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Inspection & Impression; Zoruda, tag Ira/Jerund
Topic Started: Mar 16 2016, 01:39 PM (314 Views)
Pandion
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Strange Bird
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[[Fuzzytimed to just after Jerund & Kalser's return from the events of the Hearth & Home thread]]

Zoruda had made good on her promise to follow Jerund back to Vaioa when he left Crom once more; though the two men had had whers that had threatened to outpace her a few times, she'd had a good, sturdy runner imported from Keroon that she had raised specifically to keep up with whers. There was no chance of them losing her--not for good, anyway.

When she arrived on-scene, she was more than a bit dismayed to find the sheer state of disarray the state of Vaioa's mining and wherhandling business was in. With the Holdless threat gone, there was a distinct lack of urgency to everything being done around the Hold. Some were patrolling, some were digging. Some built new tunnels, some milled around in the old. Some carried on with business as usual. Worse, some had apparently decided that Impressing to reclaimed animals taken from Holdless bandits was a brilliant idea, wherein nothing could possibly go wrong.

She paused in her inspection, then rounded upon Jerund, whom she had dragged along with her in order to explain some of the various ins and outs of what she was seeing.

"Jerund," she said, her voice now very strained. "Jerund. I have--" She cut herself off, closing her eyes. A deep breath sucked itself sharply in through her nostrils, and she let it slowly out through her pursed lips. "I have tried... to show open-mindedness, here. Greys and blacks in the force, fine. I see they have some uses. We can be open-minded, there. Scattering men and women everywhere because we don't know what to do with them now that a major threat's been dealt with? All right. We just... need to redirect them, I suppose. Whatever."

She opened her eyes again, though one of her lower lids twitched in spite of her effort to remain cool and collected as she stood by the pens where some of the still-unbonded whers padded around in directionless stupor.

"But this? Bringing in not wild-caught beasts, but whers that have been actively trained to work against your own force and thinking it's a fine idea to put them into your own fighting forces?" The last part came out a bit more shrill than she would have liked. She cleared her throat and continued, more quietly. "Jerund. Jerund, what are you all thinking? Have you completely lost your minds? Is the desert heat too much down here, or is there something in the water supply I need to be aware of? Because this--this is the height of lunacy."

She took another deep breath and straightened herself up again, folding her arms behind her back. She felt like she was being stared at, and... well, she knew she had probably caused a scene, but it was impossible to be helped.
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For the brief duration of Jerund's visit at Crom, he had hoped that Zoruda would rethink her intentions to return with him to Vaioa and change her mind, but he knew from the beginning that it was a vain hope. His former instructor was a woman of conviction, not easily swayed from her purpose once she determined one. So, although he was dismayed when she followed him after all, he could not say he was surprised.

The return journey should have been pleasant, but Jerund found it difficult to relax in her presence. After the constant attention he had received at Crom, he wished for a little bit of quiet time with Kalser and the whers, but Zoruda stuck to their heels as stubbornly as the prickly burrs he sometimes encountered in the desert. While he had plenty of quiet time during the trip, it was often filled with fretting over the current state of Vaioa Hold and what Zoruda would make of it all.

When they had arrived at Vaioa and settled in, Zoruda finally insisted on a tour. Reluctantly, Jerund accompanied her, answering her questions here and there and doing his best to ignore the distaste he thought he discerned in her voice.

Presently, they reached the pens that held the formerly rogue whers. Jerund had quietly dreaded this moment since Zoruda first declared her intention to visit Vaioa.

He stood by the fence, facing his former instructor with his arms crossed—as if to form a barrier against her—and an implacable expression on his face. He regarded her flatly as she spoke, sounding dismayed or furious—he could not tell which.

This required all his restraint. Every word she had said since coming to Vaioa had the sting of condescension to it, if it was not an outright insult. Very slowly, he drew in a breath.

"I understand your apprehension," he said, his voice almost monotonous with his efforts to restrain his ire. "I assure you the heat and the water have nothing to do with this. The troop did not make this decision lightly, Zoruda." In an effort to distance himself from his anger, Jerund turned away from Zoruda to watch the whers, resting his hands lightly on one of the bars of the pen.

"In a way, they are less difficult to work with than wild whers. Most of them are very young; all have lived their entire short lives bonded to a handler. They do not know the freedom that Kask knew. Deprived of their handlers, and knowing nothing else, many have rebonded quite easily.

"What is important to remember," Jerund continued, watching one blue as it stretched languidly and yawned, "is that these are not monsters. They are victims of abuse, forced into violence at an early age. There is evidence that many of their handlers were... unkind. Young as they are, I believe there is a chance they may be rehabilitated. I understand the risk involved, but..."

