He is not for sale (Amalric)

[Faerydae Moriarty]

The sun hung in the sky, its light stretching out as far as the eye could see as it put the world into an eternal hug of warmth for the time being. By the look of how the shadows from the trees fell, she would be willing to estimate that it was about mid afternoon. Time did not matter though as she sat on the near edge of the wood. Where she planned to go would not take very long and the hides were almost done. Honestly, the young maiden found herself grateful that she had been blessed enough to be able to figure out to skin a rabbit, but after countless times of seeing her father’s huntsmen do it before her very eyes, these things almost became second nature purely by observations and she should be thankful for it since it provided her a way of living in which she could survive off of. One would never think of how popular rabbit furs could be, but they were the poor man’s deer hide, and she was always picky about the rabbit furs that she chose to keep and sell.

A faint whinny could be heard from the wood, signaling to her that the white horse was coming back from his exploration. Her ice blue eyes looked back towards the furs now, stretched out on make shift bindings that allowed the under skin of the fur to soak up the sun. Her hand reached out now, her fingertips brushing up against the smooth and soft leather now before her other hand felt the fur. They were ready. She took out her small blade and began to cut them free, the end totaling in six rabbit furs, “That should certainly be enough,” she commented to herself out loud, a habit that she had picked up ever since being in exile. One would think that being in exile and a wander would mean that the person would be awfully lonely, but not Faerydae Moriarty. After the deaths of those most cherished to her hearts, the wild horse that made its way into her heart had replaced the two that had perished at the stake.

One by one, she draped the furs over her arm. They were mixtures of colors and textures, of browns, grays, and tans. They were soft to the touch now and she was certain that the bar keeper’s wife would certainly want at least three, as she always did. Faerydae never questioned as to what the fur was used for, but considering how quickly the woman went through them, she found herself quite certain that she did not want to know. After she gathered up the furs, the young maiden quickly kicked dirt up and watched it hit the last of the dying flames of her fire and it quickly distinguished and quickly made sure that there was nothing left of the flame. It had been then when the white horse broke through the trees and came out to join her now, dipping his head in a hello. A smile graced her lips as she stared at Silver now, he looked ready to go already and yet, he had just gotten here. Although, the horse had always been that way, it was amazing how he put up with her.

Although, she was certain Silver and her shared a special bond. He came upon her on the day where she had fallen in the mud, caked in dirt and sweat and ready to end her life. While he could have just continued on his way or simply hidden, the wild horse had done something unnerving and approached her and nudged her hand, almost forcing her to move the blade away from her throat before walking away. It was not until he turned his head back and stared at her did she believe that he was telling her to not end her life, despite what others said. From there, she followed him and he accepted her, and they had been together ever since. Four years of creating a bond like no other: he protected her, allowed her to sleep with him for warmth, and allowed her to feel as if she had wings. There were times when Faerydae found herself looking into those dark brown eyes of his, and she felt certain that the horse would die for her, and she for him.

Silver tossed his head, throwing his knotted mane about. It was time to leave and go head towards the tavern and inn. Grabbing her back, she swung it over her shoulder and gathered up the rabbit furs in her arm as she walked out of the woods now and headed down the curving path, and the white horse trotted after her, dropping down to a walk to stay by her side and to not leave her side. The walk would not take long, but merely a mile or so, for they had planned everything out. The only dread that came from this was that they might run into people along the roads, but alas, everything seemed rather empty, which was quite odd for they were traveling the roads of Camelot, while not heading towards the main city, but to stay long the outskirts of the smaller villages. Perhaps Uther’s iron fist got the best of everybody, but even she knew better than to make such underestimate a kingdom’s people, after all, she did her own. With her thoughts elsewhere, the walk for her and Silver seemed to pass by quickly, and it was not until a snort escaped the white horse did she realize where they were.

There sat the tavern and inn, and it appeared to be crowed as always. There were many of horses tied up, and some of them were quite noble looking and fine destriers. Although, this did not come to a shock to her, for they were simply a trademark of any knight or king, and they were easy to come by in the kingdom of Camelot these days either because of treaties or they were in their own quests. She walked to the front of the door now, and like always, Silver took a step onto the stairs, the wood creaking beneth him, “You cannot come inside,” Faerydae told the white stallion now, who simply snorted in defeat and backed up, standing away from the tied up horses, but his eyes rested on the door as his companion walked in now. The taven was full of the usual smells: beer, ale, men, and dogs alike. It always seemed to be the same fair with girls there to serve them. No sooner than her enterance, the owner’s wife called out, “Oh Dae, there you are! I see you have brought rabbit furs again.”

