Who

Veresch, Threvobek

What

The two are out on business but rendezvous and talk without trading any barbs. Resh also meets a new firelizard.

When

It is evening of the thirteenth day of the fourth month of the second turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Weyr Plateau

OOC Date

 

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Weyr Plateau

A stripe of packed earth designates the central route connecting the Weyr to prominent geographical and urban points outside of the walled complex. Pale knobby rocks line the roadsides, cast there by hand and foot with purpose in mind, lining the periphery in grades of pebbles to boulders. This site is under constant incursion from wind-blown sand and if not regularly maintained the road would eventually be interred. Silt becomes more prominent underfoot further east where the lake lies.


The stretch of a lonely road has its finish at the Weyr and while they don't look world-weary they have accumulated travel dust. Threvobek drives a small delivery cart pulled by a steer the size of a young dragon. And probably superior in temperament. Danger is overstated, sweep riders have shown themselves in the sky kilometers back and they now are practically at the Weyr's door step. Trousers lead under a robe of native design, a combination of cultures taking on night's chill. The wide-brimmed hat was ditched many dunes ago now that only moonlight can singe his hide. The cart with a slight squeak in one wheel, he'll get that fixed, rambles gently onward to Home.

"Well now," a voice comes from the side, and a slim figure arrives just as travel-stained as he. Veresch, clad in the thin layers of a runner, with narrow shoes on her feet and a look of weariness on her face. There's a shiver in her frame at least, a tremor that's as much cold as exertion, as she paces slowly forward to cool off and not completely stiffen up. "You're back." Pause. So is she, evidently. Her nose wrinkles at the smell of steer, and she steps sideways to let the cart through, chin held high.

Activity outside at night when work can be conducted away from a blazing sun used to be commonplace. Now there are the second guesses of brigands and cut-purses to worry over. The particular character also on the road doesn't have the right comportment for that. Under the light of one moon is Veresch. The song continuously sung or hummed most of the way dies from his lips as they slip into a disarming grin. "If I woulda known you were staging a welcome committee I'd'v hastened." Searching, "where's the wine and harper?" Herdbeast is brought to a stop, big eyes dark and kindly. They always are, it's the horns who have a different personality.

The eyes are especially bad; Veresch can feel them looking at her, with an alien, bovine kind of intelligence behind it. Definitely not a friend. "You have won the fortune of a lucky arrival," Veresch says lightly as she pads closer, away from the horns and to the traces that connect it to the cart. From thence the ill beast is pointed away from her, and she can look up at the character on the little cart. "Don't tell me this is to be part of it," she murmurs without much hope of rescue. "I am newly returned from a shortish run." It's calmly stated, but there's a glimmer of returning strength and happiness. "Even if it was with my fair constantly in the air watching for danger."

It isn't obvious at first but Threvobek catches onto the hesitance, maybe fear, wedged between girl and herdbeast. As the reins relax in his hands the young man's shoulders climb closer to his ears. "We'll have a solid runner pulling a similar cart and we'll hitch the ox in the back. If speed's required in a hurry we can cut him free and take the runner." He's got it all planned out. "What?" Climbing down from the cart carrying only a firelizard in cargo and coming close to Resh. "You don't like animals?" He lodges the question as a tease but you'll have to work to hear it.

From the twitch of Veresch's nose it's not clear whether she's moving away because she senses some kind of peril, or whether she's not in the mood to be that close to a man, or even whether she just think the road dirt is too pungent. "I've never made any bones of it, I don't like them. Strange, they are, always looking and thinking and doing that… that sound." Mooing or lowing presumably. Her eyes flick to the little brown. "But this, who is this?" Her acquired love of little things prompts her to smile and reach down to her belt; a treat is produced and held out to Rev, so that he can feed it to the brown. "A new friend, Rev? A lucky stroke." The smile continues to tick upwards, charming— and not directed at the steer.

"See here," preemptive measures taken, "you don't have to be comfortable around them but you should at least understand their full purpose." A hand reaches out to the oxen, slapping the animal flesh to inflict kinship and not pain. "That's Valmai, won him as an egg— Bitran Blood Chess. You can feed him." The unforgettably shaped brown travels by foot down the cart box, intent on Veresch, but modest. His sleep schedule's been toyed with. "I thought maybe your father tells you things about beasts, but there is little to fear from an ox, he's castrated and not a breeding animal so it makes him more docile and trainable." Take notes. As clouds take turns sheltering the only visible moon, Rev continues. "They're stronger than a runnerbeast with more staying power but arent as quick. Like bronzes, you know? Easier to feed too since they chew their fodder twice. So's more efficient."

For the moment Veresch concentrates on slinking Valmai, slowly coaxing him down off his human's hand and onto her arm, complete with treats wiggled and soft, soothing nonsense sounds in a low voice. The action keeps her calm when Threvobek tries to explain. "My father did tell me about beasts," she says as calmly as she may, neatly sidestepping. There's still a twitch to her face, but she lifts her gaze from the brown to eye the steer, lips twitching. "Don't hear the bronzeriders hear you saying that, or they'll be offering to castrate you as well. Can't you handle all the… all the patting and backslapping and duties like that whilst we're on the road?" Then, as if words had just soaked in, "You won him at Bitran Blood Chess?" she asks, voice escalating with incredulity. "Are you stupid? That's sharding dangerous!"

Veresch may have earned a friend for life as Valmai converts easily. He's a clean eater, swallows most of what he can whole. Crouched at the level of the wheel that squeaks, Threvobek stays true to the topic at hand while trying to gauge components of the axle. "Clearly dragons are superior, but no bronzeriders are around so I'm comfortable making the comparison." AKA his genitals are safe. "This little lesson isn't for the sake of our trip," scoffing at the thought of Veresch waxing to strangers about neutered cows, "I just want you to know." Stated simply. "And don't you dare flay me about dangerous." They both know what he thinks of a lone woman, and he will slip into a harangue.

