Nasrin, Tzajal, Ramita


Something for everyone to look at in the stables!


It is evening of the first day of the fifth month of the fourteenth turn of the 12th pass.



OOC Date 27 Jun 2018 04:00


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"You got to bribe them with more than that…"



The powerful odor of hot runner lies heavy in the air here. Even the relative open of the stable design, with roomy stalls and lofty arches - incongruously, this must be one of the best designed buildings in the entire Weyr - cannot altogether dispel the stink of beast and the proceeds of such: leather and manure. The stables serve for the Weyr's population of runners, and house a small menagerie of other creatures. Avians, caprines and porcines all have their homes here, and all add to the earthy feel of the place.

Even if Igen's not in its hottest days of the turn yet, does anybody really want to be outside working during the hottest parts of the day? Given that, it's probably not surprising that the stables have been bustling this evening as runner owners take advantage of the cooler weather to exercise their beasts or are coming back in from whatever the day's duties had taken them. At one of the stalls closer to the stables entrance, Ramita is currently leaning halfway over the stall door with arm outstretched and making a very undignified clucking sound as she tries to beckon the runner closer. The mare seems a bit unsure at the moment seeing as she already has a face full of oats.

It's certainly been a busy day for one man, but what's drawn Tzajal to the stables this time isn't any emergency or critical case. No, he is merely here to check up on some of his previous work, as well as do some brief training with his own runner stallion. Iapetus looks to be from a well bred line, white-metallic sheen coat freshly brushed down to remove the worst of the dust from the outer paddocks. Tzajal leads the runner to a stall that is more or less removed from the rest… or at least has a few empty ones around it. With most of his focus on seeing to the runner settled, he does cast a glance sidelong and spots a familiar face in Ramita. "You got to bribe them with more than that…" he calls out, amused.

"No thank you, I've got it," another Steen to be found within the Weyr stables (surely that's a bingo win somewhere) strikes forward with purpose to the section where the caprines are kept, refusing an apprentice's aid once entering. A small bag of salt is in hand, just a knuckle-sized pouch, but one the junior fiddles with to stretch it open. "It's hard to bribe them when they already have what they want, isn't it Ramita?" Surprised to see her kin within, the woman with her hair in a fishtail braid is trying not to stare. But then again, turn about is fair play.

Ramita wasn't completely trying to bribe a runner empty handed. At the sound of not one, but two voices, the vintner straightens up and the sugar cube gets tossed back into one of the pockets of her dress. "What luck ended me up with the one runner without a taste for sugar? Guess I need to load up on redfruits the next time I come." She spreads her hands out helplessly to both herder and weyrwoman.

"Woah now…" Tzajal's comment is meant for neither woman, but rather the runner before him. No doubt Iapetus has decided to act out a bit, though his handler is savvy enough to catch him at it before it escalates. Correction is swift, if left to mostly muttered comments and stern words before the Herder is stepping out of the stall and securing it shut. "Stubbornness can play into it too," he adds to Nasrin's earlier comment, while dipping his head respectfully to her. "Weyrwoman." he murmurs, before his gaze darts back to Ramita. "She's a fickle thing, that girl. At least that's what I've heard."

Nasrin's captive audience are two silky-haired adult caprines with their twins, which would have been a triplets had the weakest survived. The adult female jumps on the weyrwoman, resting both hooves and their prints on Nasrin's maroon blouse mid-rib. The mineral salts she presents are eaten as if they were glass, loose-lipped and lots of tongue swatting. The male, reeking of his own urine, rubs against his mistress and Nasrin grimaces with her teeth and all. "We could trade salt for sweet…" without really knowing if the mare will even go for salt, "these four treat it like the time I made three-beet soup, which is to say a slight abomination," her eyebrows playfully lift in recalling that recipe fail. "Hullo, Yafir," some due petting for the male twin, half-grown and white like some forebear. "That one's not new, is it?" She asks Tzajal of Iapetus.

With another runner acting up, the sandy gold mare will at least raise her head from her feed bucket to poke it over the gate with a wicker and Ramita is swift enough to raise a hand to pat the mare on her nose now that it's accessible. "Fickle is one word for it. Capricious could also be fitting if it wasn't taken by some others…" She nods her head slightly towards the actual caprines busy showing probably why that word originated. "Nasrin, why in Farnath's name are you keeping goats?"

"Why not?" Tzajal's just going to interject with his own humoured smirk for Ramita's question. Chuckling, he'll observe the antics of the caprines towards the young goldrider. "Doubtful you could draw a runner's attention with salt…" But he doesn't sound nearly as confident on that. He's making a final check of the stall housing the young runner to be sure all is as it should be, when Nasrin's question has him quirking a brow and turning to face her again. Before he can answer, however, Iapetus makes with a rather loud wicker-call of his own to the mare. "… as I was going to say," Tzajal resumes with a sidelong (playful) glare to the stallion. "No, he's not. He belongs to me… I'd just had him out on the line for a bit. Working on him still, but hoping to breed him this season if I can get the right tempered mare."

