northclifflogs | A horse is a horse

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A horse is a horse

WHO: Detlef and open
WHAT: Detlef finds and takes in a tiny horse
WHEN: Current
WHERE: Forest and stables
NOTES: There better not be any need for content warnings, guys.

1. The Forest

It isn't unusual to find things roaming in the forest. Detlef avoids a majority of them when he wanders; he wants to read in a sunny, warm place. Preferably with a cat crawling on him, but he's not going to bring them out where there might be predators. He's barely settled in, book open to chapter five, when he hears a rustling. With a sigh he gets up and looks around to see... a horse. A very small pony, unusually small. Any annoyance at the disruption is immediately gone as Detlef kneels by it.

"Oh, hello there," he says quietly, reaching to start getting burrs and snarls out of its mane. He can't risk using the Vice out here where anyone might come across him, but he knows how to handle a horse without it. It tries for a bite but he pulls his hand back in time; this he knows too. "You've been out here for a while. I'll get you an apple to bite soon, all right?"

2. The Stables

The tiny pony is now clean, with a few ribbons in his hair and his hide starting to gleam from brushing. He seems content enough to munch on the offered food, and Detlef is content enough to hum to the animal as he tries to come up with names.

"You need a small name, one that's not too imposing," he tells the pony. "But not too small. You deserve a little dignity to go with your little hoovesies." There isn't really any question of ownership - if anyone anywhere around owned a pony like this he'd know. He's Detlef's now.

[ooc: feel free to make something else up if you want to run into Detlef and neither prompt works!]

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It's early enough in the morning to still be cool when Faro heads down to the stables for his first riding lesson. He dressed for the warmth and ease of movement, wearing a cotehardie with looser sleeves and that stops at mid-thigh rather than around the knees like his usual style. He's worn his most comfortable shoes, too, even though they don't really go with his leggings.

He pauses to give a good couple knocks on the stable doorway just to make sure Detlef knows he's arrived before heading in to his still-unnamed mare's stall to greet her.

The knock draws Detlef's attention and he puts his book away so he can drop down from the hayloft to see his visitor, though he's pretty sure he already knows who it is. Sure enough, Farogil's here... and so are his calves. Hello.

"Hello," he says as he thinks it, pulling his gaze back up to Faro's face. He's not dressed nearly as nicely - leather pants and a loose white tunic. "Are you ready to go riding? And does she have a name yet?"

Edited 2019-07-28 18:05 (UTC)

The thud of Detlef's feet startles him right as he goes to pet the horse's nose, making the both of them flinch. Farogil shoots him a smile- and catches him eyeing up his legs; he knew that it was a good idea to wear his parti-color hose instead of his boring solid ones.

Faro answers with a nod while he rubs along the mare's jaw the way he's learned she likes. After a moment, he suggests, "Mary?"

As if Detlef knows and Faro's just guessing.

Edited (Thistle would be too tough for him to say regularly :() 2019-07-29 11:44 (UTC)

He's caught looking and there's no annoyance, no scolding, just a smile and a nod. That's beyond promising, and his smile softens just a little.

"Mary the Mare," Detlef says, smile going back to a full grin. "I like it. Or Marion? Mare Marion. If she had a job, she could be the librarian." This. This right here is why every single cat and horse that lives in these stables have ridiculous names.

"And it works even more for her because Sir Lurk, you can see his tail sticking out from behind that hay pile there," he gestures, "has grown rather fond of her."

Faro's eyes are on Detlef's mouth the whole time he's speaking. There's a wistfulness to his grin; he has too much trouble with repetition to play with rhyme, yet Detlef flows the words together so easily. It's wonderful, a dash of envy mixed in with the happiness that at least he gets to hear it.

"Do you think Sir Lurk will mind if we borrow-" Faro's lips close to make an m-sound, then he thinks better of it and gives a tiny shake of his head. Better not, maybe once he's practiced it alone. "Her for a while?"

"So you wanted to ride her first, then?" It's out of his mouth before he can think, hormones charging forward far ahead of his head, and he at least has the decency to blush a little before hastily continuing. "He's fine, he'll be fine. I spoil all of them, truth be told."

