[Outside Dan will find her near the barn opening of the stables, sifting through a couple varieties of tack equipment and trying to determine which option would suit her animal best.
Perhaps stranger than the site itself is her attire, which looks distinctly more formal than her usual.]
[When he finds Evie there it's with a warm, genuine smile and a sneaked, brief hug around her middle after tapping her shoulder to announce his presence.]
Hey.
[He hasn't been this way before, save for in passing.]
[Regardless of her expected company Evelyn is caught entirely off-guard by the greeting, something between a squeak and a gasp escaping her at the embrace. Warmth, a scent not too far off from peppermint. Recognising the source she bats at Dan's hands while he pulls away, turning with a look that is trying its damnedest to be stern.]
You startled me! [It takes seconds to soften, as she smoothes the line of her jacket.] ...But thank you. It's- it's just my riding habit.
[He grins at her and seems not the least bit perturbed by her reaction to him, though he steps a couple of feet back to put some distance between them in an act that only just falls short of him outright sticking his tongue out at her.]
The noise y' made didn't give it away one bit. [Yes, he heard that, and he's not even going to pretend that he didn't.
He hooks his thumbs into the pockets of his trousers and rocks back slightly on his heels, that grin on his face not looking as if it's going anywhere any time soon.]
[He's teasing her and looks insufferably pleased with himself, something that Evelyn could try to quell and likely fail in the process. Dan is so often dedicated to getting a rise out of her that it is a fruitless effort to chastise for mischievous behaviour.]
Oh, stop it, [she sniffs, tucking a wayward curl back into her bun with a little pin.] You clearly misheard.
[Evelyn does look him up and down for a moment, intent on moving away from her own brief moment of humiliation and onto another subject.]
[Dan chuckles, tempering the grin down to a good-humoured smile as she looks him up and down. His clothes may change but the style rarely does. Heavy boots, dark jeans, a white vest with a half-unbuttoned blue shirt over the top is the style of the day, a faint scruff of stubble on his face to finish off. He'd be self-conscious, if it was really within his ability.]
I was. [He replies, a curious look going towards the stables.]
I mean, I could tease y' some more, but I reckon y'd prefer t' show me what I came here for.
[What he's wearing isn't normal for horseback riding, but it will do in a pinch. Evelyn isn't about to make him turn around and put on a jacket he'll probably hate (not that she hasn't considered the option). Taking another look at him that appears to be less speculative and more of an appraisal, she promptly turns on her heel and sets to the interior of the barn with purpose.
The actual stables inside each have a sturdy, locking opening as their front, spacious interiors and animals that regularly change out with the Mansion's whims provided one isn't used more often than not. Unlatching the top half of a Dutch door, Evelyn fumbles in her pocket for a handful of small, white cubes, and holds them out into the dim light.
A dark brown snout emerges first, and the head of the rest of the beast follows. The mare snuffles at the contents of Evelyn's palm, and she casts a look over her shoulder at Dan.]
[He follows her to the stable door and lingers there, leaning against the frame and watching her with far more obviousness than she had appraised him with. Introducing him to new foods is one thing, but different animals is something else entirely and he has no frame of reference to even imagine what she might lead out of that stall.
What it is.. is something entirely unstartling. He feels the instinctive twitch towards the weapon that he didn't bring with him but manages not to follow through with any kind of obvious movement, instead straightening up off the door and tilting his head slightly to one side, a puzzled look on his face.]
Huh... looks a li'l like a radstag doe.. just with the one head. [He muses aloud. The horse is far too graceful to compare it to something like a brahmin, but a radstag isn't something he'd ever attempt to ride on.
He approaches a few steps but hangs back, curious but wary. Unknown things don't have a record of being good in his books, but he tends towards ignoring that track record when Evie is involved.]
[Evelyn won't ask what a radstag doe is - presumably another creature malformed by the poison of Dan's world - but any ungulate could resemble a horse in some way or another. She stands between the animal and Dan, who loiters a few feet away and is understandably cautious. Pursing her lips and making a few kissing sounds at the mare she beckons it closer, and she happily eats the sugar while Evelyn strokes her nose.]
Her name is Aqila.
