Logs:Free Labour
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| RL Date: 27 February, 2015 |
| Who: Faryn, Tomic |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: The weyrbrats are on a field trip. Faryn has an idea of how to put them to use. |
| Where: Stables, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 15, Month 2, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Deena/Mentions |
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| Stables, High Reaches Weyr There has been an invasion. At least it's the older weyrbrats today - around six turns and up - the ones who could make it under their own power, who (supposedly) have enough sense not to spook the animals or get kicked, the ones who should know better than to be cruel. Tomic is with them, as is another nanny. The group has been divided, and, if not conquered, at least for now is relatively under control. While the other nanny has drawn the short straw of showing the kids tack and food supplies and the like (interest is waning), Tomic gets to have an easy lean up against one of the stall doors, where there's a docile enough pony. "She seems sturdy enough to me," he shrugs in answer to a question about her use, as compared to the larger runners. "Don't reach with your finger," added when one of the kids starts to do just that. Late afternoon with the sun dipping low is when the last of the runners are afforded their exercise, each rotated in and out of their stalls and warmed, ridden, then walked back for rest of their evening routine. Faryn is halfway through, no where to be seen until she enters with a huge beast, one that makes her look doll-like in comparison. "Oh!" Faryn's exclamation is genuine surprise, lacking dissatisfaction as she tallies the people in her domain, their locations, their demeanors. "Shhh," she says to the stallion, more cautious about leading him through the aisle so as not to stomp on any of the young ones, forcing his head when he seems disinclined. She stops three stalls from where Tomic is leaning, a vague smile on her face as she opens the door. "I wasn't told we'd have company," she says to him by way of greeting, shooing the beast home. The flash of a hand to the back of one of the boys' shirts when he goes to make a dart for that stallion is rather quick, especially considering it comes from Tomic. It leaves the young man looking fairly unworried, even in the first flail and inescapable loud, "Hey!" before he settles. Tomic recognises the herder, and draws an easy smile, at much more his own unhurried rate. "Well, Deena grew up with a herder dad," he nods to his colleague, who's containing excitement down at the other end. Stallions are way better than food pails. "So they figured we didn't really need a guide." His head turns incrementally to watch her. "You seem busy, anyway." In time to one of the kids near the male nanny gasping an excited, "What's his name?" She keeps a close eye on the children, not the runner. He's docile enough. She's taking her own count, just in case someone decides it would be a good adventure to sleep in one of the empty stalls. "I don't mind," Faryn says, though a tension in her voice suggests she might, just a little, "so long as you take care." As for being busy, Faryn shrugs. "Not especially. Mostly finishing up this guy. The rest have been done. We started early." And she's quick about her duties, not missing a beat in each stage of his cooldown and feed. He seems appreciative of it, leaning his long neck over the stall door and nosing towards the children, as curious of them as they are of him. "Bossy." She supplies quickly, with a fond look at the stallion. "Lazy. Slow." All probably false names, but any might do in a pinch. Then, her teasing lost on an animal who clearly cares for nothing but his rub down, she supplies, "Korr. He's good at pulling heavy things and rubbish at racing." "That's my sister's name!" quips one of the older girls nearby. It gets one laugh, but the other three with Tomic are far too busy staring at that big head. That young man, he lets go of the boy's shirt, now sudden movements seem mostly to be over and done with. The boy who'd asked after the beast's name dares to step forward, reaching curled fingers up to try and pet the runner's cheek. The poor pony is left forgotten, except by the girl on tip-toes at her stall, still, ignoring the rest. "He's the last? So... do you have to do clean-up in the stables, after this?" A glance to his group. Back to Faryn. "Which? Lazy? Or Bossy?" She's teasing now, but thankful for the distraction for the giant head. That just keeps reaching and reaching, quite content to accommodate small hands. Gentle giant, he is, and when one small hand touches his neck, he's still trying to fit his velveteen muzzle in a tentative hand that is still slightly too far away. "Not my turn, for once," Faryn says. "I took care of all the exercise, someone eelse gets the stables tonight. Compromise." Her smile is faint and amused, and when she turns her dark eyes are curious. "Move," she says, appropo of nothing, shoving her slight frame between a haunch and the the wall, bending down reach something and popping back up with a scoop filled with grain, unloading it into the trough on the door. "Mostly bossy," answers the girl. The corner of Tomic's mouth twitches upward. "So what would that other person have to do? To put them all to bed and make sure it's all set up?" Because his group has not benefitted so much as the group desperately wanting to escape Deena and come see that big runner. Even the pony. Anything. Tomic moves in time with the runner, and manages to take one of the weyrbrats with him, by sheer gravitational pull, it seems. "Oh," next, though he's slow in resuming his lean. Casual. Faryn's laughter at the rejoinder comes easily, especially with no