Which might be part of why he's so thin, but he's at least not unhealthy. He just takes care of the horses and ever-growing cat fleet first.

"Let me, um, grab the saddles. She'll follow you out if you head for the paddock. She likes sunlight." Most horses do, which is why they're out there more often than they're in the stalls, but he'd wanted to make sure she was rested before they had their lesson. Rested horses can be more patient horses.

One brow raises in confusion at the first question. Farogil doesn't catch on to why that slip might warrant a blush, just thinks, oh, was Detlef going to mount up first to show him how its done? Seems plausible.

Another nod is his answer as he unfastens the stall door and steps back. Detlef is correct about her gladly heading to the paddock because pretty much all Faro has to do is start in that direction for her to catch on and gladly walk with him. She gets some good neck-pats as reward; he's hopeful that their tentative friendship will hold once he's on her back again.

Depending on how quickly the stablemaster joins them, he might catch Faro whispering, "Mare Marion," to her over and over, very carefully.

At least Farogil doesn't make the slip any more embarrassing. Detlef isn't always great at drawing the line between too much flirting or too little, which is very likely a significant part of why he's single.

He comes back to hear the whispering and is a little curious about what's up with that.

"Horses don't always respond to their names," he says, holding out the blanket that goes under the saddle so Farogil can start to learn to do it himself. If he doesn't know already. "But I've got some carrots, apples, and sugar cubes you can offer her if you want her to learn to come to you."

At least this time when Detlef startles him, Faro doesn't flinch. He does flush bright red at being caught.

"Oh, I..." The moment it takes him to turn and lay the blanket up over her back gives him a chance to hide his shame and take a deep breath. It'd be easy to pretend he was whispering it for her, but... if this flirtation is going to go anywhere, then he should be honest.

Farogil takes a deep breath as he looks back towards the other man, "I have trouble wwith words wwhen-" Exasperation monopolizes his face and he gives a see what I mean? kind of sweep at his mouth. "So I practice. When I want to say something."

He shrugs. Farogil wants to be able to joke about her name, too.

"Oh." That explains some of the breaks in conversation before, then. Detlef hadn't really noticed, had just chalked it up to nerves, but this makes sense. He comes a little closer, offering the saddle, and a good look at Farogil's face says this might be a big thing for him.

"Then by all means, take what practice you need. It's a good nickname, I'd say, though I'm biased since I came up with it." He smiles warmly in a way that he hopes is confidence-inspiring. Or at least just friendly and saying he's not going to laugh at the stutter. "This goes on top of the blanket, and then we'll get the straps underneath her and fastened on this side. Heave it on up and center it on the blanket. Does she need a bit?"

He's trained the two he's raised without them, but most horses need bits and he can't fault non-Profane for not being confident about riding horses otherwise.

Farogil's chin lifts and jaw starts to set at that oh. He'll sullenly take teasing from family and strangers who don't matter, but if Detlef has a problem with his stammer and the way he works around it then-

Then Faro's tension vanishes and his lips spread wide in a relieved grin. Good. Instead of immediately taking the saddle, he reaches a little further to lay his hand on Detlef's upper arm and give it a gentle, grateful squeeze. Faro follows his instructions after, lifting the saddle up and centering it in the middle of the blanket.

"The bit's the- teeth?" Soon as he has a hand free, he brings it up and mimes biting at his finger to confirm that's what he's assuming a bit is. "I think she had one before."

He could go for a little bit more of that touching and squeezing, as well as the way Faro smiles. For the first time Detlef wonders if he should change the flirting a little, tone it back or somehow just make it not so... catch-all. He's actually interested.

"Yes," he confirms, bumping Faro's arm lightly with the back of his hand, just to return the touching. "Some horses are trained with it and some aren't. It makes a difference in what tack you need."

Then Detlef's stepping back away so he can grab the right gear, slowly dressing the horse and talking the embroiderer through it. Maybe he's a little closer than he has need to be, but he thinks Farogil won't mind.

He doesn't mind at all, though honestly he's not sure if Detlef stands close because to be flirty or if he actually needs to. Either way, its nice, and the only person who seems bothered is Marion. Whether her occasional shuffle or snort is annoyance or impatience, that's another thing Faro doesn't know.