The desert does have the inclination for breeding mercurial and high-spirited personae. As the female goat paws for either attention or better treats, Nasrin nudges her down and tries to avoid the intact male and his stinkfest. "They have that in spades, though these are better with people than the half-wild ones of the Standing Stones." The same Kczyslawborth dines on with great relish. "Well," the junior segues, blending the last consonants liberally, "after visiting Lord Szirad, he gifted me with a pair from his own herdstock. To touch the fiber from his holding is like woven clouds. But after nine months," dumping the contents of the small pouch into the bottom of the feed trough, "I can't be a shepherdess, so day after next these are headed to a cothold near Angaste Peak where they can I hope thrive." With some remorse, she runs her hand along the female twin's black-brushed spine. "He's beautiful." She compliments with some wistfulness to Tzajal. "I didn't know you liked runners, Ramita. Do you ride often?"

Ramita's eyes flicker briefly between the herder and the caprines and back as if that question doesn't actually need answering. Isn't it obvious? This particular Steen woman is going to make sure to stay even further away from that male stinkfest if she has any say in the matter. Although the goldrider's explanation of the white elephant goat gift, she gives a nod. "Of course. And it would have been unbecoming to reject such a generous gift." As soon as her nose isn't being pet, Sandy gives one more neigh towards her fellow runner before she turns to rattling what's left of her feedbucket. And the water bucket. Splashing out a good bit of the contents of both, which causes Ramita to wrinkle her brow a bit. Someone's going to have to clean that up. Probably. "I ride occasionally. Quicker than a wagon and not everything can be bought in the bazaar." Although a good deal can! The vintner does give a careful once over of the stallion. "And what sort of temper would that be?"

"I'd always wondered if there was a story behind how the Weyr ended up with semi-feral herds of caprines." Tzajal idly muses, only to look mildly surprised. "That's a rather generous gift from Lord Szirad!" he neutrally remarks to Nasrin, as to the origins of the caprines; as to where they'll be headed, he seems to have no comment save for a faint smile. That same smile changes to something more of pride and sheepishness as he glances back at the white stallion. "He definitely is, but he's a handful." Ramita has nothing to worry about! There are plenty of stablehands and idle Apprentices to help with that task. Her question has Tzajal answering easily, "Anything that isn't too fiery or similar to his."

Ramita's silence and tell-tale dance of the eyes make Nasrin's mouth ends curl like a stem held up to flame. Ahhh, cousin. Lest the verbally unanswered question nurture any suspicion, she carries on. "In his defense, he didn't smell like… that when I got him." Maturity makes for a fragrant male goat. "But I've learned much in their care, even helping Tvola dry her triplets off." As Sandy indulges in messhood within her stall, Nasrin grins at the runner's particular mannerisms. "I know some people who eat like that. But in seriousness, I would ride with you someday, if you wanted the company." Maybe not the company she'd want most though *coughCOUGH*. "Or Journeyman Tzajal could perhaps share some of his wisdom of technique, I can teach nothing to Ramita but how to mostly stay vertical in the saddle." Ramita, you're welcome. "Sun and shade, I nearly forgot the Smithcraft luncheon is soon and I smell like a breeding buck. So long, you both!" Squeezing through the gate to not have the caprines follow her, Nasrin actually runs in public.

"Perhaps, as long as you're riding a runner and not Rajakhelath. As delightful as she surely is, good luck convincing any runner that!" Ramita will give a smile and a nod as she accepts her cousin's offer for a future ride, as long as she'll reasonable be able to keep her neck that is. She'll also side step out of the way once an apprentice comes through to see to the mess Sandy made. At least he's prompt. As for Tzajal's quest for the right partner for his stallion, she has a wry grin for that. "Good luck finding a docile mare here." Igen, home to the hottest of tempers. Even the animals know that. And seeing as Nasrin's already making her exit, the vinter will give a small nod of farewell before she turns and departs herself, at a much more sedate pace.

Tzajal's nose wrinkles a bit, perhaps in sympathy and understanding to Nasrin's comment on the particular… odour of caprine. "… yeah, that's one of the downsides to having a breeding buck." His knowledge of caprines probably isn't as vast as some here in Igen, but he knows enough. Any implication of offering lessons to Ramita go right over his head; he's too busy discussing the potential pairing of runners to even clue in. "Hey, if I could find a runner like Iapetus, there's bound to be the right mare. Eventually…" So he'll probably be haunting the auction yards in the near future, when the new stock are brought in! Oh, the joys of spring. He'll lift his hand in a farewell wave to both women, though he doesn't exit the stables quite yet. He'll linger to see to a few more things and then be on his way.

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