WHO: Athessa, Madi, Lucien, Skull, and YOU!! WHAT: catch-all WHEN: mostly Satinalia and later WHERE: Kirkwall and The Gallows NOTES: post-murderhaus h/c is gonna go here
"Ugh," Kostos says, because who wants to be loved by a big smelly deer, and so on. But in the next breath he bites off a chunk of the apple and takes it from his mouth to hold in the flat of his hand beneath the hart's mouth.
His mouth is soft while he takes it. Kostos considers that for a moment, and touches one of his antlers while he chews—also velvety—and then says, "You're looking better."
"Thanks for noticing," she deadpans, tapping loose dirt off the currycomb and trading it for a stiff bristle brush. She starts at Stief's neck and the elk raises his chin when the brush scratches that sweet spot just there and he starts leaning with a friendly chuff sound.
"Good," Kostos says, in a tone that could just as easily mean he's suggesting good is how he always looks or saying that it's good he looks the same. But they mean same thing in the end. He's hot.
He bites off another piece of the apple to offer to a jealous horse in the next stall.
Athessa snorts, which prompts not only Stief but some other horse elsewhere in the stables to snort in response. Endearing.
She keeps on grooming the hart, brushing him down with the stiff brush, then a soft one, and checking his hooves to make sure nothing has gotten stuck between his hoof-toes. All that good animal care. And if Kostos isn't going to offer up further conversation than calling himself hot, she'll continue humming softly while she works.
Until, that is, she decides to say:
"Leander's the one that pushed me down the stairs last year."
He'd been enjoying her humming, but of course not kind enough to say so, while he picked a knot out of a nearby horse's mane. But he stops as soon as that sentence ends, head jerking around to look at her.
But, "What the fuck does that have to do with you?"
When he turns to look at her properly, he leaves the brush he'd been using on the horse suck on the knot, dangling. But the horse doesn't seem to mind.
It didn't make sense to her then, and it doesn't make sense to her now.
"He said someone knocked his friend down some stairs so he decided to return the favor," She lifts her hands in a I don't fuckin' know gesture and shakes her head. "You'd have to ask him about his fucked-up thought process."
That answers the question of whether Leander admitted to it or she deduced it somehow. But otherwise—what the fuck.
"I, uh," he says.
The words he's looking for are I'm sorry, but they're stored in a dark and dusty and barely-touched part of his brain, so he's going to need a minute. Meanwhile the horse behind him tosses its head, finally annoyed with the dangling brush tugging on its mane, and Kostos turns back to pull it free.
Athessa doesn't expect an apology from him, nor does she expect him to be so nonplussed. She cocks a brow at him when she glances up briefly from where she's arranging feed buckets for the animals.
"Don't strain yourself," she deadpans. Then, speaking to the bag of grain she's scooping from: "I broke his nose."
Invited to stop straining himself, Kostos does. The chance for an historic moment is gone. Instead he huffs a little—appreciative, amused, maybe a little introspective.
"I did that once," he says. "When we were teenagers."
"If there's anyone you should apologize to because of this it's Ilias."
She hefts two of the feed buckets and carries them past Kostos to the furthest two stalls, gives the horses there some affectionate scritches, and returns to grab two more buckets to distribute.
"But if you wanna get a drink just to get a drink, we can do that."
The face Kostos pulls makes clear there will be no apologizing to Ilias.
Probably.
Maybe later.
But in the meantime he's pulling a face, and then grudgingly saying, "Yes, fine." They can call it getting a drink just to get a drink. He'll know it's an apology drink in his heart.
Well, he has to wait until she's done pretending to be the stablemaster and making someone else's job easier, but Athessa figures he won't mind since he surely had other things to do here, himself. Once the horses and Stief the hart have their buckets, she starts to divvy up some bales of alfalfa for them all as well.
She also assumes he won't mind that she spends more breath talking to the animals than to him while she does this. Quiet mutterings, admonishments, and praise, but no more humming. For all she knows, he'd make fun of her for it.
