[The Man With No Name] (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
withloadedguns) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
poly_chromatic2012-04-26 04:21 pm
withloadedguns) wrote in poly_chromatic2012-04-26 04:21 pm
Entry tags:
-44-
[Video Post]
[Surprise! No gradual start here. It's all dust and thunder from the start--dust and thunder and with good reason: the view is nothing but a jostling sight of a herd of wild horses (that would be a "mob" of "brumbies," actually) running through the fields between the City and the Wilderness beyond. Not running too fast, but certainly trotting along at a good pace. Sometimes hurrying, sometimes slowing, sometimes outright galloping. But the image, the camera, seems to be keeping up with them well enough--and no surprise. Look quick as it bounces around on the strap hung over the saddle horn and you might just see a familiar face. Seems someone's running along with them--or, rather, herding the herd (no serape for the moment; all that flapping fabric might spook the herd and that's the last thing one needs). And it seems that, as usual, his Network device has come along for the ride and has decided to make a report on all of it (he'll never fix that clasp at this rate, just give it up).
You can't say he's the best drover (where are these terms coming from, anyway?), but he does all right. Maybe he's turned his hand to it sometime before in his strange past (I don't think he was nicknamed "Rowdy" but one never knows for sure). Or maybe he's just good at anything he turns his hand to. But that's a different discussion.
Right now, he's maneuvering his own horse alongside and in and among and between these other snorting, rushing, half-tamed, half-wild horses. Clicking out the side of his mouth, even. Yes, all of that. And he isn't alone either. Now and then one can see a stranger riding on the other side or weaving his horse in and out of the flowing herd. So he's not quite at it alone and it seems that whoever these strangers are, they know what they're doing (they even have the hats to prove it). But it's still a sizable herd for so few to handle.
The whole herd crests a hill; the Barn's not far--it can even be glimpsed in the distance when the Network device swings the right way. And there's a good-sized fenced pasture up there, along with water enough and grazing enough, other animals. Almost like it was made for something like this. A good place to put a few horses after running them up this hill. Good thing there aren't more than this or they'd really have trouble getting them organized. It's tricky enough as it is, as one can tell by the way he weaves around behind them and through them, dashes off after a breakaway for a while (sometimes catching it, sometimes leaving it), rides alongside them, murmurs to them a little.
But the real work is yet to come. And all this dust and trotting back and forth, collecting strays, harrying them all on, this only the first part of it. He gallops off after another straggler or two and gets them back into the herd ("mob," please).
This goes on for no short amount of time, the same thing: the moving herd, the attempted escapes, the retrievals, the rush, the quiet... It's no great distance, but it takes a lot of time and a lot of work to even cover this much territory with these wandering, roaming horses. But the Barn is getting nearer, as are the fences that mark its pastures and fields. It'll be a trick to get these horses through the gate, but he'll try it--see, he's got help. Fact is, he might not even be the one in charge of this whole operation. But it seems someone had the bright idea to try and catch some of these wild horses and maybe even sell the ones of good enough temperament. Not a bad idea, as long as they don't disappear at midnight (maybe some won't).
Up that hill and up that hill fast and across the last expanse to the Farm's fences. And now it seems there's more help (and it's here and only here because it doesn't seem there were enough horses to go around--solved that now). More than enough hands to help funnel the animals into a pen and shut the gates behind them. It sounds simple, maybe it even looks simple. Still they manage it and manage to catch the last few who refuse to pass through that wide gate. His own horse steps and snorts and from the saddle one can see the horses in the pasture milling and wandering together--uneasy but not panicked. Job's done. Or mostly done.
He climbs out of the saddle and slides down, patting his own horse on the neck (loyal thing). He owes it a good drink, at least.
... And it's only then that he sees the device and that it's open and that it's recording. Well, after a moment's silent studying of the device (as much a traitor as Horse ever was), one might as well grin at it. Maybe you've never seen him when he's actually done an honest (this is an relative term) afternoon's work. Hence the wry, cocked grin. But he didn't do it out of the goodness of his heart. These are decent animals. And there's money to be made off of them. Bear that in mind amongst all those drop-bears and bird-eating spiders. That grin lingers. Someone whistles sharply in the distance and he looks up (more to be done, probably) and snaps the device shut again, throwing the feed into darkness and silence as suddenly as it all started, and it all ends in a--]
[//video post ends]
[ooc: Do you know what these are? These are brumbies. They are free-roaming feral horses from Australia. tl;dr: so all those promises about riding and horses and stuff? I am about to make good on 'em. A lot of these horses are curse!horses, so they'll disappear at midnight. But, in the process, the cowboys picked up some feral City!horses from out in the woods and wilderness (you can find anything out there) so those'll be here tomorrow. For riding and naming and all kinds of stuff.]
[Surprise! No gradual start here. It's all dust and thunder from the start--dust and thunder and with good reason: the view is nothing but a jostling sight of a herd of wild horses (that would be a "mob" of "brumbies," actually) running through the fields between the City and the Wilderness beyond. Not running too fast, but certainly trotting along at a good pace. Sometimes hurrying, sometimes slowing, sometimes outright galloping. But the image, the camera, seems to be keeping up with them well enough--and no surprise. Look quick as it bounces around on the strap hung over the saddle horn and you might just see a familiar face. Seems someone's running along with them--or, rather, herding the herd (no serape for the moment; all that flapping fabric might spook the herd and that's the last thing one needs). And it seems that, as usual, his Network device has come along for the ride and has decided to make a report on all of it (he'll never fix that clasp at this rate, just give it up).
