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The Stables, Sunday Morning
Sunday, August 31st, 2025 12:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thatsmysword"So what d'you think, Pebbles?"
It had been a bit of a relief to find the stables two days ago. For a moment, Henry had feared that he might have to stall his horse in the dorm hallway, or some other untenable position, and that he would have to defend her from passing onlookers. Yes, she was an unsightly horse in any number of ways, but she'd been good to him the few days he'd had her. He was growing to be quite fond already.
And not just because she was the first horse he'd ever owned. (Did he own her? Or had Sir Radzig meant to loan her to him, and had he now accidentally stolen her? A troubling thought for another day.)
This was the second morning he'd gotten up early to go see her. He'd fed her, and now he was clumsily going over her with a brush, attempting to work away some of the muck she'd picked up on their ride to Ledetchko. "You know they have water that comes out of metal rods in the walls?" he said. "Ah, I suppose that's hardly important to you. Let alone the fancy privy. Must be easy, actually, being a horse. You just do your business as you go along."
He patted her on the neck. Should he use the brush on her mane, or did he need a comb? She tossed her head. Right, then.
"At least now we know we're not dead," he continued. "If we were, God or the Devil would have quite the odd sense of humor, moving us back and forth between this mad place and the bloody Rattay bathhouse, no? I don't think there'd be bathhouses and wine and bathmaids in Hell. Perhaps there should be in Heaven, though."
He swiped clumsily at her mane with the brush. "What would you want for an eternal paradise?" he said. "Just fresh grass and sunny skies? Or do horses dream of, I don't know, apples raining down from the sky and caretakers shaped like carrots so you can take a bite out of 'em any time they draw your ire?"
Pebbles let out a loud neigh.
"Oh, you like that, do you?" Henry said, patting her flank again. "Suppose I should watch my own arse then."
[[ open ]]
It had been a bit of a relief to find the stables two days ago. For a moment, Henry had feared that he might have to stall his horse in the dorm hallway, or some other untenable position, and that he would have to defend her from passing onlookers. Yes, she was an unsightly horse in any number of ways, but she'd been good to him the few days he'd had her. He was growing to be quite fond already.
And not just because she was the first horse he'd ever owned. (Did he own her? Or had Sir Radzig meant to loan her to him, and had he now accidentally stolen her? A troubling thought for another day.)
This was the second morning he'd gotten up early to go see her. He'd fed her, and now he was clumsily going over her with a brush, attempting to work away some of the muck she'd picked up on their ride to Ledetchko. "You know they have water that comes out of metal rods in the walls?" he said. "Ah, I suppose that's hardly important to you. Let alone the fancy privy. Must be easy, actually, being a horse. You just do your business as you go along."
He patted her on the neck. Should he use the brush on her mane, or did he need a comb? She tossed her head. Right, then.
"At least now we know we're not dead," he continued. "If we were, God or the Devil would have quite the odd sense of humor, moving us back and forth between this mad place and the bloody Rattay bathhouse, no? I don't think there'd be bathhouses and wine and bathmaids in Hell. Perhaps there should be in Heaven, though."
He swiped clumsily at her mane with the brush. "What would you want for an eternal paradise?" he said. "Just fresh grass and sunny skies? Or do horses dream of, I don't know, apples raining down from the sky and caretakers shaped like carrots so you can take a bite out of 'em any time they draw your ire?"
Pebbles let out a loud neigh.
"Oh, you like that, do you?" Henry said, patting her flank again. "Suppose I should watch my own arse then."
[[ open ]]