reason to hold it in. "I see," she says, shaking her head. "I bet she's not as bad as this guy though, and I haven't even met her." For Tomic, she shrugs, sealing off the bag of feed and tucking it away, squeezing her way past the runner and then out the door, barely disturbing him as she makes her way. "Not much, actually. The only difference between him and me is I get to sleep through the night. I'll finish the cooldowns and rub downs," she gestures to Korr, who is relaxing but still disinterested in his feed, "and Braecan will come in a little while to rug them and give them hay for the night. Then he has to get up in the night to come check on them. They're pretty helpless in here, but usually they're just fine. He also gets the morning duties, which are pretty much the same except he gets to clean their stalls." She's smug about that one. For having taken so long to go back to leaning, Tomic's quick to move again as the herder exits the stall, angling around the kids to get a few steps nearer. Whatever it was he was coming in to ask or say of his own is soon overwhelmed by, "So does he get to sleep here with the runners?" and, "Don't they get cold?" and then, "Do they get braziers like we do in dad's weyr?" and "What do you rub them with?", and a final, meek, "You mean they don't have to clean their own rooms?" Faryn holds out her hands, laughing. "One at a time, otherwise you'll bother them and they'll get upset. They're worse than babies." That should be a somber enough warning. "I sleep here, when it's my turn. Sometimes it's cold, but they're okay. They're hotter blooded than we are, it doesn't bother them too much unless they have bad joints...." Now she trails off, appparently having lost track of most of the questions by virtue of their rapidity. The last question, though, is easy, and earns another bark of laughter. "No, they don't. They do so much other work in the weyr, they've earned the help. And anyways, how would they use shovels and rakes?" Her eyes brighten, a thought striking. "You know," she says, pensive, "I bet Braecan would love help. If you're here when he shows up, maybe he'd let you stay a while. So long as you promised to listen, and were willing to work. It's not easy in here." She glances at Tomic after, realizing she may have overstepped a boundary. She, after all, doesn't have to answer to parents. The answers - and the proposal - leads to general murmuring, over which Tomic at least instinctively projects his voice. It can be as big as he is himself, really, if he wants it to be. "Well. The ones who need to be back can always look into coming to help in the next days. If you all are sure." He's looking to his collection of weyrbrats now, eyes moving from this one to that, and then across, to where the second group is now coming to join the first. "With one of us here, too." And then, faster, when he sees Deena opening his mouth, "But I could do that." Dark eyes are on Faryn again. And he nods. "Sure!" Faryn says, rather enthusiastic now, though whether that's because she'd be inflicting weyrbrats on Braecan or because their joy is contagious, it's hard to tell. Regardless, a moment later she seems to realize, "I will be back to night duties in two days. If your parents give you permission, we can figure something out." The enthusiasm has not quite waned. "Might even be warm enough to sleep in here. But we'll see. How many of you have even been on runners?" A few raise their hands. Tomic and Deena are among them. "I've been on dragons," boasts one of the more insecure of the weyrbrats. Murmurs of agreement ensue. And Tomic takes another sidling step nearer Faryn, while monitoring the haord, while waiting his turn. Faryn's brows furrow and she shakes her head. "It's different. It's very different. You have to talk to runners with your body. I'm sure the dragon in question is lovely, but it doesn't count. And it doesn't matter if you haven't, you can still help in here if you'd like. I'll learn ya." A wink to them, and Faryn turns her perpetual smirk towards Tomic and Deena. "I'll tell Braecan before he comes in for rugging. He's a good man, just doesn't care for surprises." "So... Does that mean you wanted anyone tonight?" He's counting the off again, the ones that have to be back soon, counting them visually. "Or do we want to start this when you're on nights again?" A beat. "They like you, you know." He can look to Faryn properly at this point, while at least one of the boys offers up his voice in agreement. Faryn says, "A couple for Braecan. I'd hate to deprive him," she says. She's counted again too, several times. "Two? Two would be good, and maybe two in the morning for the first morning checks. Or if you'd prefer to wait...." She tapers off with a shrug. No skin off her back. "I like them too," she acknowledges, and it might be the easiest relationship she's made since coming to the weyr, this camraderie with the weyrbrats. "I'll take shifts to get them all."" "That's... great, then. We can sort that all out." And he does, slowly moving off from Faryn's side, to at least orient himself more to Deena. The division of labour winds up, this time, being Tomic taking the younger kids, or kids whose time has been spoken for, back. Deena can stay tonight. Tomic will see to it that he can be part of this in future. Maybe he'll swap some shifts too. Faryn watches the sorting keenly, stepping aside with Deena to exchange a few words and shoo a few extra children after Tomic, to return in the morning. These she leads, just behind him. "Uh, well," she says, leaving them off in his orbit, "I guess I'll see you in a few days." Then, a bit louder, "All of you. I'll see you soon." She backs off, back to Deena and the remaining kids, ostensibly to wait for Faryn's replacement. |
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