[In response, Aqila shakes her mane and noses at Evelyn's jacket for more sweets.]
And you can, yes. Here- [Secreted from another pocket, Evelyn pushes a few more cubes into one of Dan's hands.] Hold your palm out to her. She's headstrong, but very sweet.
[It's better not to ask, really, and he's finding the horse far nicer to look at than a radstag. Even the most perfectly formed one very obviously has two heads and he isn't sure what it is about radiation that makes things develop two heads but it's something that always strikes you as wrong, even if it's the only thing you've ever known.
He holds a hand up just in time to take the sugar cubes, curling his fingers around them to keep them from falling but quickly doing as she directs, holding his palm up flat.]
Sounds like someone I know. [The comment comes out in a low even voice, one of a person used to dealing with potentially skittish animals. When the horse lowers her head to the sugar, he gently touches the backs of two fingers to the bridge of her nose, stroking them downwards.]
[He takes to it well, something that doesn't really surprise Evelyn when he cultivates the same sort of approach she remembers seeing when they first met. Quiet, careful, but not undignified, and the horse is grateful for the new offering while Evelyn watches fondly, hand braced on Aqila's neck.
The calm in the stables is apparent even now, with a certain equine trying to get the last of the sugar off of Dan's fingers.]
Maybe you just have a way with mares.
[She smiles, raising her eyebrows before diverting her gaze to untangle a snag in the horse's mane.]
[He snorts softly, glancing up at her sideways as he continues running his fingers up and down the short hairs on the horse's nose. While not quite in time to catch her eyes he finds himself smiling, pressing his lips together in an effort to stifle it when his gaze drops again.]
Yeah, maybe I do.
[When the sugar has been thoroughly removed, he drops his hand and makes a soft clicking sound at the horse, achieved by clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth.] Or I just got a way wi' headstrong ladies. What d' y' think?
[A second conversation again, and one she didn't necessarily mean to broach. Her insides worming with the telltale sign of exercising caution, Evelyn picks apart the knot on Aqila's mane while the horse's nose bumps Dan's chest. In the silence she wonders if he can taste her sudden anxiety the way she can taste hay in the air.]
I wouldn't know, [Evelyn says airily, lifting one shoulder in a half-shrug.] I'm not headstrong at all.
[A diversionary tactic for reaching too far, without forethought, and she clears her throat before abandoning her clearly-feigned innocence.]
I should get the tack, I won't be riding her bareback. I can show you how to assemble it. Watch her, for a moment?
Sure you ain't. [Dan responds casually, bringing his hand up to stroke along Aqila's forehead.] Like a hubflower ain't pretty.
[But he lets it drop, as she seems to want to, ignoring the way that his own heart thuds briefly and how his mouth feels drier than the desert he comes from. He nods once in her direction, then clears his throat.]
Yeah, no problem. I reckon me an' her can get along jus' fine fer a moment.
[Determined to break from the awkwardness she has suddenly created before it stagnates, she rubs her fingers over Aqila's nose - and briefly over the back of Dan's hand - before moving past them and out of the stall. Down the corridor it feels as though her face has grown hot, stepping into the tack room she rubs a hand over her cheek and tries to keep from thinking exclusively about his crooked smile and instead what sort of bridle she should be acquiring.
A minute or two later Evelyn returns, suitably together with her arms full of leather. She slings the saddle over the lower half of the Dutch door and smiles at him again, tugged by curiosity.]
...what is a hubflower? I've never heard of it before. Is it pretty?
[While she's gone, he thinks about her. He pets the horse to keep her calm and thinks about how Evie looks, not in those riding clothes or a fancy evening dress or one of those long skirts that he mischievously taps against the backs of her legs with a long ruler when he finds her up a ladder, but just how she looks. It's her eyes, the way she smiles, everything.
Damn, he's in trouble.
When she comes back, he glances her way and flashes a smile.]
They're blue, an' they shimmer when the light hits 'em just right. Real pretty. [He scratches Aqila's nose lightly.] I'll get y' one.
[Evelyn acknowledges her trouble for what it is, for what it isn't, and summarily seeks to stifle it from smothering her, the way it always has. The way it always will.