A smile sat on her lips as she maneuvered her way around men to come over towards the counter and displayed the furs, “Are any to your liking?” she asked her now. With greedy hands, the owner’s wife inspected each skin and sure enough, there were four to her likings for trading and Faerydae took all that she could get and began to bargain. In the end, she ended up with enough provisions to last her a while and Faerydae was honestly thankful for it. Trading was always better than selling, she often thought she got more out of it, and in these times, real money was hard for people to part with, especially with taxes around and she was quite understanding of that. Perhaps that was the main reason why the trades of her rabbit furs had become so popular, for she needed things that people could do away with. As she turned to leave, the owner’s wife called out, “Oh, Dae dearie, is Silver out there with you?” She simply nodded her head and the other woman reached under the counter and tossed her an apple, “Give that to him for me.”

Faerydae simply laughed, “You are too kind to him,” she replied and ventured back outside now where Silver waited. Upon seeing her come out of the door, his ears perked up and quickly, the white stallion trotted over, his neck arching as he stopped to greet her now, “Look what I have for you,” she mumbled softly to the white horse and held out the apple. His head moved forward, his muzzle brushing up against the ripe fruit before his teeth bit into the skin and tore the apple right in half to eat now. It did not take him long to finish the apple, and when Silver did, he nosed her hand, looking for more. Laughter escaped Faerydae and she simply rolled her eyes and then held the horse’s face in her hands, bringing his eyes to her sight level, “You are such a greedy horse, you know that?” She asked with smile, and his only reply was blowing hot air in her face.

Setting: Eh..whenever, sometime during one of the seasons I suppose XD
Time of Day: Mid afternoon
Tags: Amalric
Notes: This is a lot to read XD I'm sorry that I got carried away.

[Amalric Maulesel]

Amalric shielded his eyes with his hands and stupidly looked up at the sun. He and his troop of five were ambling through a gentle wood. The men had seen little deer, but rabbits were aplenty. Chunks of smoked rabbit and deer flesh hung from the packs of the mule, and they swayed on the twine to the mule's gait like a delicious pendulum. The animal was a strong little fellow. By now, it had developed thick haunches and beefy legs since it had left the royal mule stables in Landgraben. It had also finally lost the habit of biting the leather harness of its pack - the nervous habit worn away as the king increased the pace of the hunt.

The king rode on his brown Percheron fully dressed in Griffin hunting armor. Two hunting dogs loped at his feet, noses stuffed into the twigs and wet leaves. Sir Münche road a half a horse behind.

"Sire, there is a small village ahead," he said. He was holding the map today. "What do you make of it?"

"It is too early to halt now. Look, it is only noon. Best to press on," he concluded briskly and he pushed Gehrtie on under her two layers of lucky chain mail and a leather dressing over that embroidered with the details of mules.

He looked everywhere through the thin slits of his helm - noting all the fallen trees, disturbed areas in the dirt, only the noise of the birds not frightened away from the giant, clambering duo and their nosy dogs. Once more, he went on ahead of his men. He often went at his own pace and ignored theirs as an old grandpa dog keeps going even when the pups he's babysitting stop and play. Besides, their horses were more lightly dressed than their King's and they would soon catch up with him after a moment's rest. Like this, they continued through the forest until they reached the outskirts of the village. Here, the men slowed down while the Amalric went onward. They usually did not travel through a village they did not plan on staying in.

"Is something the matter, Sire?"

"She's close," he shouted back while steering his horse onward. "I can sense her. She's not far now." They hadn't seen the Griffin in two weeks. Neither had he found any trace of Griffin droppings or her molting feathers. He swore he would find the trail again. Soon, Gehrtie clopped on cobbled roads and his men followed behind him in single file. They were a queer group to behold. Their leader kept his head tilted to look up at the sky, and so, he seemed as if he might fall off his mount at any moment. Behind him, the Landgraben knights kept the hounds close on their leashes. The dogs still hadn't gotten their heads out of hunting. They peed on the signposts as if they were trees, but were yanked on by the horses before they could finish.

