A Steward's Request

Steward's Office
Seemingly much larger than it is, shadows lend to its size as they leap and dart, glows placed sparingly and carefully. Neatness abounds, from the smoothly spread rugs angled just so upon the floor, to the carefully dusted desk with not a single hide out of place. A lone tapestry swings upon the wall, dolphins at play in a gleaming azure ocean, and below it a small hearth crackles softly, adding a soft glow to the room. Curtains swing in gentle motion, partioning off alcoves for both the Steward and assistants.
Pim is here.
Obvious exits:
Hallway Ode's Alcove Rooms

Thin and tall, Pim appears to be effortlessly coordinated despite his height. Long and lean he may be, but disproportionate he is not. Tanned skin is rife with freckles, though consistent sun exposure has kept them subdued in the overall golden haze. Crows feet encroach lightly on blue eyes and his nose has a vaguely off center appearance, as if it suffered a break in turns past. Black curls top his head and settle in disarray to his shoulders, though he is nearly always seen with the hair pulled back in a short ponytail. Pim's air is one of profound stillness, and his walk is that of a man who is self aware.
A blue tunic compliments quiet eyes of roughly the same hue. Pants of breezy pale linen flow to just above the ankle, exposing a pair of well worn sandals. A thin leather strip is worn as a necklace, and though there appears to be something held at the bottom, it dangles beneath Pim's tunic to remain unseen.
Pim is 35 Turns and 12 days old.

Middling brown hair tops this lass in softly waving profusion, perhaps Rhaen's best feature: glossy and thick, with a hint of red undertones, it looks nearly unmanagable. It falls somewhere between midback and waist on the girl, and is typically set back in a no-nonsense braid or tied back with a scrip of leather. The girl's face, heart-shaped and broad through the forehead, is unremarkable at best— the signs of acne spot across chin and nose, along with a generous speckling of freckles; her almond-shaped hazel eyes look a muddy brown, but show flecks of green and hints of lighter chestnut color when up-close. Her nose is straight, a bit short, complementing her slightly plump-lipped mouth. No super beauty here, the girl stands slightly taller-than-average, thick-hipped and broad-shoulder, and more inclined to 'plump' than 'willowly'.
Leathern trous of dark chocolate color clad the girl's legs, snug at the thigh and waist and flaring slightly over scuffed, slightly lighter-toned boots. A tunic of eggshell-cream, slightly off-colored and showing meticulous cleanliness, is belted over her trous with a thin braid of multi-colored hide. Her hair is worn back, braided and falling past midback, though flyaways plague about her face as chestnut-colored frizz.
Doubled cords of yellow and white loop once about the young woman's shoulder, tied off with a long tail and a single silver tassle, indicating her as a Herder Journeyman with duties in administration.
She is a teenager of about 19.

Pim is seated presently at his desk, one hide is stretched out before him, three corners weighted down. Occasionally a stylus scratches rhythmically into the silence, but save the slight rustle of gauzy curtains.

A soft knock presents itself upon the office door, followed by a curly head of dark hair and the person who belongs to it. Rhaenyra pops her head in, a slightly puzzled frown abstractedly painted on her features. "Steward Pim?" she questions of the man within, voice both soft-spoken and resounding with the terse vowels of a Fortian accent.

Pim glances up as the soft scribble of his penmenship dies to a still. "Yes? Come in."

Rhaenyra appraises the interior of the office with a sense of cool detatchment as she enters, and the frown smooths from the young woman's face. "Sir, Herder Hall's respects to Ista," she traditionally declares, coming to a halt a pace and a half away from his desk. "I am Journeyman Rhaenyra, and I believe that you had requested a particular runner for your usage?"

Pim gives a slight nod at Rhaenyra's introduction, his own attention divided between the Fortian and the scroll he's attempting to finish. His quiet preoccupation immediately shifts however, when Rhaenyra states her purpose. "And Ista offers its thanks to Herder Hall for a speedy tithe." A light of contained interest flickers through the Stewards expression as he moves to place his stylus back in a drawer and draws to a stand. "Journeyman Rhaenyra, I'd be lying if I told you I wasn't looking forward to a quality animal for quite some time. The runners I've had to borrow have been rather ill tempered as of late." He pauses at the edge of his desk before a smile tugs briefly at taut lips. "Shall we go see what you've brought me?"

Rhaenyra glances past Pim to the wall, examining the tapestry, and then back to the Steward. "I do believe you will find this mare quite satisfactory to your needs, sir, if I may say so." She gracefully shifts to the side, gesturing for the Steward to lead the way. "I personally rode her in from the hall, and she has quite a pleasant trot. Very nicely paced for distance riding." She doesn't quite smile, but her cool visage does warm slightly. "If I may say so, sir."

"Well, I've no reason to doubt a woman of your title." Though both Pim and Rhaenyra are bound to the pleasentries of business and expectation, Pim manages to tip a coy smile to the Journeyman as he moves past her and steps into the hallway.


Weyr Stables
A nice series of stalls carved into the stone wall of the Weyr to protect the runners from weather and thread.
You see Shadow Boy, Kicebel, Arcane, Amber, Iggy, Kessyda, Skippa, and Darklite here.
Pim is here.
Obvious exits:
You drop Satin Flame.

Rhaenyra follows the Steward with even steps, though perhaps a bit longer than comfortable to keep up with the taller man. Once inside the stables, however, she breezes past him to a stall midway down the aisle on the left; a stout, tall black mare resides within. Satin lifts her head over the stall partition to calmly demand treats of the Herder. "Steward Pim, this is Satin. She is one of Retired Craftmaster Dalaynia's Painted Vanner line, crossed with a smaller, hardier Benden strain."

Pim gracefully falls into step behind Rhaenyra as the Journeyman shows the way to Satin's stall. Once there, Pim moves forward to get his first glimpse of the mare. Eyes sweep along the black hide, inspecting the stature and stance of the attentive mare. With a sigh of relief, he extends a hand palm up to the treat-seeking runner. "She looks to be a good match, she was a sound ride on your way up?"

Black ears sweep forwards, Satin's focus transferring from Rhaenyra to Pim. Soft whiskered nose inspects Pim's palm, then up his arm, huffing warm breath as she does. "Yes, sir. No heat or swelling in the legs after we rode all day yesterday," Rhaen replies; "The Benden strain in her bloodline is an extremely hardy one, so I very much doubt that you would have soundness problems with her."

Pim allows Satin to snuffle up his arm at will while his other hand gently tangles in her forelock as he gives the mare a companionable scratch. "Please send my high regard to the Hall for your choice, she'll be a good fit for me." He pauses momentarily, pulling his eyes from the calm curiosity of Satin to seek Rhaenyra's gaze. "And I give you my word she will be well taken care of."

For the first time, a brief smile touches the journeyman's lips. "Thank you, sir. I thought I picked correctly." Humor lurks in her hazel gaze, for a bare moment, before the Herder draws herself up, shifting her shoulders as if testing sore muscles. "I'm quite sure she'll have the best of care here— I am familiar with your stablemaster." She shifts, and pats the black mare on the neck with something like formality. "I hope you enjoy her. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have apprentices to round up for the trip back to the Hall." She gives him a nod, and shifts around the man, heading towards the back of the stables.

Pim nods and turns back to Satin. "Safe home, Journeyman Rhaenyra."

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