You can't say he's the best drover (where are these terms coming from, anyway?), but he does all right. Maybe he's turned his hand to it sometime before in his strange past (I don't think he was nicknamed "Rowdy" but one never knows for sure). Or maybe he's just good at anything he turns his hand to. But that's a different discussion.
Right now, he's maneuvering his own horse alongside and in and among and between these other snorting, rushing, half-tamed, half-wild horses. Clicking out the side of his mouth, even. Yes, all of that. And he isn't alone either. Now and then one can see a stranger riding on the other side or weaving his horse in and out of the flowing herd. So he's not quite at it alone and it seems that whoever these strangers are, they know what they're doing (they even have the hats to prove it). But it's still a sizable herd for so few to handle.
The whole herd crests a hill; the Barn's not far--it can even be glimpsed in the distance when the Network device swings the right way. And there's a good-sized fenced pasture up there, along with water enough and grazing enough, other animals. Almost like it was made for something like this. A good place to put a few horses after running them up this hill. Good thing there aren't more than this or they'd really have trouble getting them organized. It's tricky enough as it is, as one can tell by the way he weaves around behind them and through them, dashes off after a breakaway for a while (sometimes catching it, sometimes leaving it), rides alongside them, murmurs to them a little.
But the real work is yet to come. And all this dust and trotting back and forth, collecting strays, harrying them all on, this only the first part of it. He gallops off after another straggler or two and gets them back into the herd ("mob," please).
This goes on for no short amount of time, the same thing: the moving herd, the attempted escapes, the retrievals, the rush, the quiet... It's no great distance, but it takes a lot of time and a lot of work to even cover this much territory with these wandering, roaming horses. But the Barn is getting nearer, as are the fences that mark its pastures and fields. It'll be a trick to get these horses through the gate, but he'll try it--see, he's got help. Fact is, he might not even be the one in charge of this whole operation. But it seems someone had the bright idea to try and catch some of these wild horses and maybe even sell the ones of good enough temperament. Not a bad idea, as long as they don't disappear at midnight (maybe some won't).
Up that hill and up that hill fast and across the last expanse to the Farm's fences. And now it seems there's more help (and it's here and only here because it doesn't seem there were enough horses to go around--solved that now). More than enough hands to help funnel the animals into a pen and shut the gates behind them. It sounds simple, maybe it even looks simple. Still they manage it and manage to catch the last few who refuse to pass through that wide gate. His own horse steps and snorts and from the saddle one can see the horses in the pasture milling and wandering together--uneasy but not panicked. Job's done. Or mostly done.
He climbs out of the saddle and slides down, patting his own horse on the neck (loyal thing). He owes it a good drink, at least.
... And it's only then that he sees the device and that it's open and that it's recording. Well, after a moment's silent studying of the device (as much a traitor as Horse ever was), one might as well grin at it. Maybe you've never seen him when he's actually done an honest (this is an relative term) afternoon's work. Hence the wry, cocked grin. But he didn't do it out of the goodness of his heart. These are decent animals. And there's money to be made off of them. Bear that in mind amongst all those drop-bears and bird-eating spiders. That grin lingers. Someone whistles sharply in the distance and he looks up (more to be done, probably) and snaps the device shut again, throwing the feed into darkness and silence as suddenly as it all started, and it all ends in a--]
[//video post ends]
[ooc: Do you know what these are? These are brumbies. They are free-roaming feral horses from Australia. tl;dr: so all those promises about riding and horses and stuff? I am about to make good on 'em. A lot of these horses are curse!horses, so they'll disappear at midnight. But, in the process, the cowboys picked up some feral City!horses from out in the woods and wilderness (you can find anything out there) so those'll be here tomorrow. For riding and naming and all kinds of stuff.]
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They go by lengths and steps, getting closer, getting closer, getting closer. The horses step a little, but they don't run.
He crouches and sits still for a while. They're nearly among them. Only a few yards in between them. But he sits still--as ever, to get them used to their being there.]
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Close enough yet?
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[Probably, in fact, if they keep up this going slow act. The horses haven't bolted, though a few have stepped away from them. But, still, a few others are looking in their direction, almost curiously.]
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[But let's not get underfoot. That'd be a problem there.
But if they get a little closer, he can hand her the bit of carrot he has hidden in his shirt pocket. And she can take it to them. Or maybe to that one in particular.
He creeps forward again.]
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If they think it's worth their time, they might come closer.
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Cats are easier than half-wild horses, maybe, but this one. This one's beautiful and she shifts incrementally, stretching her arm a little more. ]
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Only now does he dare to stand up--very, very slowly. He's got a carrot or two more hidden in his shirt pocket and someone'd better eat them...
He might not show it on his face all that much, but he's kind of pleased with all this.]
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The horse seems calm enough, Ivy seems pleased enough, so he heads over to the two of them--with an offering of more carrots, of course.]
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She's still petting the horse, slowly getting up to her feet as well to reach up to its neck as well, running hands over its coat. The horse snorts and turns to the cowboy. Carrots. ]
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She rather likes being the Great Carrot-Giver, and that the horse turns its attention back to her. Look at her smile as she feeds it another carrot. ]
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