Leaning up against the saddle she listens, wondering if the hubflower is as much like a blue lotus as it sounds...save for the bit about the incandescence. They've narrowly avoided another talk - and frankly, Evelyn isn't sure that Dan noticed it the way that she did or if he's just accommodating - which is a blessing. She doesn't expect a gift and the offer could be neglected; it's the thought that counts.]
We have a creeping plant called jasmine, with little white blossoms and a light scent. [Evelyn explains, smoothing a hand over Aqila's withers and reaching for a blanket.] It's usually the one I'm wearing.
[He'd noticed, but never thought to ask what name he could put to that scent that always followed her about. Only half his attention is on the horse now as he watches what Evie is doing, intent and sharp-eyed.]
Don't think anythin' that delicate would'a survived the War.
[He's seen pictures in books from time to time, and more since he got here, of small creatures and plants that he's never seen the like of before. In some of them, he'd found the building blocks of the kinds of monstrosities he was used to, but it was still hard to visualise a scorpion that small.]
Funny. Y'd think after two hundred years nature would be all over everythin'.. but it jus' didn't work out that way.
[It is easier to remain objective when she has something to keep her hands busy, settling the blanket just over Aqila's withers while the animal is distracted by Dan, hefting the saddle up next and adjusting the kneerolls, the pommel just behind the line of the shoulders. The particular nature of it is reassuring in the way that translations are: no surprises, a formula to be followed that is comforting in its simplicity.
Evelyn is acutely aware that Dan is watching her and concentrates harder on the task at hand.]
This is the saddle, [she states, pointing out the different parts to him.] The leathers, the stirrup irons, the skirt, seat and cantle. I set it over a blanket so it doesn't chafe her, and this large strap is the girth - it goes behind her elbows here. Tight, but enough space that you can fit two fingers between it and the horse.
[As Evelyn explains, she secures the cinching girth and looks to him.]
You can ride without a saddle, but it's not very comfortable.
Maybe. There's some people still around who remember, but.. old memories, y'know? A lot of 'em were kids.
[He makes another soft noise at the horse, thoroughly enjoying this introduction to yet another new thing. He pets the hair on her forehead and the bridge of her nose and rubs her neck now and then, chuckling each time she tries to investigate his hands or pockets for sweet things.
Mostly, though, he watches Evie. It's easy enough to take in what she's telling him, mental notes made of names, positions and measurements. He wonders if it's less comfortable for the horse or the rider to ride without a saddle, but reasons that it's likely to be both.]
...Which begs the question, now, how old is Dan? Evelyn has to wonder whether his world ages people faster - people in medieval times certainly weren't living past forty or fifty, if that, life was hard - but he doesn't seem altogether much older than herself. Mid-thirties? Forties? What does he remember?]
My mother taught me how to ride, but her ashāʾir - one of the Bedouin tribes, in the desert - have a different style of traveling by horseback. Traditional English riding is sidesaddle, rather than sitting astride. My grandmother didn't think it was very ladylike.
[She flashes a quick, self-deprecating smile and feeds pieces of home-life to him, in the hope he can see some similarity with parentage. Safiyah was much wilder than the Carnahan family anticipated her being, and Evelyn inherited a great deal of her mother. Shifting to pick up the bridle, she moves to Dan's side and gently nudges him with her hip to make room.]
Don't see the point in hobblin' your skill for the sake of bein' ladylike.
[Besides, riding side-saddle as far as he can grasp it just sounds like you're asking to be knocked off your horse.
He shifts to one side when she bumps him, a slight grin ticking the corners of his lips upwards. There's a question that he doesn't ask and he stays close, one hand resting on the side of the horse's neck. Though she's close by he doesn't move far, almost near enough to touch her arm with his own.]
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whats a horse.
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Come outside to the stables. Past the orchard.
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Perhaps stranger than the site itself is her attire, which looks distinctly more formal than her usual.]
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Hey.
[He hasn't been this way before, save for in passing.]
Y' look nice.
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You startled me! [It takes seconds to soften, as she smoothes the line of her jacket.] ...But thank you. It's- it's just my riding habit.
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[He grins at her and seems not the least bit perturbed by her reaction to him, though he steps a couple of feet back to put some distance between them in an act that only just falls short of him outright sticking his tongue out at her.]
