recognise the name? "have been in the bazaar for longer than most of these thread-fearing bastards. Haven't you been to the ring?" It's quite an established operation that suggests some degree of longevity. "Got some cousins who were out on the road, somewhere more north than here. Dunno where they ended up, though. Maybe they heard about thread coming back and staked a claim somewhere stony?" He shrugs - it would seem he doesn't really care. "They say thread fell Keroon-way. You been there before?"

"Been around most parts near here 'n out a bit further. Traders ain't got no love for them what ain't their own." One of those resting hands rises to gesture vaguely in the general direction of everwhere. "Jumped around a bit. Give them traders credit, they got balls to be headin' out in all they face. Better to be free then tied down, aye?" As to his question about the ring, "Ain't got much use for bein' swindled."

Thierry shrugs. "Eh, I've never met them." Which means his cousins aren't immediately important to his life, and therefore don't matter. "It's hard to rig a 'snake fight, y'know. You've got less chance of being swindled by my folk that you have getting done over on the street… though a word from the wise, you might wanna keep your mark pouch tied to your belt." Thi winks across at Terrian, miming someone filching said item. "What's it like, out there?" A tilt of his chin gestures to places beyond the bazaar - beyond the Weyr, even.

"With the guard bein' a damn shame here I figure you got to watch your back. Ain't got no problem with that." Those shoulders are shrugged again. "Some've them what seem to give a damn've said thefts have been risin' of late. Somethin' to do with holdless takin' over."

"I know my fair share of who's taking what in the bazaar - you can't give /all/ the credit to the holdless." There's pride in Thierry's tone as he says it; he may be stuck in a the guards, but he's still loyal to his boys. He flicks his spent toke across the room, where it shatters in a shower of sparks against the wall. "Holdless are crowding the place up, though. 'S'alright if they /work/, but if they're just sitting on their arses…" He shrugs. "You tried that waffle stand one set up? Sorta near the Pit?"

"Nah. Been to The Pit though. Different." Whatever Terrian's real opinion of the bazaar stays hidden behind the smallest of smiles and relaxed stance. "Still sniffin' around for what's worth marks and what ain't. Heard some whispers them riders are thinkin' of tryin' to clear them out. Any truth to them?"

Thierry shrugs. "Honestly? I don't give a shit what the riders do, so long's it doesn't mess with /my/ life. They've meddled enough sticking me in here, y'know? It's none of their business, sticking their noses into bazaar life…" Thierry snorts, turning his head to spit disdainfully onto the floor. "Though, that said…" He scrubs knuckles across his stubbled jaw as a smirk grows on his lips. "I bumped into the Weyrsecond yesterday. He bought me a night at Rosie's."

Terrian eyes the spittle on the floor, moving his feet just slightly away from it as if it might jump onto his already dust covered boots. "Now Rosie's I know. Got some pretty lasses there. Though, you know them Zingari Caravan? Got a lass what can toss a knife anywhere she puts an eye. That is somethin' to be gettin' around with."

"I know /of/ the Zingari, though I don't know any of them. Didn't they get kicked outta the caverns by that Oldtimey goldie bovie bitch who banged me up in here?" Thierry drops his feet to the floor, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, so he can lower his voice as he continues speaking. "What's your stance, anyway? Oldtimers? Weyr shit? What's your view?"

"The goldrider seems upset that they'd co-opted those caverns what have no one in them." The hint of the smirk has melted back into a relaxed no-expression, his mouth sitting almost perfectly straight and those expressive eyebrows of his curved simply. Thierry's sudden movement doesn't phase him at all. A gentle shrug as he answers slowly, "Ain't got none. Figure I ain't go no friend here yet. Better to stay outa the crazy till I know where to lay my feet." Terrian is Perneese Switzerland man.

That neutral viewpoint intrigues Thierry, who thoughtfully pinches his chin between his thumb and forefinger. "You don't wanna be in with them Oldtimers. Bunch of troublesome bastards, they are - the women, that is. They're the worst. No respect at /all/… and those trousers? The huggy-leathers what show all them curves? They're showing it all off but they don't like you haggling for it, the devious bitches."

