Rory
Talys, the black mare, was well again, but Rory had finally taken pity on poor Bakshi and rather forcefully dragged him out of their pen. The idiot gelding spent most of his time cowering in a corner of the stall, even if the gourds hadn't been around for a few days, and while they kept the ponies as parts insurance and parts convenience, Rory was loathe to see the old gelding waste away. It wasn't like they'd ever been muscular wonders, living on a sparse diet and not performing much work, but Bakshi was an idiot and Rory figured he could maybe get him to stop fretting if he forced him out into it.
So the pony had been dancing around by the ring he was tied to, and Rory had danced around the dancing pony, and somehow he'd got him tacked up, with an extra goat hide for padding around the spine.
And boy had it been a wild ride at first.
Bakshi hadn't done more than walk or run the ten yards into his "safe corner" for nearly half a season, so their trip towards the Outskirts was alternating between blind flight, flashy trotting, a gait that seemed to go more up than forward, dead stops, and other unreasonable and extravagant activities. Rory was an experienced rider but at times the old pony had been close to unseating him.
Fortunately—because he knew from experience that the ground was hard—he managed to stay on the idiot gelding, and by the time they'd made it out past the woodlands, the old horse had calmed down out of necessity. Sweat dried on his flanks and neck, and while he still breathed like a dragon and looked at things, his spooks consisted of just shying a step to the side. Much more reasonable, Rory thought, allowing his attention to wander from the pony and to his surroundings.
It felt strange to be back out in the Outskirts. He hadn't gone there since he'd found Remi and Elyna; why go looking for strange things, when the strange things were already in town?
But who knew what else might pop up. Like, Remi. Again.
Though to be fair, he didn't notice the sitting man until Bakshi stopped, ears pricked. Rory followed his line of sight, raised his eyebrows, and nudged the pony forward again—he obliged, although a bit hesitantly, as if Remi might spring up and eat him.
"Fancy seeing you out here," Rory said by way of greeting once he was closer, peering down at the sketching alchemist.
So the pony had been dancing around by the ring he was tied to, and Rory had danced around the dancing pony, and somehow he'd got him tacked up, with an extra goat hide for padding around the spine.
And boy had it been a wild ride at first.
Bakshi hadn't done more than walk or run the ten yards into his "safe corner" for nearly half a season, so their trip towards the Outskirts was alternating between blind flight, flashy trotting, a gait that seemed to go more up than forward, dead stops, and other unreasonable and extravagant activities. Rory was an experienced rider but at times the old pony had been close to unseating him.
Fortunately—because he knew from experience that the ground was hard—he managed to stay on the idiot gelding, and by the time they'd made it out past the woodlands, the old horse had calmed down out of necessity. Sweat dried on his flanks and neck, and while he still breathed like a dragon and looked at things, his spooks consisted of just shying a step to the side. Much more reasonable, Rory thought, allowing his attention to wander from the pony and to his surroundings.
It felt strange to be back out in the Outskirts. He hadn't gone there since he'd found Remi and Elyna; why go looking for strange things, when the strange things were already in town?
But who knew what else might pop up. Like, Remi. Again.
Though to be fair, he didn't notice the sitting man until Bakshi stopped, ears pricked. Rory followed his line of sight, raised his eyebrows, and nudged the pony forward again—he obliged, although a bit hesitantly, as if Remi might spring up and eat him.
"Fancy seeing you out here," Rory said by way of greeting once he was closer, peering down at the sketching alchemist.