Amalric continued to look into the sky and luckily, Gehrtie had a mind for the path,. The road was straight, and she would follow it loyally until her rider directed otherwise. They passed rows of quaint cottages, with little gardens out in front. Brooms leaned on the outside of many a doorway, probably the country homes of bourgeoisie merchants or local artisans. It was a quiet neighborhood, and whether the people were sneaking peaks out their windows or taking their afternoon naps depended on the politics of the kingdom. As they neared the town center, they were confronted with a humble square with a drinking fountain, bread shop, smithy, and tavern. These humble buildings displaying the same goods every village needs no matter what country one is in.

Amalric would have walked right on through, ambling like a surreal cowboy back into the forest. Gehrtie just went on and on, hooves like a toy monkey's cymbals. Amalric just started at the sky thinking about the Griffin and what she must be doing right now like some forlorn lover. He thought of the white griffin droppings and the piles of bones they sometimes coughed up as owls do. He had a few griffin dropping with him, in fact. They were preserved in one of the pouches that bounced on Gehrtie's saddle also in time to the mule's smoked meat. He wished he could meet some fresh droppings.

The tavern's fountain was an old device. He turned Gehrtie to it from the sky in act of stubbornness. He was tired of thinking of the Griffin. If he thought of her, he would never get his mind back into the hunt. He had to keep his eyes open for signs - and one can't see Griffin tracks in the sky no matter how much they travel through it. So, he had to keep Gehrtie refreshed, as well as the horses of the men. The fountain was connected to a water trough, where several steeds had been tied to drink. Another horse was also there. This horse was untied and unsaddled, standing off to the side from the other horses like it didn't trust the water they drank. Amalric twisted in his saddle to face Sir Münche, while pointing at the stray horse.

"What is this?" he said quickly. "A horse walking about the town? What kind of place is this?"

"The others are tied up though."

"That does not explain the white one," Amalric said. He tried leaning forward on Gehrtie, making flicking motions with his wrists to see if the horse would shy away, but it just stared at him calmly as if it were in a meadow. Gehrtie seemed thirsty and he soon stopped and paid more attention to her. She was happy enough to prance to the drinking trough, but Amalric stubborn Amalric kept her away and continued to discuss the curiosity with his knight.

"This is not natural," Amalric concluded.

"Perhaps it is wild and wandered into town," Sir Münche suggested.

"It is too fat," Amalric replied. Indeed, it had a healthy girth to its belly that seemed to glow like the moon. Breaking away his interest, Amalric finally lead his horse to water while his men wavered and gaped at the white horse swishing his tail now and nibbling at the weeds growing between the cobblestones. The dogs looked at it silently too, and a few laid down despite the energy bred into their blood. When he had finished fixing his mare, he twisted off his helmet with a smacking pop. He trundled over to his men and his dogs, who now stood in a messy pile watching the horse as well-behaved children at their favorite zoo animal exhibit.

"What are you, in love?" Amalric said while looking again at the horse and admiring its body. Sir Münche didn't really answer him. For a moment, they were silent. Think of how modern guys might look at a sports car and you'll understand their lust.

Then, interrupting their shameless gaze, a woman popped out of the tavern, nimbly climbing down its two steps. She strode in an easy prance, almost like a horse's canter, to the white beast. She had long, braided platinum blond hair and pale skin tanned only with the dust of no recent bath. She looked, in fact, very similar to the working-class women of Landgraben. Ahh! But she wore rabbit. Amalric nudged Sir Münche.

"She wears rabbits, look," he said hushed.

"I see, I see," the knight said. They paused, watching the horse rise up from his grazing and brighten at the appearance of the lady She touched him easily, the creature drawn to her. Like a magician pulling a coin from a fair lady's ear, she presented the lovely horse and apple, and while it ate, she cooed precious, private words into its ears. "She must be of the same tradition!" Sir Münche gasped. "Without a doubt!"

