Selaine, Sienna, Veresch, W'rin


A morning run goes awry as W'rin makes his opinion known on the girls' fitness. Sienna's presence does not sweeten him much.


It is the seventy-third day of Spring and 60 degrees.


Lake Shore, Igen Weyr

OOC Date


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Lake Shore

Sprawled out beyond the Weyr proper's hustling activity and ambling roads, the cool, blue paradise of the Weyr lake promises escape from the oppressive hammer of Igen summer's cruel climes; the asymmetrical, sandy white shores hook delicately around the deceptively still waters running deep and sure, greedy peninsulas reaching white fingers stretching in crooked lines towards its center. A sturdy shack, weather-beaten and brown as cured leather, resides in isolated splendor upon one such finger, screened shelving offering a variety of brushes and fragrant oils housed in colorful tureens. Out beyond a small and dusty paddock ringed by a white fence, a long rocky pier stabs out into the lake, providing a panoramic view of the Weyr itself, while the southern shores provide varied shrubs and grassed for the massed herds in their pens.

The day is sunny, the air crisp, the perfect temperature where one isn't quite sure whether to wear a sweater or not. And as the way to early to be up morning draws into when most people are rubbing their eyes and stretching the weyrleader makes a final turn around the edge of the lake, his daily run breaking into a walk and finally stops. W'rin left on the shore, the towel that was flipped over his shoulder is pressed against his face to dab away the stubborn sweat, as his breath slowly returns to normal.

It's still amazing, even after all Veresch's time at the Weyr, how many people choose to greet the sun with a bracing trot around the lake. It's enough execise to make her grimace from her spot near the pier where she's reluctantly clasping boots tight and making sure her own exercise clothes are tied down correctly — looking none too happy about the prospect of two laps around the lake. One hand lifts hesitantly to W'rin, sensing perhaps the postponement of punishment if not the cancellation of it. "Weyrleader," she greets politely, studying him curiously.

The early morning always has the best air and always the most peaceful time of day. At least, to a particular young lady's mind. Another figure could be seen approaching the lake shore, cloak wrapped around her body to protect against the morning chill. Her intention, however, was defnitely not to go for a morning run. Selaine had always been an early riser and since having arrived at Igen Weyr, had woken up very early every day. Her favorite new spot just so happened to be the lake. Upon getting closer to the shore, she spots a familiar figure on the pier. "Good morning, Veresch." and to the other figure, she recognized only through another pointing him out to her at some point from afar. "Good morning, Weyrleader." she inclines her head towards the older man, knowing quite well he probably won't know who she is.

The towel is slowly pulled back from his bowed head as W'rin's eyes glance upward to see who is greeting him. The raised hand is met with a lifted brow and the words with only a grunt. The verbose conversation pauses as he flushes out droplets of sweat from his cropped hair with a hand. They leap away from the attack and anyone who is too close will have intimate knowledge of the excreted fluids of the weyrleader's work out. Weyrleader pheromones, the breakfast of champions? And then another greeting, the ever socially awkward mammoth shifts his boot soles deeper into the sand. "Cold?" It starts off as a statement about the weather, the end rising upward as he tacks a question mark on the end. "Going for a run ladies? It's important to be in shape. Never know when you're going to have to help with firestone." The mind only has one track, and it only goes in one direction.

GROSS. Veresch, glad that she's seated far enough away to escape the Tears Of The Gods, waits for a moment, just in case he's planning on spraying closer. Then, carefully, she sneaks the last belt tight around her waist. "Yes, sir. Kyara's instituted double-daily runs." The girl might need them too, for all that she's a tad taller, there's a woeful lack of muscle tone so far. "At least I am… Selaine? Are you going to come running with me?" Her expression brightens, and she hops a little up and down on her toes. "And… ah. How heavy is a firestone sack, sir? I've heard they're kind of… you know. Heavy."

Upon view of the older man's post-workout fluids, Selaine gives a slight wrinkle of her nose. Was that a waft of some sort of musky manly, not-very-pleasant scent? Eek. Instead of getting closer to the Weyrleader, her steps take her a little closer to Veresch on the pier. At their inquiries, she gives a slow nod. "It's a bit chilly… but no, not running. Not today, at least." she gives them a slight smile. "I've never been too much of a runner, unfortunately."