With Valmai fed and converted, Veresch lifts her hand close to crouching Rev to allow the firelizard to go back to his human, and crouches down as well to look a the axle. "Thank you," she says as seriously as she knows how, though there's still an imp of mischief lurking there somewhere. "I'll recall it. I recall quickly, at least." Trained mind an all that. "It looks like your axle pin is rubbing a little thin," she comments after his last, airy and unconcerned. "At least your luck is holding there as well, hm? He's a fine brown." One hand lifts to motion at his hair, an aborted touch. "Come, come, let us not argue today. Go on about the, er, steer."

Threvobek has his hands on the element Veresch so happens to name. Surprised, his hands withdraw, setting against each thigh. "How'd you know that?" He'd believe sorcery if he knew the term existed. "I'll bet it's because you sabotaged it before I left because you wanted to fray my wits listening to a squeak with every rotation." There's no way he's serious because not even he believes it, grinning leniently. "He's a fine firelizard, I continue to work with him." No creature of his would consist of form without function. The bit of placating is reluctantly successful. "That one there is, True, was part of a pair but his workmate False died last turn. You can sometimes put together new animals but matching them can be difficult since a set's trained together for turns. True's been used solitary and seems not to mind though it limits his use to lighter tasks." Standing, "you want a ride back to the Weyr?"

Veresch straightens with a slight grin. "I know things," she says mysteriously as she turns to look and clamber her way to the top of the small cart, perching in the back. "And I would, thank you. I know that sometimes they yoke animals together so that an older, more experienced one can train the younger, but I didn't know that you trained them together for that long. Poor True, to have lost his partner. I'd appreciate a ride back to the Weyr, if he can bear the extra load."

Valmai, knowing his caretaker doesn't usually take the firelizard to his neck, decides to stretch his wings into the night, ranging overhead in an oval-shaped flight. "I'll walk, it'll be easily on both us beasts." True's flank receives another dutiful pat then 'get up' urges the animal forward. Quite frankly a walk would do his buttocks good, there's just not enough padding on these seats for long distances, and this is no pleasure carriage. "He's happy enough." True is fed, worked, and housed, a draught animal should be so lucky. "I'm a little eager to be getting on this trip of ours."

Veresch listens, slumped in a position that's less than graceful as she works her legs and calves slowly to take care of the slowly cooling muscles. "They're going to be putting out new schedules in a bit," she says very quietly, letting the rattle of the cart take care of anyone else that might be looking on. "We''ll have to be watchful for a few days, but I'm guessing that we'll be able to get going sooner than planned. Still…" She falls silent, then slouches forward more, keeping her elbows on her knees though her arms dangle free. "So eager to get out and make a name for yourself, eh?" she queries lightly. "Or is it something else?"

The repetitive squeak resumes in status though they have a fairly short commute to endure it. True plods ahead with his driver a small distance to the right side of him. This is no started animal so minimal effort is required to keep him on a straight line. "Good on all accounts. So why did you hesitate?" He noticed, fess up. Valmai's looping flight continues as the stablehand considers the question asked of him. "My ambitions are my own, but the first of which isn't for the good of being on everyone's tongue for a day or two." Veresch may not know much of the man, but there are few stablehands lust after glory and attain it. "I want to attend the fair and see what Timbo can do. He's the ox coming with us I'm entering in a pulling competition." So much for staying under the radar. "I know he'd do well, comes from Lord Bergeron's stock on his dam's side." There's little to do but go along with him. "I'm a little awed you asked me of all people seeing how we don't often see eye to eye." During no time of the conversation does he look back, only side glances do.

There's a shrug from the young woman. "You look like the type," she says blandly. "You like animals, so it's a good cover, you have a certain… mentality that the cotholders appreciate, so that's to the good as well. It doesn't matter that we don't get along personally. There's some chance of good fortune and marks at the end of it, and the reward of a good deed done. If you can attend a fair on the way as well, it serves as cover for us being out there, and I have an, ah, authority figure to trail behind, be that husband or brother." The smile fades, but no hostility rises for the moment. "You had the right to say no. You didn't. You will have to make your peace with that, I can't make it for you."

The Weyr looms at the end of a path paved in starlight, the watchrider brazier burning in earnest. Threvobek can almost smell the smoke it gives off, fueled by a derivative of Igen's black water. "If we're back to the Weyr after it ends it'll have been worth it." He is quite fond of his neck after all. In fact, a hand rubs the back of his head where strain concentrated during the three-day trip to Mestuza Hold. Predictably, "I'll make sure you return safely to your father." Else consider his stable career over and his future breeding days as well.

With the Weyr so near and her legs feeling the strain of sitting still (not to mention her backside) Veresch nips down the moving cart, landing neatly as you please, and continues walking. "I'll be glad of having someone with me as well," she admits quietly. "And that is the last I shall say of it. Might want to have the Healers look at that if the strain is too bad, eh?" There's a chin-nod to the hand rubbing at his back, and she pulls her clothes more tightly around her frame, arms crossing. "My father would thank you." Light, neutral, pleasant. Someone's trying, at least.
Threvobek has Impressed brown Valmai.

Threvobek actually looks at Veresch now that she's walking and on equal ground. "I only need a night's rest." Nipping any dealings with healers right in the bud. They serve their fuction well, but no healthy person covets their company. The remaining trek sees them quietly through the last barrier to the Weyr where Threvobek will bid the messenger good-night, maybe even a pleasant tomorrow, tend to the herdbeast first and fall asleep before the beast does.

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