"We are lucky today," Amalric said, kissing the iron of his helmet. "Hold this," he then ordered, shoving the piece up and Sir Münche promptly relieved it from him. They believed this lady to be one of those witches that wooed horses and to sell them for a living. They were a rare kind of woman to stumble across and they used more complicated potions than the average love dope to secure the heart of a beast whose ancestors might take a thousand years to domesticate. They wore rabbit hide as proof that they could lure the shiest creatures to their doom. Amalric rubbed the dirt out of his hair.

"How do I look?" he asked.

"You look fine," Sir Münche hurriedly whispered as if they were hunting a animal that might run away if it noticed them. "Just be careful. She could be something else."

Straightening up, Amalric approached the duo who were now mushing their faces together in some sort of magical bonding ritual. He walked very slowly, for he feared the love spell might have some effect on him. Still, he was certain the magic cast on animals was entirely different from that cast on humans.

But of course, in all reality, what did he know?

"This is quite a well-built horse! Do you think it could carry my weight?" he interrupted, speaking as if he were at a horse market. He waited, expecting a flattering exaggeration of the horses greatness in all qualities. You know how bargaining begins: a compliment, some small talk on the merchandise, and then a casual estimation of how much the owner would let it go for. Amalric was confident he would get what he wanted and he struck the smile of a polite potential costumer. He was a king, after all, and he had a healthy sum on him hidden in the folds of the carrier mule.

(NOTES) never apologize for long posts. like seriously, faery, i'll keep up with you :] also, hope what i wrote about silver was okay with you. I read you npc description of him to get the gist... this was fun to code, too, lol.
(TAGGED) Faerydae Moriarty

[Faerydae Moriarty]

Upon her approaching of the horse, the fair haired maiden did not realize that she was being watched by a group of men, on the other hand, Silver had. They had been quite the usual of sorts that he had run into prior to Faerydae. They thought him beautiful and wished to use him as a mount for their war affairs or merely a trophy to brag about, of course though, that meant that they would have to catch him first, and that was something that they never had a chance at doing. For the most part though, he simply ignored these silly men, they proved to be no harm to him. They hardly approached him and admired him from afar. The most that had happened was the man in steel flicked his war steed’s reins towards him in quite manner, but he had done nothing but stand there and stare at him lazily. There was no need to flee, and even if there was, Silver would have made a commotion and tried to enter the tavern, for he would never leave his companion.

Perhaps, she was oblivious to the men, for they did not interest her. She was at that point in life now, she realized, that after everything, she thought she found more love in a horse than she ever would a man. Maybe, that was how it would be until the day that she died. Her hand ran over the white horse’s large face, playing with his forelock at first before it traveled down the bridge and already, she saw Silver relaxing, his eyes fluttering close in content as he let loose a low wicker. Touching his muzzle, a smile came to Faerydae’s face. It was always so soft and tender, and nice to her fingertips where they met. Thoughts of crushed velvet came to her mind, but it was far smoother and more pleasing to the skin and a part of a wild animal that one should feel honored if they allowed you so near to touch. She leaned into the white horse a little, resting her forehead up against his and their eyes met. His warm amber eyes with her ice blue ones, and a smile came to her face. There were times when she thought that she could hear her thoughts.

Of course, Faerydae was not a silly girl, for she knew what her horse was. There had been many of times when she heard people whisper of Silver as they walked into villages, and even stories that she heard of as a little girl had made sense. Her horse was of the Elder breed, she was most certain of it, and a lot of other people were as well. White horses were often a rarity in Camelot, which was mostly over run with grays and browns, so he often proved to be the envy of people. After all, why should a nomad have such a beautiful horse? Many people thought it wasted that he traveled with her and not sit in a royal barn where he would never be happy and often times, she thought that ironic for people seemed to never realize who she was. Although, perhaps living on one’s own and having nothing but a horse for company might do something for you, “If you were a Horse Lord, I would be in your herd,” she murmured slightly, running her hand over his face between the eye and the muzzle now and Silver simply stared at her.