The noise y' made didn't give it away one bit. [Yes, he heard that, and he's not even going to pretend that he didn't.
He hooks his thumbs into the pockets of his trousers and rocks back slightly on his heels, that grin on his face not looking as if it's going anywhere any time soon.]
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Oh, stop it, [she sniffs, tucking a wayward curl back into her bun with a little pin.] You clearly misheard.
[Evelyn does look him up and down for a moment, intent on moving away from her own brief moment of humiliation and onto another subject.]
...I believe you were wondering what a horse is.
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I was. [He replies, a curious look going towards the stables.]
I mean, I could tease y' some more, but I reckon y'd prefer t' show me what I came here for.
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[What he's wearing isn't normal for horseback riding, but it will do in a pinch. Evelyn isn't about to make him turn around and put on a jacket he'll probably hate (not that she hasn't considered the option). Taking another look at him that appears to be less speculative and more of an appraisal, she promptly turns on her heel and sets to the interior of the barn with purpose.
The actual stables inside each have a sturdy, locking opening as their front, spacious interiors and animals that regularly change out with the Mansion's whims provided one isn't used more often than not. Unlatching the top half of a Dutch door, Evelyn fumbles in her pocket for a handful of small, white cubes, and holds them out into the dim light.
A dark brown snout emerges first, and the head of the rest of the beast follows. The mare snuffles at the contents of Evelyn's palm, and she casts a look over her shoulder at Dan.]
This is a horse.
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What it is.. is something entirely unstartling. He feels the instinctive twitch towards the weapon that he didn't bring with him but manages not to follow through with any kind of obvious movement, instead straightening up off the door and tilting his head slightly to one side, a puzzled look on his face.]
Huh... looks a li'l like a radstag doe.. just with the one head. [He muses aloud. The horse is far too graceful to compare it to something like a brahmin, but a radstag isn't something he'd ever attempt to ride on.
He approaches a few steps but hangs back, curious but wary. Unknown things don't have a record of being good in his books, but he tends towards ignoring that track record when Evie is involved.]
... Can I touch 'er?
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Her name is Aqila.
[In response, Aqila shakes her mane and noses at Evelyn's jacket for more sweets.]
And you can, yes. Here- [Secreted from another pocket, Evelyn pushes a few more cubes into one of Dan's hands.] Hold your palm out to her. She's headstrong, but very sweet.
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He holds a hand up just in time to take the sugar cubes, curling his fingers around them to keep them from falling but quickly doing as she directs, holding his palm up flat.]
Sounds like someone I know. [The comment comes out in a low even voice, one of a person used to dealing with potentially skittish animals. When the horse lowers her head to the sugar, he gently touches the backs of two fingers to the bridge of her nose, stroking them downwards.]
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The calm in the stables is apparent even now, with a certain equine trying to get the last of the sugar off of Dan's fingers.]
Maybe you just have a way with mares.
[She smiles, raising her eyebrows before diverting her gaze to untangle a snag in the horse's mane.]
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Yeah, maybe I do.
[When the sugar has been thoroughly removed, he drops his hand and makes a soft clicking sound at the horse, achieved by clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth.] Or I just got a way wi' headstrong ladies. What d' y' think?
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I wouldn't know, [Evelyn says airily, lifting one shoulder in a half-shrug.] I'm not headstrong at all.
[A diversionary tactic for reaching too far, without forethought, and she clears her throat before abandoning her clearly-feigned innocence.]
I should get the tack, I won't be riding her bareback. I can show you how to assemble it. Watch her, for a moment?
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[But he lets it drop, as she seems to want to, ignoring the way that his own heart thuds briefly and how his mouth feels drier than the desert he comes from. He nods once in her direction, then clears his throat.]
Yeah, no problem. I reckon me an' her can get along jus' fine fer a moment.
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[Determined to break from the awkwardness she has suddenly created before it stagnates, she rubs her fingers over Aqila's nose - and briefly over the back of Dan's hand - before moving past them and out of the stall. Down the corridor it feels as though her face has grown hot, stepping into the tack room she rubs a hand over her cheek and tries to keep from thinking exclusively about his crooked smile and instead what sort of bridle she should be acquiring.
