Fort Weyr - Forest Beasthold
This area of the forest houses Fort's main Beasthold. A large section has been cleared and houses pastures, barns, stables, an indoor arena, small cottages for workers, and the watchwher dens along the outskirts and up close to the shelter of the trees..

At any other place, Trayvel would be finding a nice out os the way spot for a well deserved snooze. But not at Fort right now. Not with the local weather trying to turn him into a Traycicle. He's wearing a old patched up jacket that's mostly suitable for the cold. The two little knubby heads that ocassionally peek out before retreating into the warmth of the inner jacket help keep the Monacoan warm. He's heading away from the Stables, probably smelling a good bit like a runner himself as he looks about to the nearer buildings.

Well, he could try? But it would end with him being picked up by some S&R ground crew, followed by a lengthy stay in the Infirmary and many a lecture from the Healers within. Winter in Fort is no laughing matter! Unless one stumbles upon the sculpted playground for the children… but that's something else entirely. Even so, the Beasthold sees a good amount of busy work and traffic despite the cold. Trayvel's wanderings are likely noted but not questioned. Neither is the arrival of the Weyrleader, though some could consider it strange for Th'ero to show an interest in the stables and barns when his days are otherwise occupied. Wearing his usual heavy winter gear, the bronzerider stops not far from where Trayvel is studying the other buildings. "You've come a far distance." he says by way of 'greeting'.

Trayvel reaches under his chin to scritch the tiny blue head that is poking out of his jacket. He probably really wishes this old jacket has a hood when an icey blast says 'hello', causing him to turn quickly and make another attempt to lift his collar higher, it doesn't help very much though. Shivering his way along the path, he looks around when a voice sounds out. Even his lazy brain is quick to pick up on the Weyrleader's knots. A moment before he picks up on that it's /him/ the rider is speaking with. "Greetings from Monaco. Yea, I had an appointment to meet up with a beaster about a runner." He waves off the exlanation, then thinks better of waving the hand about in the icey breeze, and shoves it back into his pocket.

"You're a Beastcrafter too, then?" Th'ero goes on to ask after politely dipping his head to Trayvel's greeting. He'll note how the young man seems to be struggling with the cold, even frowning a bit to see that the man's hands are bare. "If you're in need of winter gear for your stay, you can always speak to our Headwoman? The storerooms are bound to be filled with extras." he suggest.

Trayvel shakes his head at the misunderstanding and laughs good-naturedly "Me, a crafter? That has to actually…work?" He seems to have trouble with that 'W' word as he cringes at the thought of hard work. "No, nope.That's not my bag." Shaking his head he cast a frown over his jacket when the rider comments on his gear "Nothing wrong with this coat. Was my cousin's. Syd said it brought him good luck." He gestures with his chin towards the stables as a blue and green head pop up from there cozy warm spots inside the jacket. "Oh, don't think I'll be around long enough to need to layer up more. I can already smell the nice warm Monaco breeze waiting to say 'Welcome home Trayvel.'" He grins suddenly and rubs his hands together briskly. "Think I should track down a warm mug o something first though. I'm Trayvel by the way."

Th'ero quirks a brow and appears mildly curious about this strange Monaco visitor with an apparent allergy to a decent day of work. "So you came this far to look a runners, just out of personal interest?" If Trayvel isn't careful, the Weyrleader might grow suspicious — and a suspicious Th'ero is a bad, BAD thing. "I meant more about your lack of gloves. The coat looks adequate, but you shouldn't linger out here with exposed skin for long. This time of the winter season is notorious for frostbite." he explains patiently. There's a chuckle at least, for the mention of being called home. "Well met, Trayvel. I'm Th'ero," He'll skip pointing out his rank. It's obvious enough by the knot on his shoulder and his rather dry conversation. "And there is always something warm in the living caverns — or closer yet is the Gemstone Tavern."

Trayvel gives a simple nod to the question "Yeup." After a second or two, he'll expand on his single word answer. "Gotta keep in the know on the recent runners that raced. Good to know what quirks a beast has before. Whether it's the one I'm riding or another. Never know what runner I may find myself on in some future race. I'm a runner jockey so always good to keep up to speed on the differant runners joining the circuit." At the clarification about freezing hands, he eyes his fingers before stuffing them back in pockets "Hmm, guess I didn't think of that. Figured pockets should keep them warm enough." If he can keep his hands in pockets all the time. Brows lifts happily at the mention of a tavern or cavern. "Well now if the tavern's closer, why trek further than we need right?"