"Ain't in with no one, aye?" Terrian reminds the former brig occupant. The toke is extracted from where it sits above his ear to spin it very slowly between his fingers. "Figure I ain't got much reason to be spendin' time with them. Though, that apprentice vintner in the wineshop said somethin' about a weyrwoman- not the one what tossed you on your ass."

"There's two." Thierry holds up as many fingers, in case Terrian might be confused by the number. "There's that Tuli one, the poof-haired bovine who forced me into this," that would be his uniform, as he indicates with his hand, "and there's the senior one. Sad-something. Sad…-ya? Sad-whatever. Oldtimer, too. They killed off /our/ gold."

"Your gold?" Terrian frowns slightly, the cogs in his head turning slowly as the toke in his hand. "From what has been whispered that last goldrider was tryin' to clean things up around here. Were people lyin?"

Thierry shakes his head. "No, not /that/ one - that bitch got what was coming after she came on in here and screwed us around." He waves his hand dismissively. "That one wasn't Igen anyway, she was… she came from somewhere else. /Our/ gold was that one who died, but her rider stayed. That Oldtimer Weyrwoman's dragon took her out, up there." He points up to the sky.

"Ah…. ain't heard nothin' about another one. But. New." Terrian says one more time, as if Theirry might be a bit slow to realize that Terrian is totally ambivalent to any of the Bazaar's conflicts with the weyr. "Got no stake in weyrwoman. They live and die like the rest've us. Probably."

"So long as they don't come messing with what we do, it all works out." Thierry levels his hand, miming smoothing over a surface. "They live their side, we live our side, we're all happy. Thread might cock that up a bit, but mebbe that freak fall that's meant to have happened in Keroon's all we'll get? Then maybe them Oldtimer's'll jump off somewhere where they're actually /wanted/."

That makes Terrian smile. "So. Tell me more about this ring've yours. Got a regular set of patsys what you skin? Lookin' to be seein' more've what the Bazaar's got to offer." The toke finally stops spinning as Terrian pats it back behind his ear again.

Ah, the ring. Thierry leans back in his chair to begin on /that/ one, crossing his legs at the ankles and lounging back, lazily. "Grandad opened the ring. Da's running it now, with my brothers. I used to tout around the bazaar - you might've seen us? With the mobile ring?" He draws out a ring in the air. "There's the regulars and all, but so long's they're buying plenty of tokens up front they're left alone. It's the others you've gotta milk, the unfamiliar faces." His fingers drum on his thigh, and he smirks. "I grew up pinching purses from pockets. The crowd's so thick you'd never notice anything's missing until you go to buy your next token set."

"Perfect guard material then." The droll peeks its way again into Terrian's rough voice. "You serious gonna pinch them what you use to work with?" The uptick of his eyebrow, and the general settling of his arms across his chest seems to suggest that he seriously doubts it. "Any've them got a problem with you bein' on the right side've things?"

Thierry's eyebrow quirks up questioningly in response to the questions posed to him. "What're they gonna do that everyone else isn't already doing? There's not half a brain between them, not since they chased Reilan out." He shakes his head, and shrugs. "They didn't like it. Easy to understand. Da's had the worst problem with it, but even he can see the potential perks… and it's not like it's the /right/ side. It's a /joke/. This whole sharding place is a joke. I mean, look at the /state/ of it. /And/ we'd all turn for the sake of a bob or two."

"Mayhap." Terrian says, maintaining his utter neutrality in all matters. The guard who has been taking Terrian around has entered, so Terrian pulls himself to his feet and stands. "Mayhap I'll be seein' you around. Show me this ring've yours." Thumbs hook in his belt loops as he ambles over to that guard to follow him right back out of the main room.

"Yeah," Thierry replies, scratching at his nose and nodding. "Yeah, I'll take you one night. Get your shit together to barter some tokens from my brothers though, yeah?" Showing now signs of getting up himself, Thi gives his fellow recruit one of the sloppiest salutes ever seen on Pern, accompanied by a friendly wink. "See you around, Terr." As he watches the other leave, he pulls another toke from his pocket, sparking it up and kicking back with his feet on the table once more.

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