But soon they've run out of tack to put on her so it seems like they're ready for the next step: actual riding.

"Now I mount up?" Faro asks the question as he lines himself up at her side, hands on the front and back of the saddle. He does a few foot flexes and toe-hops to ready himself to jump on up.

How is Farogil so oblivious, with questions like that? It would be far less cruel if Detlef was only teasing him and felt confident to push with jokes, but he's actually trying to behave. It's the worst.

Instead of pushing his luck, Detlef grabs a nearby stool. "First we double-check every fastening. You'll get a sense of how it's supposed to feel before long, but before you're fully accustomed to the rhythm of it, always double-check." He runs through each fastening quickly enough before setting the stool down and holding a hand out.

"And now yes. On to the stool, then your hands go to the horn, that's that handle bit at the front. You'll put your right foot in the right stirrup, and swing your left leg over, sit, and holster your left foot in the left stirrup." And he'll stand here, hand out, just in case of slipping.

Oh. Yeah, double checking is good. He follows along with his gaze while Detlef makes sure he's not about to fall off before he's even climbed on. A prouder man might decline the stool but he did have to have a helping hand the other times he mounted up so, best not risk it. He steps up, takes a deep breath, grabs on and...

...successfully mounts the horse all on his own! Except for the stool! And with only a grunt of effort as he plunks his butt onto the leather and some wiggling to get his legs properly aligned for the stirrups!

Farogil sits up straight and holds the reins proudly. Marion snorts and shakes her head.

There's only so much a person can do, and a person can't not check Farogil out, as he sits up there with pride and his calves on full display. Detlef smiles up at him and now faces a choice. He can quickly saddle up his own horse and ride alongside Faro, giving tips as they go... or he can climb up behind Faro and give him more of a hands-on lesson. Either way, he'll teach.

And maybe he should also be more clear with the hitting-on, because it's entirely possible Farogil's missed most of it. So after that consideration, Detlef hops up on the horse behind Farogil, on the blanket rather than in the saddle.

"I've got everything opened up for us, so take her on out. Legs loose, you'll be guiding with your knees more than your hands and the reins. Press your right knee to her if you want her to turn right, and so on. Nice and easy. ...And may I rest my hands on you? I can reach past and hold on to the front of the saddle if not."

He gives a knowing glance over his shoulder at Detlef at that question -as if leaning forward to hold onto the saddle didn't require more contact than holding him- but follows it with an agreeable nod.

Detlef's presence behind him and flirtatious attention isn't unpleasant or annoying. It's just... distracting and new. And public in a way that he's never experienced with... this, whatever it is. That has him blushing more than the feeling of Detlef's breath near his ear or hands on his hips, and Faro has to frequently remind himself that they aren't doing anything wrong. There isn't anything lewd going on, they're simply two men sharing a horse for a riding lesson and other people share a horse all the time.

But, still. It's another layer of distraction from being a better horseman. When he's able to focus, he finds that steering with his knees rather than the bridle makes it so much more enjoyable for both him and Marion. They head over the bridge and out of town at a leisurely pace set by the horse, but they've only been on the road for a handful of minutes before Faro decides he's too distracted.

"Can we take a break?" he asks of his shoulder, following it with a chin-point in the direction of a grassy area along the side of the road. Probably where folks have camped out while waiting for the gates to open in the morning.

Farogil doesn't seem relaxed. Detlef tries to talk quietly and not hit on him during the ride itself, keeps it polite rather than even more than his hands on Farogil's hips, but all the same he's not entirely surprised with a break is suggested.

"Of course." Detlef dismounts first and offers an arm in case the guy needs it for dismounting. "Is there soreness or aching? Pain starting could mean we've got your posture a little off, or you're holding on the wrong way. It takes some getting used to."

He'll offer a completely casual out, just in case Farogil wants it.

Detlef's right. He's not relaxed, but he's also not unhappy, as evidenced by the warm smile he offers him before he grasps Detlef's arm and hops down, facing him and close enough that he could kiss him without stretching. But instead of a kiss, he steps back to a more conversational distance, though still holding onto his forearm.

