[Log] Women's Work
Who: C'rad, Ironeph, Vester
When: Day 4, Month 6, Turn 442
Where: Feeding Grounds, Fort Weyr
What: Ironeph has a brief discussion with C'rad and Vester.
Feeding Grounds
Two acres of fenced land marks the feeding grounds, with a small stable under a stone eave along the northeastern wall. The ground here is harder than the rest of the bowl, covered by grass kept short by the plodding of hooves and the munching of herdbeasts. There are two trees in the vicinity, and most of the Weyr's small herd is usually clustered around these or the feed troughs near the stables.
Most of the animals are asleep already. The grass is full in the summertime, and the trees provide ample shade.
Players:
C'rad..........An old man with grey hair, a round tummy and a salt-and-pepper beard.
Ironeph........6', athletic; olive skin, dark brown eyes & hair; early 20s.
Items:
Barrath
Exits:
Lake..........................[E] Stable........................[W]
C'rad
Standing roughly five and a half feet tall, Conrad appears to have aged most ungracefully. His oval face has wrinkled considerably, obviously lined with toil. His slightly pudgy frame shows some muscling, the result of reluctant exercise. His hair is grey and wiry, but if inspected, would show a few strands of his former sandy brown. He wears it short, with a hint of a curl on the ends. A salt-and-pepper beard and moustache downplay his slightly larger than normal nose, and accentuate his bright smile.
He's wearing a pair of baggy black leather pants and a grey long-sleeved tunic.
Vester
A young man in his mid teens, Vester stands a little above average, maybe five foot eight or nine, and carries the muscle of somebody accustomed to hard physical labor. A mop of sandy hair stands above angular features, neither homely nor handsome, but with eyes that are a sharp, startling blue beneath bushy brows. Not yet able to grow a beard, he has the faintest hint of stubble on his somewhat sharp chin. His hair is trimmed short, but still looks like it has never seen a comb.
His garb is that of a laborer, simple, dark brown breeches and a lighter brown tunic secured with a plain rope belt. The sleeves are long, when not rolled up. His boots are black leather, and have seen rather better days, not yet worn out, but approaching that point steadily.
C'rad is standing in the feeding grounds, watching his brown dragon eye the herdbeasts. "Barrath, just pick one. Stop being so particular." There's no real annoyance in his voice, but he does shake his head ruefully, and look about for something to lean against nearby.
Working his way down the line of fencing, Ironeph pauses periodically to rattle the fence, giving it a good shake and frowning. He then steps back to study the structure before moving onward, heading circuitously closer to C'rad.
"Huh?" The old man looks around at the fence, sees Ironeph, and frowns. "Somethin' wrong?" He looks at the fence, and slowly walks toward it. "Is there something wrong with the fence?"
Vester has also wandered over to the feeding grounds, looking somewhat tired. And almost surreptitious. "That dragon's taking his time," he notes to nobody in particular.
"No," Ironeph answers shortly, as he nudges at another fencepost and frowns. "Nothing at all." He glances up, around at C'rad, brows knitting as he takes in the old brownrider. "There was supposed to be," he explains, more patiently, shrugging. And, with that excuse for a break, he leans against that sturdy post idly.
C'rad glances up at Vester and nods. "Yeah, he likes taking his time, because he knows it annoys me." He rolls his eyes, and turns toward Ironeph. "Somebody send you on a wild--wherry chase?" A grin crosses his face. "Barrath, come /on/. He's been here most of the evening."
Vester chuckles. "Some dragons like to banter with their riders, I guess. And I don't *see* anything wrong with the fence, but I don't have your eye, Ironeph." That's delivered in the tone of a compliment.
Ironeph smirks. "They better not have," he tells C'rad. "My time's worth more than that. I think it's maybe over that way somewhere, but Nitaer never said exactly." He shrugs. "I'll get it tomorrow, maybe, or just tell one of the other guys. Thanks, kid." The latter to Vester, as Ironeph notices him and glances over.