After a moment though, he dipped his head ever so slightly and pulled his head free of her grasp in a gentle manner but he did not do anything, waiting to see if she would say anything, as if waiting for her to say way. Her blue eyes remained on the white horse for a moment, but a smile rested on her lips. She wished she knew the tongue of horses, it would be so much easier to understand his actions sometimes, “For you are a brave and noble horse.” That did it for him, a gleeful whinny escaped Silver as he tossed his head slightly before brushing his muzzle against the top of her fair hair before pressing it up against her cheek in a kiss. Laughter escaped Faerydae as she allowed her lips to brush up against the velvety skin of his muzzle and he blew hot air back at her, showing her respect and love as always. Silver took another step, attempting to play now and nudged under her arms as if to get a hug, and while she would normally comply, she found herself distracted now for she had finally noticed the men, but even more than that, one was approaching them.

Her ice blue gaze simply watched the approaching man for a moment before her gaze looked past him and at the others. There were several of them now, perhaps a hunting party for something. On one of the pack mules, she could just make out a royal seal, but of whose, she could not be sure of. There were many distant lands beyond Albion that other kingdoms have only just now started reaching out to because of their fine resources. Her eyes remain on the men though as their gazes were in their general direction, but not at her, but at her horse. There was one other man who seemed to be watching the approaching one in anticipation now, as if waiting for something to happen or fearing that she might do something to his friend. This man was unlike the others to her as well, perhaps a trusted friend of the man in the heavy suit of armor, or a loyal knight to his king, “Are we in danger,” she asked in a hushed whisper to the white horse besides her. Silver did not shy away in fear, for he recognized the man, the one who flicked his reins.

A snort escaped the stallion now and he shook his head ever so slightly, tossing his wild mane so that it set oddly upon his neck and giving him a more unruly look now. Faerydae’s eyes never once did leave the man for she studied him. The way he walked with pride and confidence, there might as well not be a weak bone in his body. His features were rather broad, but well built and structured along with dirty blond hair, and sharp hawk-like eyes. His armor was heavy, and perhaps the heaviest that she had ever seen and that came from her knowledge of the armor she had seen in Camelot and Balor. Either way, she could imagine that a fair deal of women in his kingdom probably swooned over him. She took a step back now, uncertain of what he could possibly want where as Silver took a step forward to inspect closer. His ears were neutral, occasionally twitching as his amber eyes stared at the man now, his tail swished in occasion, as if waiting in challenge and waiting for a standoff to happen, even though that was far from the case.

Although, what happened next was something that neither she nor the horse had been expecting, “This is quite a well-built horse! Do you think it could carry my weight?”

Faerydae just stared back at him, as well did Silver before the pair glanced at each other now, as if silently talking to each other. It was clear to her that he was clearly from a different territory by his accent alone, but that was not what had startled her, but underlining premise that his question sported it. And, after that, he topped it off with a smile, and it only made her wish to punch him in the face. It was one thing to inquire that her companion was for sale, but it was another entirely different thing to be under the assumption that she would sell Silver. In her mind though, he was not even hers to sell, for she did not use a bridle nor a saddle with him, the white horse was as free as he was now as he was when he first ran into in the woods. He was free to come and go as he pleased, but he chose to stay. After the first initial shock of what had just happen, it was Silver who had broken the silence that had plagued them for a few seconds.

He tossed his head and let out a gleeful whinny, as if laughing at such a question. The fair haired maiden just glanced at the stallion now, the hint of a smile resting on her features at Silver’s actions before she glanced back at the armored man now, “He can certainly bear your weight, but I would not count you being on him for too long, he does not like to be slowed down.” Honestly, she was not sure as to why this man thought that he could ride the white horse; Silver clearly did not use any tack that he could see of. Faerydae’s eyes glanced past the man though and to the horses at the trough, a large Percheron mare stood there. There was no doubt in her mind that the mare belonged to this gentleman here, for the horse wore two layers of chainmail plus an extra padding of leather. If she was a horse, she certainly would not enjoy that and Silver would put up a fuss, “You already have a horse,” Faerydae glanced back towards the man now, “And surely, you would not want a stallion from the wild to be near your mare, my lord.”

In other words, Silver was not for sale and she hoped that this man would not be stubborn enough to clash heads with her.