"No, I'm- getting the hang of it. Its... I'm... thinking too much?" Farogil doesn't know how to explain the problem without, you know, explaining everything, so that will have to do for the moment. He casts a nervous glance towards the road, then hm's to himself and finally lets go of Detlef so he can head over to lean against a nearby tree, slightly less in view of passersby.

"I-... will you let me speak a moment?" he asks as he fidgets with Marion's reins. What he's really asking is: will you let me babble until I get out the words I need to without interrupting?

That could have been a Moment, right there, but he's a little surprised to be glad it wasn't just yet. A break is better, somehow. And the continued contact suggests that they're on the same page.

Detlef goes to answer the semi-question, ready to analyze where Faro might be getting too much into his head, but then the second question comes.

"Of course." He gets the drift. Faro needs to talk something out but with the stutter it might take a while. Detlef finds a tree of his own, close but not too close, and flops down at the base of it, leaning back and looking up at Faro. "I'm all ears."

Thank goodness. With a patient audience, he's got time to choose his words carefully enough to avoid getting tripped up on the sounds. It's trading pauses for stutters but, well, he'd rather pause a bunch than slur.

"You're very flirty, and I don't know how serious you are about it. If that's how you're ffriendly, or if you're... if you're..." Farogil gives an emphatic shrug. It could be anything.

"I'm interested, but I don't know what you want of me, and I have some... history and some... inexperience, that I- I don't know what I could offer if I did know. So I'm going round and rround and..." Another shrug, this time with a wave towards the horse. He was too in his head to ride properly, hence needing to pause, and have this conversation.

Farogil worries his bottom lip with his teeth, exhales slowly, then takes a deep breath to steady himself. "So. Are you hoping to befriend me, court me, or just fuck me?"

He colors a little as Farogil talks, feeling a little sheepish. The though he's put into it hasn't been all that deep, but maybe it should have been. This all being new isn't excuse enough. Once the question's asked it lingers for a few moments as he takes a breath, then he's giving Farogil a half-smile.

"Not just the last one. I mean I'm, yes. I'm flirty and friendly with basically everyone. It's how I am. But I mean it with you, and I've no history or experience which means I'm probably making a mess of it." He shrugs, smile getting a little bashful. "I like you. Like, really like you. So I'd like more than friendship, because you say you're interested."

Which is most of what's giving him the confidence to be this forthright. Lying isn't something he does, but telling the whole truth is nearly as rare.

'I've no history or experience' he says, and Farogil raises a dubious eyebrow to go with his spreading smile. He's too handsome and flirty to have no experience at all. But he gets the point: Detlef doesn't know what he's doing either.

"Good."

Marion tugs at the lead in an attempt to reach grass that is surely more delicious than the grass at Faro's feet. He lets her go so that he can join Detlef, sitting with his back against the tree and their shoulders just barely touching.

"Good," he repeats, "Then... then we'll take our time and...figure it out as we go."

His smile becomes full as he bumps his shoulder against Farogil's.

"Good," he echoes. It is good. Marion's happy, Farogil's happy, Detlef is nervous but happy. It's strange that after him putting his foot wrong so many times lately he's finally put it right. Of course, that means he has to figure out if he's ever going to tell Farogil his secret, but that can wait. That can wait a good bit of time.

"So did you want to talk about your history or will they be trickling through Northcliff Pass challenging me to duels for the privilege of seeing you? How many are we talking? Fifteen? Fifty?"

Fifteen makes him chuckle but fifty gets a full-throated laugh from Faro, loud enough that Marion snorts and flicks her ears at them. Fifty is just such an escalation and, in a way, flattery, even though he doubts its a serious guess.

"No, no. One, and she won't be..." Faro's smile fades down to a whisper. He takes a long, deep inhale, and lets it out slowly before continuing: "She was killed. Almost a year ago."

Not died, not is dead. Killed, because despite what the church and his family and everyone else says, there was no justice to it.

"Fifty," mutters Faro with an incredulous shake of his head. Safer to dwell on that tease than on Nelda.

A horse is a horse

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