C'rad nods his agreement to Ironeph. "Yeah, sometimes, those fences can be hard to fix. If someone's big dragon landed on it or something it can really..." He turns sharply as his brown takes off. "Finally. Waits until I'm in the middle of a conversation." Vester gets a grin. "Oh, and he's a master at it, too."
Vester hrms. "As long as it's got to before we have half a dozen herdbeast in the bowl." He rolls his eyes. "They KNOW they don't want to go back in there, too."
"It'll hold through the night," Ironeph says confidently, nevermind he's not even found the problem yet to see how bad it is. "Anyway, /I'm/ not the one rounding them up, so."
C'rad frowns at the handyman's words. "Doesn't sound like a responsible attitude to me. Maybe you /will/ help round 'em up if they get out tonight." His expression hardens. "I'm sure the stablehands could use the help." He nods toward Vester.
Vester headshakes. "Haven't been a stablehand in months. But if they got out, I'd come help, still remember how to do it all, after all." The boy studies the fence, then moves to lean against it.
Ironeph's eyes cut sideways to C'rad, and he offers a quick small smile. "Oh, sure--sir. If they start rampaging around the bowl, I'll be there," he agrees. Though, he also points out, "They wouldn't even need me, though--I don't know nothing about the things. I'd just get in the way."
C'rad laughs outright, a short bark that he cuts off quickly. "Sometimes, the best help is somebody just standing still to block an exit or something. I've helped a few times myself." There isn't much around the weyr he /hasn't/ helped with. "Oh?" C'rad eyes Vester. "What are you doing now, then?"
"Infirmary aide. Moved me in there during the boycott, and I'm considering apprenticing if I don't Impress this time...that's why I'm avoiding being assigned somewhere else. Quinley's taught me quite a bit." He glances at the feeding brown for a moment. "Can't make a decision until the eggs crack."
Ironeph glances over the older brownrider, brows arching. "Yes, sir," he repeats, grinning. "You hang around long enough and they'll put you to use in everything around here. Apprenticing?" He glances around at Vester. "Seriously?" Definitely skeptical.
"That sounds like a good plan, Vester." C'rad says encouragingly. "We probably could use more healers, even if they are just apprentices. Especially around hatching time."
Vester nods. "True, but I'm Standing, and the weyrleader made it very clear how he feels about male riders being dragonhealers." He sounds frustrated for a moment. "I can't say no, not with thirty-three eggs on the Sands and a major shortage of Candidates."
Ironeph hops up onto the top rail of the fence, perching carefully there while he talks. "Women's work," he notes sagely. "Ought to just leave it to them--let 'em have their own little domain. Besides, they're not bad at healing." A shrug.
C'rad frowns. "That may be so, but even if you're not an official dragon healer, or healer rider," he offers, "you'll find the skills useful, I'm sure. They'll help in some situation..." He shrugs. "I've just found that there's no such thing as a useless skill."
Vester nods a bit. "I plan on learning what I can, as I can, regardless of what the weyrleader says. I won't let it interfere with my duties, but at the same time...I won't let a life I could save be lost." He glances at Ironeph. "Plenty of male healers."
"Sure," Ironeph agrees with Vester. "Never said there weren't. Noble goal and all, but. If the Weyrleader says no, you don't." And that's that, to judge by his tone. Unceremoniously, he slides his legs over the fence, coming to stand on the other side. "I got to get going. Lemme know if any of the herdbeasts decide to stage a break-out."
C'rad waves to the departing Ironeph. "I admire your attitude, Vester." He smiles, and watches his brown finish the last bite of the herdbeast he's caught. "He's about finished, so I'll probably be headed up to my weyr..." He eyes the sky. "It's late, and I'm tired."
Vester nods. "I should be getting back to my own cot. And he can stop me from doing anything that would interfere with the fighting wings. He's already said it wouldn't be forbidden, once I graduate, but only after other duties are discharged. M'vari thinks I'm a sissy, but he doesn't like me anyway, I don't think."
Ironeph offers a briefly lifted hand in parting, then saunters back to the Weyr proper.