The long slender Veresch gets an appraising once over, "I've heard they're heavy too." The man's hefty shoulders lift up in a helpless shrug, "Probably will be for you. But runnings not going to help you throw heavy rocks around." She'd probably get more of a work out lecture but his eyes slide sideways to the one called 'Selaine'. If she's reading the look on his face as unimpressed she's reading it correctly. "We all have our part to play…" His gaze flops between the two more than once as he thinks. "Shall we go try to lift a bag?"

Given that the man looks as if he can lift his dragon, Veresch isn't too surprised that 'heavy' has no real meaning to him. "It takes time to become a runner," she says bracingly to Selaine. "The first time I tried it, I nearly collapsed a quarter of the way around the lake. After a month or so though, I can manage it around once." Two will probably still kill her, ded, RIP. "And yes, please?" she asks, excitement gentling a little into true curiosity. "I've heard there were people that work with some of the wings, fetch and carry for them or something…? Even carrying a 'thrower around on groundcrew's a pain in the shoulder." The details are vague, uncertain. "I could do with a little muscle."

Selaine looks between the two as they talk about how heavy firestone can be. The Weyrleaders reply is… vague. The girl had heard stories but they were merely that, stories. You never know anything until you experience it yourself. Noticing W'rin's expression, Selaine stiffened ever so slightly. She was definitely /not/ trying to impress anyone. And as he said, everyone /did/ have a part to play. Another curious glance is offered to Veresch at her eagerness to try lifting a bag of firestone. "Why not?" is Selaine's reply. Always best to give everything a chance. Even lifting bags of firestones, after all, one never knew when an extra hand might be needed.

"Sucks at first." The bronzerider agrees with Veresch's assessment of running with a nod. "But I like it now. You get use to it, it's calming." Routine. "Normally it falls on the weyrlings to bag and throw," W'rin snorts slightly with a shrug, "But you never know what will happen during a fall. And there is the moving of it, in and out of storage." A brief grin is offered to the female, noticeable only by the slightest white of teeth beneath his facial hair. "Alright then. I'll be back." And at a trot the weyrleader takes off up the sand toward the bowl.

Veresch watches the man trot away, waiting a respectable distance. Then, "At least he's not sweating over us anymore?" It's offered as rueful apology, though the messenger's eyes are too bright to disguise true excitement. "I hear it stinks," she announces happily. "You know, bad enough to throw up from or something. I can't wait!" Given her ridiculous adrenaline-junkie ways, she'd probably go for cliff-diving as well. "Are you fitting in, though? Did you get into trouble for staying out late the other night?"

Selaine also watches as the weyrleader runs off to get a bag… or two, of firestone for them to lift. A soft giggle escapes at Veresch's so-called apology. Someone's definitely energetic for such an early start to their day. Wide eyes look at the other girl upon hearing how much firestone can stink. "/Really/?" Selaine asks, disbelief apparent in her voice. She's definitely not heard that before. At Veresch's inquiry, she nods. "Oh yes. Luckily I only got scolded a little, with me only have arrived recently, I wasn't aware of the curfew. Might not be so lucky if it happens again though." The reply ends a bit wistfully, clearly indicating that she had quite enjoyed her late night trist, however innocent it was.

Whatever conversing happens while the weyrleader is gone, is too vague for him to understand when he returns. The trot slowed only by the bags of stone slung over each shoulder. Show boating? Perhaps a little. And the first bag is dropped from full height to ground with a grunt of exertion, the sand puffing out from beneath it as it lands. "That's the lowest grade, not much ore. So its the heaviest." The second follows after, like he might shot put it into the lake, but instead lets it down with a little less force than the first, "That's the highest grade, mostly ore, less rock." But still heavy enough. "Weyrlings have to build up enough strength to toss these a dragon's length." A finger passes between the two girls, "You two, if you work ground crew would need to be able to toss it up to a mounted weyrling. They'd take it up to the wing. Want to see what you got?"

