Welcome to Gaia! ::

Once more Macaire directs them to continue until it seems that either Rajani or Oberon has begun to tire -- mostly over small jumps, starting from various distances, often with Cadence running behind him unbidden. Once he deems that they have done enough jumping, Rajani may be relieved to hear him call for her to dismount, but as he either watches or helps her from the makeshift saddle, he nods encouragingly. "Aye, lass. Ye may be a bit jelly-legged, sae before we go ain, jest walk it out: stroll about, slow as ye like. Ye b'ain't quite done, but ye b'ain't sae far, neither."

He will also tap Oberon on the head to get his attention, and cluck softly to his own Guardian. "While yer lady be walkin', ye be runnin', since 'tis ye that will be doin' the running. She b'ain't nae fighter yet, nor are ye, sae first ye have tae learn how tae run away tae kip her safe. So the twa of ye will play chase -- go'wan now. Donnae let Cadence get you!" He claps again in Oberon's direction, another signal -- he needs to give Cadence no instruction, for like a puppy the fawn has heard the word 'chase' and is now quivering with excitement. The instant Oberon moves off he shall be after, and they are rather evenly matched; though Cadence is smaller and faster, Oberon is older and cannier, and can probably figure out how to corner him, or get him to go the wrong direction.

Fortunately, Macaire is offended by neither party; Rajani's glare earns only a warm chuckle, Oberon's a wild grin. He doesn't often feel that he knows what he's doing, but in this case he thinks he has at least something of a handle on the matter. When Rajani starts walking he starts moving too, although in his case he paces backwards a handful of feet in front of her, matching her speed. "Jest as soldiering, ye starts with simple stuff, lass. Ye'll soon have the hang of it, oi'm sure."

As they walk he keeps an eye on the progress of the Guardians, whose antics keep his own smile in place. Cadence manages to keep up for a good long while, though after a bit he has to stop snorting in pleasure and save his breath for running. He is very intent on his pursuit, finding that this is the first time he's really been challenged himself; sprinting away from or after Macaire is really no trouble for him anymore. When Oberon shifts direction suddenly, Cadence follows without even thinking about it, attempting to leap over a stack of debris much too tall for him. He doesn't even manage to tangle his poor legs -- which is probably fortunate -- but he does smack right into the side of a crate, cracking the crate and knocking the fawn to the floor.

Falling into a heap, he wiggles for a moment and then manages to somehow get to his feet, shaking his head. When Oberon comes back around and into sight, he single-mindedly tries to head for the larger buck again .. only to trip over his own feet, and go down in another tumble.

Macaire's bright bellow of laughter echoes in the great empty space, frightening pigeons into cooing wakefulness in some dusty corners of the rafters.

When Oberon snorts his triumph, Cadence's ears go back and he regards the larger Guardian with something like astonishment, shaking his head so hard that his ears slap against it. With a smaller snort of his own, more conversational than insulted, he finally wobbles to his feet and follows after Oberon, to put his head into one of Macaire's calloused hands for reassurance that he has done well. By the time Macaire begins answering Rajani, he has started to scratch behind Cadence's ears, and the little Guardian's tail flips back and forth with pleasure, his defeat already forgotten.

"Ah, now's the fun part. Up on yer lad again, we'll see how ye loike jousting, aye? Now, b'ain't much tae this bit but practice and balance, so dain't fret about technique, roight?" He'll wait until Rajani has pulled herself -- however carefully -- onto Oberon's back again, and then fetch one of the wooden sticks he brought along. It isn't pointed, but it'll do well enough for the straw target. "Jest have your lad back up, then set about knocking yon target over at a run."

Macaire regards the gypsy with confusion of his own -- she can see his lips move as he repeats the word silently, trying to figure out what she means by it. Jousting? What in the name of blue skies is -- oh! Comprehension dawns suddenly, as he translates her accent into words he's only read, never heard spoken. "Ach, nay, tisn't what's meant t'all. 'Tis ainly that 'tis good tae build up yer strength. 'Twill be far better, when time comes about, tae give ye a sward." It might take her a moment to translate this, but he gestures, as if swinging a heavy sword; this seems to please him for some reason, as if the very act of miming such a violent gesture improves his mood.

And it might suddenly lend an entirely different complexion to the whole situation, if it hasn't yet occurred to Rajani -- to picture herself swinging a sword as Oberon runs, cutting into the wolves as they try to attack. Macaire does not wish to describe this precisely, even though he has certainly implied it. If Rajani doesn't come up with it on her own, he'd prefer she take a while to digest the idea. After all, it's one thing to be caught with sharpened sticks that could very well just be walking sticks. He's still not sure how he's going to sneak about with the longer swords meant for true combat. He doubts the guardsmen here would take kindly to a gypsy and a son of Aireland carrying such weapons.

He will have her charge the target again and again, until she's certain she can no longer hold up her own arms, much less the increasingly heavy stick. Then it is more running, more walking -- and finally he will clap a hand to her shoulders, with hearty pleasure at how determinedly she has bent herself to her tasks. " 'tis enough," he tells her with far to much good cheer considering the lateness of the hour. "Now ye kin rest for a day or twa, and when 'tis ye really begun tae ache, then we'll have at it again!"

The old soldier is in oddly good spirits, when he should by rights be nearly as tired as she; even Cadence has long given up the fight, and has spent the past half an hour curled up on an old tarp, nose to his haunches and fast asleep.