A minute or two later Evelyn returns, suitably together with her arms full of leather. She slings the saddle over the lower half of the Dutch door and smiles at him again, tugged by curiosity.]
...what is a hubflower? I've never heard of it before. Is it pretty?
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Damn, he's in trouble.
When she comes back, he glances her way and flashes a smile.]
They're blue, an' they shimmer when the light hits 'em just right. Real pretty. [He scratches Aqila's nose lightly.] I'll get y' one.
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Leaning up against the saddle she listens, wondering if the hubflower is as much like a blue lotus as it sounds...save for the bit about the incandescence. They've narrowly avoided another talk - and frankly, Evelyn isn't sure that Dan noticed it the way that she did or if he's just accommodating - which is a blessing. She doesn't expect a gift and the offer could be neglected; it's the thought that counts.]
We have a creeping plant called jasmine, with little white blossoms and a light scent. [Evelyn explains, smoothing a hand over Aqila's withers and reaching for a blanket.] It's usually the one I'm wearing.
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[He'd noticed, but never thought to ask what name he could put to that scent that always followed her about. Only half his attention is on the horse now as he watches what Evie is doing, intent and sharp-eyed.]
Don't think anythin' that delicate would'a survived the War.
[He's seen pictures in books from time to time, and more since he got here, of small creatures and plants that he's never seen the like of before. In some of them, he'd found the building blocks of the kinds of monstrosities he was used to, but it was still hard to visualise a scorpion that small.]
Funny. Y'd think after two hundred years nature would be all over everythin'.. but it jus' didn't work out that way.
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[It is easier to remain objective when she has something to keep her hands busy, settling the blanket just over Aqila's withers while the animal is distracted by Dan, hefting the saddle up next and adjusting the kneerolls, the pommel just behind the line of the shoulders. The particular nature of it is reassuring in the way that translations are: no surprises, a formula to be followed that is comforting in its simplicity.
Evelyn is acutely aware that Dan is watching her and concentrates harder on the task at hand.]
This is the saddle, [she states, pointing out the different parts to him.] The leathers, the stirrup irons, the skirt, seat and cantle. I set it over a blanket so it doesn't chafe her, and this large strap is the girth - it goes behind her elbows here. Tight, but enough space that you can fit two fingers between it and the horse.
[As Evelyn explains, she secures the cinching girth and looks to him.]
You can ride without a saddle, but it's not very comfortable.
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[He makes another soft noise at the horse, thoroughly enjoying this introduction to yet another new thing. He pets the hair on her forehead and the bridge of her nose and rubs her neck now and then, chuckling each time she tries to investigate his hands or pockets for sweet things.
Mostly, though, he watches Evie. It's easy enough to take in what she's telling him, mental notes made of names, positions and measurements. He wonders if it's less comfortable for the horse or the rider to ride without a saddle, but reasons that it's likely to be both.]
Y've been doin' this a long time.
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[A lot of them were children.
...Which begs the question, now, how old is Dan? Evelyn has to wonder whether his world ages people faster - people in medieval times certainly weren't living past forty or fifty, if that, life was hard - but he doesn't seem altogether much older than herself. Mid-thirties? Forties? What does he remember?]
My mother taught me how to ride, but her ashāʾir - one of the Bedouin tribes, in the desert - have a different style of traveling by horseback. Traditional English riding is sidesaddle, rather than sitting astride. My grandmother didn't think it was very ladylike.
[She flashes a quick, self-deprecating smile and feeds pieces of home-life to him, in the hope he can see some similarity with parentage. Safiyah was much wilder than the Carnahan family anticipated her being, and Evelyn inherited a great deal of her mother. Shifting to pick up the bridle, she moves to Dan's side and gently nudges him with her hip to make room.]
Last piece.
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[Besides, riding side-saddle as far as he can grasp it just sounds like you're asking to be knocked off your horse.
He shifts to one side when she bumps him, a slight grin ticking the corners of his lips upwards. There's a question that he doesn't ask and he stays close, one hand resting on the side of the horse's neck. Though she's close by he doesn't move far, almost near enough to touch her arm with his own.]
Last piece, huh. 'S that the technical term?
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