faderift | i should've been a cowboy

WHO: Merrill, open
WHAT: Horses
WHEN: Drakonis
WHERE: Stables, outside Kirkwall
NOTES: Canon-typical talk of war, probably

i. the stables
Living in the alienage instead of the Gallows, Merrill is one of the more common sights at the stables than some of the other Inquisition members. She likes to spend time with each of the mounts, from the mundane to the exotic. The griffons aren't here, of course, but each of the creatures deserves a kind touch and some treats, when she can get away with giving them. Her own war horse, Honeysuckle, gets special pampering on the days when Merrill has time. She sits near his stall mending his blankets or adding embroidery. She gives him full brush-downs and braids his mane, and despite his ill-temper toward some of the random stablehands, he's always a sweetheart with her.

Maybe it's whatever sweet nothings she whispers to him in Elvhen, but it could also be the treats that she offers him during their time together.

ii. riding
An elf on a horse is still a strange sight in Thedas. Elves in the 'wild' have halla. Elves in the country have a goat or a cow, if they're lucky. But Merrill, in the Inquisition, has learned to ride with her back straight and her head tall. The tack on Honeysuckle is clearly Orlesian in make, though it's not any sort of fancy style. It's functional, and it has the Inquisition's symbol on it... and a few Dalish tweaks.

For as much as Merrill is also a mage and a Griffon Rider, there are times that she knows she'll have to partake in combat on horseback. Getting out on Honeysuckle to let him roam is fun for them both, and when they're far enough out along the Wounded Coast or up on Sundermount, she can let him run. She can twirl her staff from the saddle too, can make sure Honeysuckle is used to the feeling of magic coursing from his back, the sizzle of lightning and the movements of her staff in his peripheral.

Every once in a while, they disturb a flock of birds and Merrill lets out a whoop of exhilaration.

iii. wildcard
[ come at me bro ]

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"I am glad to hear it."

Her delight is obvious, and Six can't help the awkwardness of her smile as she watches Merrill. Her horse is strong below her and she glances down before she speaks again.

"Sirocco. He is nicknamed Sir." Her lips twitch into a little bit of a brighter smile. It's a cute name.

"Sir," Merrill repeats, smiling. "This is Honeysuckle."

Honeysuckle is a massive war horse, and snorts softly when Merrill pats his neck. She clearly adores him, and- well, he hasn't thrown her off, which is a good sign.

"I hope they like each other."

"I think they will. He is a gentle soul and I do not think he has the spirit to be cruel."

Much like his owner, not that she would think along that line; he makes a soft noise at the sound of his name and Six pets his neck gently.

"We should do this more, for the both of them."

"We should." For the both of them, as well, but Merrill doesn't say that. Instead she urges Honeysuckle off the main path, tracing a deer trail instead.

"I want to see the puddles," she explains, as if that's a perfectly normal thing to be doing for two grown women to be doing outside Kirkwall.

Six watches, hesitating for a moment before she shakes her head and guides Sir off the path, following after Honeysuckle without any more pause. It seems silly to do it, to go and play in the puddles, but it's been a long time since she's done anything like it.

It isn't as though she had much of a childhood to enjoy such things.

"Then we shall see them and find them." It's easy enough to give Merrill what she wants. "Are we going to play in them too?"

"Maybe!"

It may seem silly. But it also seems fun, the kind of thing you can do and not think about Kirkwall or your dead clan. The horses will like splashing about, she thinks, if nothing else.

"Or we can let Honeysuckle and Sir play in them. They might like the chance."

There is a time for silliness, Six thinks. It's not something that she had engaged with for much of her life, and there's a sad pang when she thinks about it.

"Maybe. I do not think he had much chance to play. I should get him out more, just so that he might."

"I think we may need to bathe them and then ourselves tonight, then!" Merrill laughs in delight, and nudges Honeysuckle to move a little faster. He nickers and picks up the pace, clearly excited to get to work out some energy.

"I could think of little I would enjoy more." There's something to be said about the time taken to rub down a horse after a long day of riding and then enjoying the quiet of a bath after. "I think Sir will enjoy the attention."

The tack will be horribly messy, Merrill thinks, but that's fine; there are few things as soothing as quiet, methodical cleaning. If there's mud, there's mud. The point is to have fun, to relax and not think of the things that have been plaguing them.

When they find the puddles, Merrill doesn't slow Honeysuckle at all; they plow right in, water splashing up and going out in small wakes. She shrieks with laughter, turning to beckon Six and Sir in after them. "Come on in!"

There's a brief moment where Six thinks that she feels a little ridiculous; she has never entertained such childish notions before, not even when she had been child aged. She had never had the time nor the place for such free joy, and she can feel the weight of that make her pause before she kicks Sir and has him race forward, galloping through the mud.

"I think he is enjoying it," she says, wry, laughing softly. "He has never had such fun."

"It's good for them," Merrill states, releasing Honeysuckle's reins and letting him splash about as he wishes. She leans forward to hug his neck, running her fingers up into his mane and poofing it out slightly. "Good for us, too."

"I think so. I do not know what his life was like before he came to me, but I would treat him well." There's a fondness there; Six had chosen this horse, had named him and taken care of him, and it's clear she wouldn't allow any harm to come to him. "I have never done anything like this before."

"Like what? Splashing in puddles?" Merrill clearly has; even on top of a horse, she's relaxed and at ease, only laughing when Honeysuckle steps and mud flies up onto her.

"Splashing in puddles," Six agrees. Sir seems to be enjoying himself, trotting after Honeysuckle, apparently content for her to take the lead. "But they're having fun, I think."

i should've been a cowboy

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