The messenger stares at the bags as they flop into the ground, eyeing the little corona of dust that forms. She glances at Selaine, then the bags, then the Weyrleader. There's a small swallow. Suddenly, with the prospect of having to sling that around, say, Narloth or Valiuth, isn't all that much fun-filled anymore. "…right," she manages as she steps (wo-)manfully forward, swinging her arms around a little to warm them up. "One bag per person?" she asks finally, and leans down to do her best. The bag's edges are awkward, filled with rocks that crack and crunch nastily against each other, and she struggles to lift it enough to knee level to create enough space to sling her arms around it. Yeah… give her a little time.

Upon the weyrleader's return, Selaine also eyes the man as he drops the heavy bags onto the shore, watching as small dust clouds form around the bags. She, too, glances over at Veresch, giving her a I'm-not-so-sure-about-this look. But they had asked for it. Selaine watches as Veresch bravely attempts at lifting a bag. There's an eyebrow raise from her observer but the other young woman nods and eventually walks up to one of the bags and stares for a moment. Then she attempts to grab the top of the bag, bending just so and attempting to wrap her arm around it. A soft grunt is heard as she unsuccessfully attempts to lift it. "Um… maybe I should have asked first but… what's the best way to do this?" She looks questioningly over to W'rin.

W'rin tries to be patient as he watches the soon to be runner struggle with the bag. First his arms cross over his barreled chest, then he shifts his weight, surpressing a cough. But it can't last, "Thread, woman! Thread doesn't wait!" And as the bag of rocks reaches her knees he smacks a hand against his haired cheek and drags it down, dumbfounded. "I don't think runnings going to help that shit show." The honesty is brutual. "You're goin' to want to start lifting too. Faranth tits, is the whole weyr like this? I'll have to have a talk with Sadaiya…" The last little tirade mumbled beneath his breath as he watches. But then there is a question, and the weyrleader rests his eyes on the other female. "Best way…" The thought trails off, and he stomps up to the bag, his trunk like legs bending, hopefully his tights don't rip, and he wraps one arm around the bag at an angle, tilting it up and digging his other arm under. With the mildest of grunts the stones are free of the ground. "Erm. Like that?" And then he unceremoniously drops the bag again.

Sienna and Kehemath are out for a jog this morning, the greenrider in loose running clothes while Kehemath, strapless, bounds alongside, in front, after, zig-zagging across the beach. The green runs at /least/ twice as far as her rider, and that's good. She needs it. Scenting W'rin from down the beach, Kehemath rumbles and bounds forward, while Sienna pushes into a sprint to finish the lap, slowing to a jog as she approaches and salutes. "Sir," she pants as she stops, hands on her knees to catch her breath. The girls are noted, smiled at, nodded to. "Firestone practice?"

Veresch grunts. It's a noise that's as indelicate as can be, and doesn't grow any more elegant when W'rin shouts at her. Indignation roils, and she finds a reserve of strength somewhere; her hands close on the bag and she hauls the low-grade ore sack up into her arms, then to a tottering hold over her shoulders. "This …" No, can't say shit in front of the Weyrleader. "This stuff is heavy!" She gives a few steps backwards as she tries to balance the bag, then forward, until at last she's achieved some stability and eyes Selaine. Intently. Just in case those tights rip. "Ready?" she grunts out, jaw tight. "Dragonlength." It'll be surprising if she gets an inch. Quick, someone make her angry. She tries to wave to Sienna around the bag, unwilling to risk her precarious position. "Ma…oh sweet Faranth, what's that hideous stench?!"

At the sound of the weyrleader's brutal honesty, Selaine can only wince. As he comes up to the bag, Selaine backs up a bit, giving him some room. She watches carefully at the way the man puts his arms around the bags. Even /he/ makes a sound as he lifts the bag, how was /she/ supposed to be able to do it at all? Her own thoughs are somewhat discouraging. Her concentration only falters slightly at the approach of another rider and her dragon, whose nod is returned. A wrinkle forms between her brows as she watches Veresch successfully (somehow) to lift the bag of firestone. Selaine attemps one more time, placing her arms like W'rin, one arm at a diagonal and the other digging underneath the bag. Unlike Veresch, however, she has no reserve strength and the bag is only lifted fractionally before falling back onto the ground with a small oof! from the girl. The stench reaches her as well and dizziness overwhelms her slightly, making her sway on her feet. "You weren't kidding about the smell…" she mutters to Veresch.

