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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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.

He swallows, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment as he processes exactly how much he'd shoves his foot in his mouth with that one, but when he's opened them Faro is shaking his head and sounds... not troubled, at least. Later Detlef will find a way to make it up to the guy. Right now, it looks like Farogil's ready to let it rest. Which is a bad choice of words.

"It's a fair guess," he says fake-defensively. "Cliffside's got to be big enough for looking glasses, so you had to have seen yourself by now. You're cute." Feeling a smidgen of confidence, Detlef reaches over to put an arm around Farogil's shoulders. "Plus the big cities have plenty of people passing through them. That's opportunity, or so some of the books I have suggest."

Detlef's not wrong. He's cute, there's been plenty of opportunity. If they were talking about how many laps he's sat on or how many cheeks he's kissed, fifty would be... somewhere around there. Maybe a bit low, honestly.

Faro gives a one-shouldered shrug, cheeks dimpling as he tries to reign in his grin. More flattery, but it's funny flattery, not the kind that's phrased purely to get his clothes off. Cute is practically chaste as far as compliments go.

"I am cute, but I also stammer and..." And, hey. Actually, he hasn't stammered. Not much, anyway. That's a sign of how easy it is to relax around Detlef that its like his mouth forgets to fumble. "You're cute, too, and plenty of people ppass through here. Is fifty a fair guess for you?"

He finds the stammer charming, but he's not certain that saying so would be a good idea. Farogil's uncomfortable with it. Maybe sometime later, and it's definitely a little odd to be thinking about later like that, like someone would want to keep him around for a significant amount of time. Daunting. That's the word. But before he can worry himself about that feeling, Farogil's returning the flattery. Detlef laughs.

"Not quite as many people pass through here as Cliffside. We don't have so many things to offer." That, and often the flattery is just show, self-preservation, distraction. He's Profane, after all. He hadn't trusted that his own family wouldn't betray him. Lance not turning him in has given him a little hope, though.

"I'd say about half that. Spending a lot of time with people's horses cuts down on chances to spend time with them, I've found." He says it happily. Maybe he's missed opportunities to make out, but it doesn't feel like he's lost for it. Especially not with his arm around someone he can make grin like that. "It's a lot less personal than offering to embroider someone's trousers, I'd assume. You could offer to start work then, be smooth, meanwhile I'm being snuffled by a large horse that's trying to push his way between me and his owner. Horses are not effective flirtation devices, as a note, in case you wind up looking for a second trade."

Yeah that's... that's a good point. Not that he would dare make a pass at someone he was hoping to sell his work to, and be smooth gets Detlef a raised eyebrow and skeptical glance. As if Faro could be smooth.

"I don't know," he shrugs, ending the motion leaning on him slightly, "Your offer of riding lessons seems to have worked on me."

Ok, maybe he could be a little smooth, although he still hasn't entirely caught on to what 'and otherwise' had meant back then.

"Did it?" he asks, slumping back against the tree and gesturing at Marion with his free arm. "You chose to ride the horse instead of me."

It's drawled out, as dry as can be, but the look on Detlef's face is more amused than anything else.

"I can't compete," he attempts to lament, now sounding amused too. "She's maresterious and majestic and I'm just Detlef the stableman, charmer of cats, not embroiderers. But I try. How I try."

Faro's brow wrinkles for a moment, then his mouth falls open in surprised embarrassment. The way Detlef said it made it obvious it was flirtatious but he'd been too distracted to get how. Now, though, what a gloriously forward come-on for him to have missed. He's rolling his eyes as Detlef fails to remain sad.

Turning a consoling face towards Detlef, he lifts a hand to pat the one resting on his shoulder. "Perhaps, if you keep trying..."

He settles his gaze on Detlef's lips, lets his eyelids flutter half-closed, and twines their fingers together. Faro makes a soft thoughtful sound and leans in a fraction, like he's considering going in for a kiss.

Then he shakes his head and sits up straight, "No, still her turn. Shall we resume?"

He's not great at flirting or picking up strangers, at least not while sober. But once he's comfortable and feeling safe? Faro's a terrible tease.

He's barely breathing as Farogil leans in, surprised at the sudden boldness... and even more surprised by the pullback. Detlef pulls his hand away so he can press them to his chest as he falls over to his side dramatically.

"I give up. I surrender. I can't compete; you're a far better tease than I. And probably a heart-breaker to boot, if that's anything to go by. I can't believe I've lost to a horse, twice. Go on without me. I'll just lie here and give up."

True to his words, or more like continuing with the show, Detlef stays on the ground.

Detlef's keeling over is definitely the most dramatic reaction to his teasing he's ever seen. He should've been an actor.

"Come on, don't give up that easy," Faro pleads with as much seriousness as he can muster, which isn't a whole lot. He lays his palm on Detlef's leg and gives him a playful shake as if to wake him up. "I can't go on without you, I need you to help me up."

That hand on his leg actually makes a good support for pushing himself up to his feet. Marion's wandering back their way as he stands, probably drawn in by Detlef's seeming collapse. Or she just decided it's a good time to eat his hair.

"Oh all right, I suppose, if you insist," he says, dodging the attempt by the mare to start slobbering all over him. Farogil's interested, there's no reason to be an actual mess as well as a joke mess in front of the guy. Detlef stands pushes himself up by using the ground since he doesn't have a convenient leg of someone else to use.

"I can hardly disappoint a customer, or a horse who would like to see the outdoors more." There's a short beat as he straightens the saddle, before he realizes his words might sound odd. "I don't keep her trapped inside, or any of them, but every horse likes being out of the paddock more than one person can manage. You should come down and ride often."

And that statement is delivered in the most innocent tone, with a completely straight face, before he's kneeling next to Marion and lacing his fingers together. "Need a boost?"

Come down and ride often? Faro's grin turns into pursed lips and he gives an empahtic nod in an attempt to play innocent, like he again missed the innuendo. As Detlef kneels, Faro sets his toes on the stirrup and gets a good grip on the saddle in preparation for hoisting himself up. He kinda bounces a few times, testing if he's strong enough to smoothly hop and decides, no, not yet.

"Yes." Maybe he'll practice taking big steps on his stairs so that next time he can do it on his own.

It's a lot easier with Detlef's help, although landing in the saddle is still an uncomfortable thud. Faro gets settled, gathers the reins, then offers a hand to help his tutor up.

A horse is a horse

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