What are the odds that Th'ero runs across two race jockeys in such a short period of time? "Didn't think they were housing too many racer types here though I suppose we'd have our own stock, just like the Holds. Most of the runners here are sturdier types. Workers, mostly Guard mounts." he goes on to say, glancing towards the stables and not looking bothered by the cold at all. He doesn't even have his hood up! "They should, if you remember to keep them in there." he points out with a smirk before gesturing for Trayvel to follow him. "I can show you the way to the tavern, at least, before I need to return to my duties."

Trayvel nods with another gesture towards the stables. "There were a couple in there the beaster was might proud of. He was imagining all sorts of marks he'd win and earn." A hint of a grin as he steps along with the Weyrleader, hands pointedly being shoved in his pockets when he remembers to put them there. "Now that's always good advice! Cold hands + warm pockets=Warm hands. Got it!" He cracks a grin and waves off the rider "If you have duties, then I can find the Tavern myself. I've never not found one yet." An exaggerated wink to Th'ero.

Th'ero will tuck away that note that there's an avid racer and race runner breeder lurking about. For now though, he turns and begins to walk through the snow covered paths, glancing to be sure Trayvel is following. "Be glad you learned that lesson now and not after you've frozen your fingers off." Literally. There's a ghost of a smile that follows. "I don't mind. The duties I have currently are not so pressing that I can't take a few minutes away from them." Luckily they won't have to go far! While there is a span of some silence, the Weyrleader eventually breaks it. "So what do you do? You're not a Crafter, but are from Monaco Bay. Weyrfolk?"

Trayvel is following quick enough, chuckling and wiggling his fingers in his pockets "Syd mentioned it was cold here right now. Turns out he was understating 'cold'." Smirking at that, he slips on an icey patch, but manges to keep his feet under him, even though his chaotic movements has two heads peeking out of his coat to see what's up, before they retreat away from the artic breezes. His brain filter isn't working today is seems, since his unguarded response is "As little as possible." Then remembering it's a Weyrleader he's talking to he clambers a bit "Oh no, not in a crafter. My dad says no decent crafthall would take me." Way to encourage a kid dad. Trayvel nods "When dad started talking crazy…" Crazy being that Trayvel might be able to handle being a guard "I figured it best to go visiting other family for a while. So I just had to go catch up with a cousin who lives at Monaco. Syd complains about me living on his couch." He gives an wink "I think he is just still irked that I found his stash of wine."

"We're actually not the coldest region on Pern. If you want to experience true bitter cold, you can always visit High Reaches," Th'ero muses, only to instinctively reach for Trayvel when the young man slips. Only it's for naught, as he straightens himself and the Weyrleader resumes walking once he's assured the other has his footing. Another quirk of a brow, "Still trying to find your own path, then?" Which is his polite answer to what was given to him. He could chide Trayvel for being so carefree and unfazed by his laziness but the Weyrleader doesn't find it his place to do so. There's a low chuckle, "Never mess with someone's stash of alcohol." he points out and as they approach the Tavern with the doorway now in sight, Th'ero holds up his hand to indicate he has a few last words he wishes to impart on Trayvel. "Before you go? You should take this." Reaching into his jacket pocket, he'll toss a white corded knot at the young man. Hopefully to be caught or Trayvel is going to have a few moments of panic to find a white object in white snow.

Trayvel cringes and may even go a litlte pale at mention of High Reaches. "Don't even joke about that. As a kid, I was convinced that was something parents used to scare their brats into behaving." He'll smirk a bit then shrugs after considering the rider's question "Hmm, not sure I'ld say I was really looking for it all that hard. I mean who has the time when there are fish that need to be caught, or bottles that are too full and need emptying." He shrugs "I don't doo too badly on the circuit though. Keeps Chief, me and the flits with enough bacon to fill our bellies. Can't ask for much more than that right?" Stepping along with the rider, he chuckles with a nod "Yea, I learned that lesson. Don't mess with a man's hidden stash. Even if it's not hidden very well." Looking over to where The'ro points out "Ahh. Good man, saved me getting lost on the way." Squinting against the whiteness of the snow and ice, he peers back to the rider "Hmm?" eyes widen and he goes into a flutter of motion, earning irritated chitters from Piplip and Scarla as Tray is smacking his chest like a fool. He's really trying to trap whatever was tossed at him before it hits the ground. "What?" he half frowns to the rider when he gets some white threads trapped between cold fingers. Shouldn't those hands be stuffed in pockets?