Bag dumped W'rin is free to snap off a smart salute in return to the Sienna, "Assistant Weyrlingmaster, how are you?" Tiny bits of white peek out again from beneath his beard, if only monetarily, at the greenrider, "Eh. We were discussing the importance of being in shape." His head nods to the two females, who assumes were willing and delighted participants in the conversation, "Aye. Toss it then, can you make it as high as Kehemath? If Sienna were up there?" His eyebrows lift just slightly as Selaine fails miserably. The run must have gotten the seratonin going this morning because instead of cursing, he leans back over and hefts it up again, "Okay, how bout we see if you can just hold it once its up. Say to five?" It seems a resonable challenege and so the bag is held out, at least this way she doesn't have to fight gravity as much.

Sienna takes in the scene at a glance, and can make a pretty safe assumption she knows what's going on. Poor girls. She smiles at them as she moves into stretches, keeping muscles from cramping after her run. "Doing fine, sir, and yourself?" Watching the girls struggle brings an understanding look to her eyes, pushing curls away from her face with a hand as she shifts into another stretch. Kehemath, hearing her name, edges over with a soft and curious rumble, beginning to circle the group about ten yards out. Watching.

Veresch picked the low-ore bag for a reason: her nose won out against any fragile loyalty she might feel to Selaine. It's still bad enough, and her eyes pinch shut against the imperative to gag. "How do they not fall out of the sky?" she wonders miserably; even if she hadn't idolized dragons like most of the rest of Pern, she'd be on their side now. They got this in their mouths. That thought cloys into her brain, reaches little feelers into an entirely involuntary part of her brain. "Sheeeells…" It's a thin, watery sound. She crab-scuttles out of Selain's way as W'rin moves to help, and gives Sienna a watery look of sheer misery from the bag nearly against her nose. Her position wiggles, she tries to compensate, and finally she tosses it with all the power she can summon. For a second, a brief, glorious, wonderful second, the bag sails towards the green… only to pitch down in the sand not even three feet away.

Selaine pays little attention to the greenrider, unfamiliar with her as she was. Besides, she's addressing W'rin directly and just observing the two poor girls. Face still scrunched up from the stench, she watches as W'rin lifts it up again and offers it to her, asking her to just /hold/ it for five seconds. Five seconds… ok. She can do this. Her arms reach out to wrap around the bag again, one arm at a diagonal and the other supporting the bottom. Grabbing the bag with a huff, she steps back from W'rin and attempts to keep herself steady. Her legs are shaky and boy is this bag /heavy/. But she counts slowly. 1… Ugh… 2…. Not sure if she can last, there's sweat forming on her forehead already. 3… Almost there… 4… Can seconds go by any slower? 5! And the bag is dropped unceremoniously onto the ground, amazingly with ores still within the confinements of the bag. Selaine leans over, hands on her knees as she breathes heavily from the overexertion. No attention was given to Veresch, distracted as she was by her own attempt with the bag.

Sienna's question is answered with a gruff exhale of air, as he watches Veresch over the top of the bag he's waiting for Selaine to take, "Oh well, shit, at least it went somewhere? Though, if you want to be worth a fuck to the weyr you might want to add lifting to your routine." Somewhere in his little 'motivational' speech the bag was aquired by Selaine, and as she works out the time in her head he just watches. A no-pressure-but seriously-don't-let-me-down face pointed in her direction. As the bag creates a dust cloud in the sand, a heavy hand which doesn't quite know its strength smacks amicably against the girls shoulder, "Fuck. Well I guess there is still hope for the weyr." Teasing? Perhaps. "You might want to join your friend though." A stocky finger jabs towards Veresch once again.

Sienna watches Veresch toss the bag towards her green, and she nods. "Not bad for a first try," she says, stretching her arms over her head and arching her back. She watches Selaine's holding and when the bag drops, she grins. "There you go! Do that a few times a day and you'll be amazed at how quickly it gets easy." Kehemath, on the other hand, is a bit confused at having a sack of firestone thrown at her. There's a pause, and an instant after Sienna startles (she knows what's coming), the lithe green is bounding forward, snatching the end of the bag nimbly between her teeth, and bolting away with a delighted warble and a shower of sand. Play time! "Kehemath!"