Jerund sighed and looked at Zoruda, his anger draining from him like water, leaving nothing but a deep sense of weariness. "I am tired of death, Zoruda. We have seen so much of it here... I want to give these whers a chance."
O'zen : Bronze Lenth
Lowen : Beryllium Lerriloth
Jerund : Brown Jerusk
Hama : Green Hamask
Eevai : Garnet Iopeth
Sh'ol : Graphite Hellioth
Kh'sev : Grey Saiyeth
Bervaidi : Blue Bervask
Syrsha : Brown Kalayth
Rosinthew : Candidate
Khola : Weyrfolk
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She threw up her hands in frustration as he spoke. It was like speaking to someone behind glass on the other side of a canyon! It hadn't been like this before, back when he was sensible, back before he'd been tainted by this Hold's lazy, ignorant, progressive-bordering-on-ridiculous ways. She leaned heavily against the fence, scowling quietly at the whers--that one didn't even have a proper collar, how were they supposed to restrain it if it went wild and decided to break out and savage half the hold?--before blinking when Jerund finished his explanation. He was... tired of death? Her scowl turned into a frown, and she worked her jaw a bit as she let the words sink in.

These were whers that had been taken from a bad situation in the hopes of making it better. This was a young boy asking why greens all had to be culled, then understanding the necessity when told of the dangers of overbreeding. This was a young man who carried out all of his duties, despite the unpleasantness of it all, but always hoped, somewhere in his heart of hearts, that there was a better way. She'd always seen it in Jerund, shimmering in those dark eyes and the stoic lines of his face. She should have known that, given the chance, he would have tried to make it better within the lines of what was safe, what was acceptable.

Jerund knew the risks, and he took those that were manageable. He was a good wherhandler. He'd learned from the best.

"Well," she said after a moment, letting out a soft sigh as she inspected the whers, "numerous safety violations aside... it's a noble goal. Have you had any successful rebondings? Any whers placed with good handlers beginning to rehabilitate them?"

She swept her eyes over the animals as she continued to lean against the bars, only to pause when she saw one large bronze that she had somehow missed on first look. He was laying against the farthest corner he could find, body tucked up into itself to look as small as he possibly could. Scars decorated his dulled hide, and his eyes whirled dull yellows and oranges as he stared at a spot on the far wall.

Her heart wrenched at the sight of him. An old wound, long thought to be scarred over and deadened, opened with terrifyingly fresh anguish as memories long-buried surged to the forefront of her mind. She tried to look away, but could not; he was so much like... shards. Every bronze was difficult, but one like that--one that age, one that large, one that looked like he could have once been a proud, happy animal now reduced to this--it was torture. Their eyes met across the pen when the beast next looked up, and there was a flicker of something--

No. I won't.

She forced herself to look away, tore her gaze from the wher's. Her breath was caught in her throat, and she was worryingly close to tears.
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Jerund did not expect her to understand. How could one understand if they had not spent the last seven turns at Vaioa as he had? Here he had led a life dominated by violence, and it weighed heavier on his soul with each passing turn. In the end, even the deaths of the Rogue Handlers had sickened him—even Terema's. He felt as though he had lakes of blood on his hands, and he would never be able to erase the stains.

How could he explain this to Zoruda? Crom was entirely detached from the conflict. Their holders were never terrorized; their handlers—save for himself and perhaps a few others—had clean consciences. What right, then, did they have to judge?

He was not simply tired of death. He was tired of dealing it. He did not want to cull these whers.

Yet he could not explain. It was not something he talked about—not to his family—not even to Kalser. Zoruda certainly would be appalled at the things her former student had done. Swallowing heavily, he looked away from her, unable to meet the scorn in her flinty gaze.

It surprised him, then, when she called his goal noble and asked after the successful rebondings. Light kindled in his dark eyes as he turned to face her once more.

"Yes—yes, we have," he replied, something like eagerness almost breaking its way through his contrived stoicism. "We have had people from various crafts answer the call—a few healers, even, with the gentler whers. Progress is obviously slow—it will take time to reverse the negative things they have been taught, and to recover from the trauma of their experiences—but we are focusing heavily on forming and reinforcing their bonds. Just as we would with a fresh wherling pair," he added, trying to structure his explanation in terms Zoruda would best relate to.

"And certainly we vet all of our candidates carefully—especially for these whers," he continued. "They are well aware of the increased risk associated with bonding to one of them. I make sure of it." If Zoruda trusted no one else at Vaioa, perhaps she could at least trust him—if he could convince her that he was still worthy of trust. If he emphasized that he was responsible for handling most of the adoptions, perhaps it would ease her somewhat.

He would have continued, but it struck him at once that Zoruda no longer seemed to be listening. She was staring into one of the pens, wearing a look of acute distress that both confused and alarmed him.

