A horse is a horse

[stableman]

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!]

Comments

[engravitas]

This merits a sneer, Ben's shoulders tensing at the thought.

"The Spoke," he explains, gesturing to the tavern as to what brought him this way. "...I'm busy." He turns to go in with something akin to urgency, afraid he won't make it before Detlef tries to convince him again.

[stableman]

"The Spoke? I'm in." He quickly urges the tiny horse into a stall, where he's already got food and water at his level. Then he's closing the stall door and hastily catching up to Ben, bumping shoulders with the guy once he's done as much.

"I thought you'd never ask." Ben hadn't. Ben will likely say he wasn't asking. But with the arrival of another taciturn person Detlef's determination to finish his years-long quest of becoming friends with Ben has taken greater importance. He can't not be friends with Ben and Fiadh. That's just not right.

[engravitas]

It's worse than convincing, it's inviting himself. When Detlef bumps his shoulder, something snaps in Ben, and he whips around to shove the man away, a burning anger in his eyes.

"Don't fucking touch me," he says in a low, dangerous voice. It might be Detlef's imagination, but the spots where Ben's hands made contact with him have an unusual warmth to them.

[stableman]

He stumbles backward, not just confused, but hurt. Ben had come to the stables. He'd popped in. He hadn't had to. And then this? For several beats he's silent, looking at Ben, and then he turns and walks away without another word. Fine. Maybe some missions were meant to be lost after all, because he's not going to have something to do with someone who would put hands on him in anger, no matter what small suspicions he has after that touch.

[engravitas]

Continuing to pin Detlef with his glare, Ben waits until he's turned away, then turns himself to go into the Spoke and proceed with whatever business he has there. He can't quite stop his hands shaking, and his arms are folded tightly when he comes back out, stalking away and down the street toward the workshop without a word or even a glance to the stable.