It's not polite to scowl at the weyrleader. It's not polite to sass the Weyrleader. It's not… it's not… Veresch manages to keep a straight face by only the barest of margins. "Yes, sir," she mutters as she stretches out for the firestone sack again and … it's not there? Her eyes widen with horror as she sees the green snitch it off out of her reach, and whilst her arms might not be worth much her legs still work. "Hey!" she shouts, making tracks after Kehemath. "Hey, give that back! I have to exercise with that!" How's she to know the green'd likely only see it as more zany fun? "Shi…shards! I'll be right back, ma'am, sir, Sel!" She's got a dragon to catch.

Attempting to catch her breath, Selaine is painfully unaware of what's going on around her. The weight of the large hand on her shoulder causes her to stumble slightly, thankfully not falling on her face. She looks up at the weyrleader to give him a wistful smile and a huffed response. "I'll… definitely… keep that.. in mind." she breathes. She looks up at the sound of the other woman's voice calling out to her dragon and then Veresch yelling. The view of the other girl chasing the dragon is an amusing one. Turning her attention back to the weyrleader, she attempts to stand straight up, still breathing somewhat heavily. "Would you mind if… I take my leave now, sir?" A couple deep breaths. "That took quite a bit out of me… I'll definitely practice though." At his reply, she offers him a nod, waving farewell to the other two women, if they happen to notice her departure. Then, she's off to the Kitchens to rest and break her fast.

Is Selaine looking for a dismissal? The weyrleader has completely forgotten about the girl before him. "Bloody dragon!" W'rin's temper is sudden and explosive, "There's a shortage of that fucking stuff!" Spinning on Sienna the anger finds a target, "Get control of that dragon!" The once jovial finger pointing has turned to unhinged wrath, "I expect that you'll return that firestone to storage by the end of the candlemark. And will have talked some damn sense into that green of yours. Oh what the hell is she doing?" Exasperated the man throws his hands up in the air after the running female, glares at Sienna and stomps off back towards the bowl.

Sienna bolts after Kehemath, flashing W'rin a /look/ as she goes. The green takes a few long strides before her rider's mental lashing has her stopping with a sad whine, dropping the bag and stepping back. Another whine, another step back, and she drops her muzzle, body drooping, tail tucking. Sienna slows, gesturing to Veresch. "I'm sorry, go ahead. She's…playful."

Running after the hoppy, playful green isn't something that Veresch expected. She gets a mouthful of sand more than once for her trouble, and whilst a runner she's so easily outpaced that it's not funny. She pulls up short at the shouting going on behind her, and is still scratching granules off her tongue as Kehemath drops the bag. "S'ok," she manages to mutter around the blech-feeling, hesitantly eyeing her. One hand reeeaaaches for the sack, just in case she's about to set off again, and she gathers it to her in a grunt. "Pretty," she manages to get out, nose wrinkling. "She's really pretty… and different, you know?" And strong, to carry that much weight in her mouth.

Kehemath is contrite, the picture of a puppy who just got squirted with a waterbottle. Whiiiiine. She stays still, watching Veresch. Sienna jogs up beside the girl with a huff of breath, pushing sweaty curls out of her face. "Sorry about that," she mutters. "She thought you wanted to play…" She glances at her contrite dragon, and can't help but smirk a bit. "Knock it off, you're fine." Twitch, goes Kehemath's tail. "And thanks. Again, I'm sorry. I'm Sienna, I…don't know if we've met or not. That's Kehemath."

Veresch gets nailed right in the heart by that whine, and for a second her lower lip quivers with. "If it were up to me…" she begins to apologise; Sienna's presence startles her, almost, and she almost drops the heavy sack on her foot. "I'm Veresch," she explains, trying to shift the sack to get it back up on her shoulder. "Pleased to meet you, Sienna, Kehemath. I.. um, could you help me get this on my shoulder? I'll carry it to stores, but I'll have to come back for the other one."

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