"We haven't gone out for drinks in a while," she says, finally. "You still favor the same old dives?"
"Did ya split too many heels there?" For once she doesn't laugh at her own bad joke, because it's not even worth that much, that's how bad it is. Instead, she pauses and goes over the list of places she's no longer allowed, or places where her Bard training precedent would complicate things.
"Broad Beecham's is also a no-go, and they like me too much at the Nameless these days," The latter being a place that originally did have a name, but has a history of having its sign stolen. Eventually they stopped replacing it altogether and just accepted that they're better off without a name.
"How about that one in the warehouse district, you know the one."
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But, ultimately, she just nods.
"Sure, he'll probably love you forever for it."
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His mouth is soft while he takes it. Kostos considers that for a moment, and touches one of his antlers while he chews—also velvety—and then says, "You're looking better."
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"You look the same as ever."
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He bites off another piece of the apple to offer to a jealous horse in the next stall.
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She keeps on grooming the hart, brushing him down with the stiff brush, then a soft one, and checking his hooves to make sure nothing has gotten stuck between his hoof-toes. All that good animal care. And if Kostos isn't going to offer up further conversation than calling himself hot, she'll continue humming softly while she works.
Until, that is, she decides to say:
"Leander's the one that pushed me down the stairs last year."
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"What?"
He doesn't actually need it repeated.
"Why?"
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She puts the grooming tools back where they belong and steps out of the stall, brushing her hands off on her trousers.
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Well. True.
But, "What the fuck does that have to do with you?"
When he turns to look at her properly, he leaves the brush he'd been using on the horse suck on the knot, dangling. But the horse doesn't seem to mind.
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It didn't make sense to her then, and it doesn't make sense to her now.
"He said someone knocked his friend down some stairs so he decided to return the favor," She lifts her hands in a I don't fuckin' know gesture and shakes her head. "You'd have to ask him about his fucked-up thought process."
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"I, uh," he says.
The words he's looking for are I'm sorry, but they're stored in a dark and dusty and barely-touched part of his brain, so he's going to need a minute. Meanwhile the horse behind him tosses its head, finally annoyed with the dangling brush tugging on its mane, and Kostos turns back to pull it free.
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"Don't strain yourself," she deadpans. Then, speaking to the bag of grain she's scooping from: "I broke his nose."
Translation: so now we're even.
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"I did that once," he says. "When we were teenagers."
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"Did he deserve it?"
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He puts his horse brush back on the wall.
"Can I buy you something? A drink?"
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She hefts two of the feed buckets and carries them past Kostos to the furthest two stalls, gives the horses there some affectionate scritches, and returns to grab two more buckets to distribute.
"But if you wanna get a drink just to get a drink, we can do that."
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Probably.
Maybe later.
But in the meantime he's pulling a face, and then grudgingly saying, "Yes, fine." They can call it getting a drink just to get a drink. He'll know it's an apology drink in his heart.
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She also assumes he won't mind that she spends more breath talking to the animals than to him while she does this. Quiet mutterings, admonishments, and praise, but no more humming. For all she knows, he'd make fun of her for it.
"We haven't gone out for drinks in a while," she says, finally. "You still favor the same old dives?"
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He pets one of the horses' nose while she works, because he's just a useless nobleman turned Circle mage like that, and watches her, too.
"They don't want me back at the Split Heel. Otherwise—your choice."
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"Did ya split too many heels there?" For once she doesn't laugh at her own bad joke, because it's not even worth that much, that's how bad it is. Instead, she pauses and goes over the list of places she's no longer allowed, or places where her Bard training precedent would complicate things.
"Broad Beecham's is also a no-go, and they like me too much at the Nameless these days," The latter being a place that originally did have a name, but has a history of having its sign stolen. Eventually they stopped replacing it altogether and just accepted that they're better off without a name.
"How about that one in the warehouse district, you know the one."