Who

Chalelle, Thierry

What

As a candidacy lesson option, Thierry is assigned to a Herder to get some runner training. Chalelle only has one brand of teaching: hands-on.

When

It is noon of the sixteenth day of the third month of the first turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Pens, Igen Weyr

OOC Date

 

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Pens

Here thar be pens, in a variety of shapes and sizes fit for all manner of beastie. The largest pens are those housing plump herdbeast for human or draconic consumption. A few of the smaller pens are unoccupied, though there are remnants of their former occupants still evident on ground and fence. The actual pens themselves are made of wood, stick, nail and twine. It's a slap-shod sort of place, kept together by dreams and good luck to hold fast against the winds. In each pen there are troughs for feed and water, and they appear again by the stableside.

It is the sixteenth day of Spring and 52 degrees. It is a bright, sunny day.


The pens are quiet enough at this time of day, free of dragons and relatively devoid of people, too, given that the lunch hour is just beginning. With the sun beating down overhead, it's actually pleasant enough to be out and about around the beasts, if the smell doesn't bother you; and it wouldn't seem to bother Thierry in the slightest as he leans up against one fence, watching the herdbeasts on the other side with a thoughtful expression.

Such a sunny, calm day is also perfect for moving around livestock, which is why Chalelle probably comes into view riding one of the stocky, scrawny runner breeds seen so often in this climate. The one she's riding is a palomino mare in fairly good condition, but she is also leading a grey gelding who has seen better days and is at least a few Turns past his prime. Both runners are saddled in general working tack that has been well cared for. Chalelle slides from her saddle as she nears the bit of fence where Thierry is standing. "Are you my candidate for the day?" she calls over, staring at him with open curiosity. "Did they tell you what you're going to be doing?" she adds a moment later, already assuming he's the one assigned to her.

The sight of Chalelle appearing on runnerback, leading another, makes Thierry frown. He steps up onto the lower rung of the fence, leaning on the top before hopping up to perch, well-balanced, with his feet swinging. "Could be," he replies to the apprentice, shrugging his shoulders as he looks her over. "What's it to ya if I am, huh?"

"You're definitely the one," Chalelle replies in answer. Perhaps her description included "belligerent". She hooks a thumb back toward the grey. "You'll be riding that one. His name is… well. His real name is Grey. But that's stupid. So I call him Dipshit." Her gaze stays focused on Thierry just a second too long before she thinks to add, "My name is Chalelle. I'm going to move the herdbeasts, and you're going to keep up. If you can't keep up, I take the runner, and you walk back to the Weyr. If you do something you shouldn't, I take the runner, and you walk back to the Weyr. Pissing me off is included in that list." Again, she regards him for several awkward seconds. It's just her way. "I'd suggest stretching your legs. When you're ready, mount up." Without waiting, she climbs back up to the back of the palomino and heads toward the herd at the far end of the pens to begin gathering them.

"Pft. May as well just pack the fuck up now and walk back to the Weyr, huh?" Thierry rolls his eyes as he swings his legs over the fence, landing nimbly in the pen. "Oi, long-face." Grey, presumedly, not Chalelle, as he walks up to the old runner and holds a hand out towards him. "Don't have no clue about damned runners, Herder-girl." Thi looks up at her, shrugging. "Not exactly something we got /bags/ of in the bazaar… 'cept, haha, we /do/ have bags /of/ runner. Runner/hide/."

Chalelle is already over there. Near the herdbeasts. Probably a good thing as she's too far away to hear any mutterings over the sounds of the herd, though she does glance toward Thierry a couple times to see if he's on the runner yet. Eventually, the milling beasts are more or less grouped, and she begins slowly moving them toward the gate, where another Herder waits on his own bay, a far nicer looking runner than either of their own. With the livestock on the move, Chalelle swings back toward Thierry and slows her runner to a halt. "So. All stretched and stuff?"

The real answer to that should be no, but Thierry shrugs as if he has. He reaches up to stroke his runner's nose, grabbing the reins to look at Chalelle. "I don't need none've this runner bullshit," he says, looking up at her on her runner. "I've ridden a dragon. Learning a damn runner's not gonna help me none."

"Not my problem," Chalelle responds, with the first note of genuine impatience entering her tone. She makes her own runner sidestep to make room for Thierry so he can show her just how little he needs to know about runners. Luckily for all involved, she keeps her judgements to herself and leads the candidate toward the gate. She's good enough to answer questions, and she might even volunteer a tip or two now and then, but with the candidate's purported abilities, she's probably going to let him stew in his own sore muscles before the task is through. The only saving grace is they'll be moving slowly, and only to the nearest grazing area and back. They'll likely move even more slowly toward the end. Prescription: a hot bath followed by Pern's equivalent of Tiger Balm.

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