"Zoruda?" he asked hesitantly.
O'zen : Bronze Lenth
Lowen : Beryllium Lerriloth
Jerund : Brown Jerusk
Hama : Green Hamask
Eevai : Garnet Iopeth
Sh'ol : Graphite Hellioth
Kh'sev : Grey Saiyeth
Bervaidi : Blue Bervask
Syrsha : Brown Kalayth
Rosinthew : Candidate
Khola : Weyrfolk
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Jerund was speaking again, and it took all of her willpower to focus on what he was saying. They had had some successes with the program. Some healers had taken on the animals--good, that was an excellent start. Healing was a fine profession for 'broken' animals, as it helped to heal them as much as they healed others; she was a firm believer in that. The Vaioan leadership--Jerund--was being very careful with whom they allowed to adopt these troubled beasts--also good. She took a deep breath and looked up at him, forcing her mind to dwell on the program rather than the bronze who continued to stare at her from the corner of the pen.

"Good," she said at last. "Good. It... it sounds like you're taking the necessary precautions, at least. The, uh... putting them with Healers. That's good. A very good move." She rubbed absently at the pair of scars on her face as she continued to lean on the fence. Still, she couldn't get that sharding bronze out of her mind. He was huge, if a bit on the thin side; he would make a fine work wher, an even better patrol animal. Why was he not being put to use? What was his issue?

"That bronze," she finally began after a few moments, trying to keep her voice casual and disinterested but failing miserably. "Why, uh... Why has he not been paired? I would think most would leap at the chance to take a bronze out of the pens. Temperament problem? Injury? Anyone tried to pair with him?"

Why was she taking this as a personal affront? She didn't know this wher! She didn't raise it, train it, breed it! It was just... sitting there, a sad sack of a useless beast, and she wanted to know why. It was... it was her duty as a... Even her internal monologue knew it was all a farce. He just reminded her too much of Zorsk, and it hurt to see him lying there, ignored by everyone.

She heard movement from inside the pen and glanced over, only to jump slightly at seeing the formerly curled-up bronze now standing uncertainly on all fours, head still low. He stretched a little, though keeping pressed close to the wall as he did so, and then slowly, ever-so-hesitantly, took a few steps closer to her side of the fence before settling down once more.

She stared at him, and he kept his yellow-orange eyes on her for only a moment before turning so that his back was to her as he hunched up a little tighter. She gestured at him in abject confusion before looking back at Jerund.

"What is his... what is going on with that wher, Jerund?"
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Zoruda replied, but it seemed to Jerund that she was distracted; her gaze continued to return to one of the pens, and, noticing this, Jerund followed it with a sudden sense of dread. With great reluctance, he looked where he had previously refused to look, on the bronze wher he had steadfastly tried to ignore, and he inhaled sharply as something unpleasant clenched in his chest at the sight. Without his notice, his hands had curled around the bar they had rested on.

"That wher," he started slowly, afraid for a moment that his voice would tremble; it did not, but it sounded somewhat strained instead. He cleared his throat, striving to master himself. "I have said that many of these whers were not very close to their former handlers. This one... he is an exception. He loved his handler. He has... not taken separation well."

His handler had been a brutal man, a temperament the bronze matched. The rogue pair had tried to kill him. They nearly succeeded: once, when the bronze had torn his back open, and then later, when his wounds had festered and left him weak and feverish for days. He would always bear the scars; he was acutely aware of them now, raised and rough against the fabric of his shirt, permanent and restrictive flaws in the musculature of his back. Jerusk bore them as well, and had given some in return. For Jerund's part, only the thin slice underlining the wher's right eye could be attributed to him.

That bronze—he really was the exception. Jerund loathed the thought of doing any more killing, but there was a part of him—a much louder part, fed by fear and revulsion—that wished the beast dead.

But many of his fellow handlers had been attacked—some injured, even—and they had not protested the adoption of the rogue whers. Therefore Jerund said nothing. If the bronze refused to adapt, however, the troop might not have any choice but to cull him.

Zoruda knew nothing of this, of course. He had no wish to enlighten her.

"He is angry with us, Zoruda. As far as we can tell, he resents us for what we have taken from him," Jerund continued at last, a note of finality in his voice. "I do not know if he will ever be suitable for rebonding."
O'zen : Bronze Lenth
Lowen : Beryllium Lerriloth
Jerund : Brown Jerusk
Hama : Green Hamask
Eevai : Garnet Iopeth
Sh'ol : Graphite Hellioth
Kh'sev : Grey Saiyeth
Bervaidi : Blue Bervask
Syrsha : Brown Kalayth
Rosinthew : Candidate
Khola : Weyrfolk
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