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 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.

He doesn't need the hand, though for a moment he considers it. The contact could be fun. Then again, showing off could be fun. Detlef grins up at Farogil and lightly vaults up onto Marion's back, taking the hand after he lands before resting his other hand on the man's hip.

"We'll get you there," he says, warm and low. "However many lessons it takes. You've shown interest; you'll never be rid of me now."

Detlef clicks his tongue and the mare picks up her head. "Keep doing what you've been doing, unless your legs are starting to cramp." He's tempted to flirt about that too, but there's a line that does need to be drawn and he'll draw it there. "If they are, I can steer her for a bit and give you a packet of salts that will dissolve in hot water and help with the ache later."

He'd like to roll his eyes at Detlef being a show-off, but it's honestly impressive. Faro gives his hand a soft squeeze in that intimate moment where the other man's speaking to him and settling in. But it seems like they've both settled on what's too much and what isn't, as Detlef skips an obvious time for a tease and Faro lets go of his hand to focus entirely on the horse and his lesson.

Now that he's not caught up in his head, Faro finds he really enjoys riding. He practices guiding her around the clearing for a little while, then back onto the road out of town. They don't go much further down it though before they turn around to return to the stables; he does have other things to do today, after all, and better to end on a high note than with exhaustion.

Marion seems content with the outing, too. No more stamping and snorting, just smooth walking and relaxed ears when he draws her to a stop in the stableyard. "Do you think she- wwould she like more short trips or weekly longer ones?"

"Mm," he says, buying a second to think as he drops off the horse and holds a hand out to help Farogil down. Long is good, but on the other hand...

"More short trips. She's still adjusting to her new surroundings, and still getting to know you. And you're still getting to know her too. You can work your way to longer trips as your work schedule allows."

There's a short beat, and then he grins. "And as your social life allows. Though I'll put in for an additional 'more visits' vote, personally. As many 'more visits' as you'd like to make."

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A horse is a horse

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