Th'ero laughs a little. "Did they? They didn't use the age old scare tactic of Between?" he muses and then considers what Trayvel has shared with a frown of thought. "I suppose you have a point." Even though it goes against everything engrained in him about working hard and being productive towards the Weyr (or Hold or Craft). Now is not the time for them to be arguing over the finer details though. Since it appears that Th'ero has other things on his agenda… Such as pouncing on unsuspecting victims. Though really? Trayvel has Velokraeth to blame. The bronze was privy to all of this and has deemed him acceptable. "It's a Candidate's knot, if you're wanting to except Standing for Rhenesath and Rinxyth's clutch." he explains, smirking and perhaps a little amused at having watched him fumble.

Trayvel eyes finally focus on the white bit of fluff he holds and then widen when he realizes it's not useless fluff at all. Still eyeing it he shakes his head "Um, no, *between* was used as a threat for not closing the front door behind myself." Looking back to Th'ero, he lifts a skeptical brow "I'm starting to think you riders have a wierd sense of humor. Or either you really dislike seeing people that have alot of free time." Considering his options he flickers a glance from the warm inviting tavern, then back to the white threads between his figners. Some chitters from inside his jackets gets a roll of eyes "He wasn't asking /you/." Taking a deep breath he gestures to Th'ero with the knot "You're the second person to think I should have one of these. Half Moon got a 'couple days worth of work out of me during the months I was a candidate." Maybe Fort can get a couple more than that, who knows. "Can I like, go get my dog, Chief? He's gonna get grumpy if I don't show up to feed him this evening."

"It's a little of both," Th'ero deadpans and making it all the harder for Trayvel to tell if he's joking or being completely serious. He's going to leave him to squirm over that too, as he moves on with the process. "We do things here a little differently at Fort. Chores won't be common place until closer to the time of the Hatching. You'll have excursions to fill your day… That will all be explained later after you've checked in with the Headwoman and settled into the barracks." he says with a quiet chuckle. As for the canine? "I don't see why not, but Chief will have to be housed with the other canines in the stone barn off the lake shore inside the Weyr. We don't permit them in the barracks." Just to make that clear. There's a glance from the taverns to Trayvel and an expectant tilt of his head. "Do you accept, then?"

Trayvel seems relieved that he won't be abandoning his goofy buddy. He has a few questions, that he should probably ask now, but there's always time for questions and answers later, right? Surely it won't be too late to ask later. The little thing about no canines in the barracks, well, that can probably be worked around with an old patched up coat and a big floppy hat. Asked if he accepts, he follows the man's gaze and nods with a quick grin "Sure do!" He doesn't exactly clarify if he's talking about the kot or a drink, but he does shove his knot wielding hand back in his pocket. "I'm still convinced you riders have a wicked sense of humor to be wanting me near them eggs." Or they could simply be enjoying making such a lazy guy to the worst chores imaginable.

There will always be time for more questions! Only Th'ero's time is often short, so unless Trayvel seems lost on what to do next, the Weyrleader is not going to linger. Could be he figures the young man knows what to do, having done this before. "Congratulations then and welcome," he murmurs formally before nodding his head towards the tavern. "Go on and have one last drink. I'll have word sent along that you're expected at the barracks later this evening. You can ask any of the transport riders too for aid in returning to Monaco to collect your things. Chief as well." See? He didn't forget about the canine!

Trayvel pauses and turns to Th'ero when it looks like he isn't going in, and shuffles his feet some, Nodding to the welcome "Thank you sir. You'll not have any trouble from me." Or else S'dny will have that bronze of his sit on him. Glancing again to the tavern when Th'ero tells him of head on in. "Mext time you'll have to come in and let me buy ya a mug of something." He does wince as the word will soon be out to be on the lookout for him "Okie, I'll try to move quicker than normal when gathering my stuff. And getting Chief settled too." He didn't mention bringing his flitters, since they've been hiding in his warm jacket the whole time.

Firelizards are welcomed everywhere but the Sands themselves, so Th'ero doesn't feel the need to tell Trayvel otherwise. There is a broader smile for the offer a drink, "Another time, perhaps. I don't mean to rush our parting, but I do have to get back to my duties. Congratulations again and if you need help, you only have to ask the cavern staff. Remember what I said about the cold," No turning into a Candidate Icicle! It's bad for the reputation. "Clear skies, Trayvel and best of luck. We'll be crossing paths again soon enough." With that, he'll leave the young man to his business, while he turns and walks back up the path and onwards into the Weyr.

Trayvel nods when his offer for a drink is loosely accepted for some future day. "Ah, then yea, you better rush off while ya can, before my laziness infects you." He gives an amused snort and waves to the rider "I'm sure I'll see you about." Hopefully it won't be Th'ero waking up the often sleeping Trayvel. "Clear skies!" he calls out before turning to the tavern and starting off again.

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