faderift | i should've been a cowboy

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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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Kain likewise favors his griffon, for the most part, but he would never neglect his other mount, either. After all, there are just times and places where it's not practical to take along a griffon. So he always makes a point to spend time bonding with his hunter shade dracolisk as well, usually by taking her out for nice long walks, or even for a hunt now and then. He likes to make sure she's in top shape for whatever missions may come up next.

They're headed back in the opposite direction of Merrill, also at a swift, running pace. He slows a bit as they approach, and gives a wave in greeting. "Fine day for a ride!"

Six is more accustomed to riding than anyone who looks at her might imagine; she sits comfortably on her horse, tall and large enough to support her with ease, and she smiles fondly as she draws him out of the stables and mounts him quickly. The promise of a companion for her ride today is something that keeps her going and she rides out to meet Merrill without pause, a small smile on her face.

"Are you comfortable?"

Merrill is probably never going to get over seeing a dracolisk, if only because she can't decide how she feels about them. They're sort of cute. They're also sort of horrifying. It's an odd mix, and Merrill swings wildly between the two opinions. She'd never be rude about it to their faces, though, and so she also slows when she sees Kain and his giant lizard-horse approaching to wave back.

Honeysuckle has no such reservations, at least; he's steady beneath her, and that makes her feel a bit better. "It is! See anything interesting about?"

"I am!"

Merrill is happy to be out on Honeysuckle and happier still to be out riding with a friend. The weather is improving too, which helps; it's no blizzard like in Ghislain, and both of them are vastly improved compared to that time, too.

"What's your horse's name?"

"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.

There's ample work to be done in the inquistion's stables, almost all of it somehow boiling down to some kind of cleaning or mending. Marcoulf is occupied with the latter today: sitting aside some upturned bucket with one of the countless saddles set pommel down between his knees. He's scrubbing at it with some water thinned oil, working the fat deep into the leather with small, steady circles of a well stained cloth.

There's an easy rhythm to it, a cyclic repetition that makes it easy for the mind to wander elsewhere - past the dingy courtyard and the salt heavy air of Kirkwall's docks, past the city itself even. He works with his head bowed, one hand sure at the work and the other simply bracing the saddle by its seat. It's good enough for that much, he thinks. He thinks too about saddling the mare - about fetching her out of the city and away - about the multitude of roads and footpaths winding through the Free Marches that he could be on even now.

The click of one of the stable door's latches draws his attention. And for a moment, Marcoulf blinks blearily through the dusty half light of the barn. The figure at the stall door resolves itself into a familiar shape.

Merrill.

His hand pauses. Marcoulf clears his throat.

"I'd be careful with that one. He's a temper."

Kain pats the dracolisk fondly, knowing she's generally even-tempered around others. So he has no concern over her behavior around a horse, at least. He shrugs, as he looks around the area.

"A few stray small animals running about on the ground, mostly, some birds... Though I guess it's probably a good thing that it's nothing too interesting." It would be just what they'd need, a demon or some other thrilling abomination to appear.

"No more dragons in the Bone Pit," Merrill says by way of agreement, laughing slightly and patting Honeysuckle's neck. She slows him a bit further, walking him in a circle so that she can stay close to Kain to talk.

"Though that was very exciting. You would have liked it."

"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."

Her focus on all the horses and other beasts, Merrill had completely missed Marcoulf. His voice makes her jump slightly, but then she laughs, turning to look at him. She lets the door open behind her, and the great grey stallion within takes a step forward. He dwarfs her, and Merrill doesn't so much as budge.

"Only sometimes," she laughs, and now she tilts her head back, looking up at the horse - who, in turn, snorts and sniffs her hair. "Mercoulf, meet Honeysuckle. Honeysuckle, Marcoulf."

Honeysuckle, of course, doesn't actually seem that interested; he's busy lipping the strands of Merrill's hair instead.

"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."

"I'm sure that I would have... You say dragons, it sounds as if you had an entire nest there to deal with?" Now that would have indeed been an exciting challenge, not only to deal with a high dragon, potentially, but also the young and others who might have been around. The amount of dragon scales alone would have made it worth it, but also facing such worthy opponents would have been thrilling. Dragons are more than mere hunting targets, after all.

He pats his dracolisk gently, easing her into a calm walking pace.

"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.

"Yup!" Cheerful, especially since it's over. "I'm surprised no one noticed sooner, actually. Honestly, how do you miss an entire High Dragon nesting?"

But that was Kirkwall for you, she supposed.

"It took us years to deal with."

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."

"That certainly doesn't sound like something that would be too swiftly dealt with. There was probably no one willing, before. It says something about your stubborn persistence that you managed to keep at it for all of that time." Kain says that in an admiring tone, because clearly to him "stubborn persistence" is a very good thing. But it's necessary, in a situation like that.

He looks around the area. "And now we're able to go about here freely, without too many threats." Aside from the usual, the occasional bear or something. Otherwise, it's not like there are dragons lurking around.

"For a while, they weren't sure they were there - just that miners kept disappearing. Apparently they were very stealthy dragons for a while." Merrill giggles at that, not quite able to keep the mental image of a dragon grabbing someone with claws over their mouth from her mind.

She nods, though, patting Honeysuckle again. "If any dragons start lurking around, you'll be the first person I tell. It is nice, though - helping make places safer."

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."

"Dragons and stealth... that's not something that often goes together." Yet, for some reason, he can see it too, and there's something darkly humorous about it, even if the outcome... wasn't so good for those who got snatched. Still, he has to also admit he's quite impressed by these stealth dragons. "That was their way of surviving, I suppose... although it was at great cost to the people living in the area."

He glances skyward thoughtfully and also nods. "Yes... please do let me know. I'll be glad to do all I possibly can."

"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."

A pause, characterized by the stillness of his hand over the saddle as much as it is by any shift in his expression. Then Marcoulf snorts. It's a sharp little noise - something very near to a laugh. "Andraste's grace, what do you even do with such a monstrous thing?"

Not the kindest words, but said with enough good humor to temper it as he resumes working the dirt out of the saddle's creases.

"He pulls my aravel," Merrill replies simply, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. She giggles a moment later though, turning to wrap her arms around Honeysuckle's neck and scratch along his mane. "He's also good to ride."

Despite the fact that Merrill looks like she needs to climb a ladder to mount him. He's certainly much larger than a halla, at any rate.

'What in Andraste's name is an aravel,' seems like a sensible follow up question, but he neglects to ask it. He's never much cared from horse drawn things - wagons or carriages or whatever Merrill is referring to -, and so cannot rouse any interest in it now. The horse though--

"I didn't know Dalish were much for riding. Where did you learn?"

"We don't tend to have horses," Merrill agrees, still scratching the line of thick hair. Honeysuckle seems pleased enough with it, shifting his head to help direct Merrill to more itchy spots. "But we ride halla, at times. Not as much, these days, but sometimes."

There's a little giggle as Honeysuckle snorts and Merrill presses a kiss to his neck. "Mal helped me fill in the gaps. Halla don't wear saddles or bridles, for starters."

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i should've been a cowboy

Riding

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guess who drafted this tag 600 years ago and then FORGOT TO POST IT

WHOOPS

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