Notes: Bwahahaha. Well, after seeing your post, I think it is I who will be needding to keep up with you. Never fear though, challenge is accepted =D And you did a lovely job with Silver, and played wrote him perfectly. Haha, I bet that code was fun...funning is always exciting.
Tags: Amalric

[Amalric Maulesel]

Amalric was certain he had impressed the animal witch! Just look at the way her eyes widened, impressed like a poor peasant suddenly smother with extraordinary luck. After all, she did not wave her fingers about with her voodoo magic. She did not turn him into a pig or a snail or a pile of dung. All was good so far she stood speechless. He turned to look over his shoulder and flash a nervous smile at Sir Münche as a nervous guy might to his wing-man when his cheesy pickup line actually, seriously worked.

But as she got further into her spiel, rushing fluently through her words, he picked up that the thought that he might break the stallions back with all that armor. And then she continued a little faster and his smile deflated and he shifted in his suit into something that tried to stand up straighter. When people talked quickly to Amalric in Camelot's language, he can only understand tone of voice and body language instead of actual words. Sir Münche often has had to nudge him to shake hands or bow a good-bye. So the well-meaning, albeit spoiled, king felt a little threatened at this point. His eyes flicked to his hands. Yep, still hands. Yeah, he had a horse. He had a whole heard of horses. There were donkeys mixed in, and some sheep, and a gaggle of geese, plus some dogs. This wasn't a big deal to him, but now he felt like it was. You know how men get. When you tell them they can't have something, they just stupidly, pointlessly, almost insultingly try harder.

“And surely, you would not want a stallion from the wild to be near your mare, my lord,” she finished, really, just trying to be reasonable. Amalric lifted a to-the-contrary finger. Rubbed his upper lip, putting the words together.

"He will be the stud of my finest herd. He can be wild, that's perfectly fine, if that would make him happy," he said. What exactly was Amalric's interpretation of the word wild? He learned through connotation at an inn he stayed at, you could say. Now there's a long story. Perhaps long enough to get my word count high enough! Amalric often stops at inns and this particular one was filled with women, head to foot. Sir Tollkühn, the youngest of his fiver troop, had dragged them to the lodge. He, apparently, was friends with one of the girls and he was set on visiting her hostel for the night to reminisce. Amalric hadn't minded. He was tired and all he wanted at this point was eat, get drunk, and sleep his throat sore.

But all the women had made Amalric uncomfortable. They would lean on his arms, tickle his ears, and when he turned around, they would not acknowledge it. He found it odd that so many people could bump into him and not apologize or excuse themselves. In the candlelight, he hunched over his beer with the circle of men he had gathered around him to talk of sport and hunting with, but time and time again, the ladies would come and lean over and listen. He knew they couldn't really relate when the tries to join the conversation. One finger flicking mess of curves surprised him, speaking of the aggression of the wild boar - that they could kill a dog in a single throw - but she still didn't really know what she was talking about because she went on to talk about how they breath poison and can smell blood a mile away.

Now, inns are the same wherever you may go, and even today, they haven't changed much. I'll probably replicating these scenes in all my thread,and it'll be a huge pain to describe them differently over and over again. But this inn will be easy to describe differently because it was not really an inn. It was a brothel. Amalric had not been to a brothel before. Besides the women, it looked very much like an inn to him. There were animal heads, large fireplaces, tough, motherly, old ladies serving drinks. Just these giggling, also drunk, girls with tight pink bodices and scooping neck lines.

Soon they were sitting on laps, squeezing cheeks, causally leaning a shoulder on a chest. Amalric didn't really know what was going on, but he kept Sir Münche and Sir Tollkühn beside him and wouldn't talk as much as usual. Even with the alcohol, he judged behind his mug. But when both his men left him, even a happy dog face painted on Sir Münche, Amalric decided to get up too. Suddenly, a lonely dame wrapped her lacy arm under his, intertwining their fingers.

"Let me take you to your bed, sire. You must be tired," she whispered to the poor guy's shoulder. If he weren't drunk, he probably would be freaking out. Drunk, he had one priority: sleeping, and you can only have one priority at a time when the numbness is in your blood. He let her lead the way, and she talked on.

"Oh, how heavy you are sir, come come. Its a very nice bed. Filled with down and soft and your friend was so very generous. I am very thankful, and you are a very kind bunch. Did you come a rough way?" He slurred something in comprehensible, when he meant to explain his journey. She nodded fervently. They continued to his lodges door. "Now I must say, sir," she said when he finished, and they were just outside his bedroom, "I'm wild in the night."

"Wild?!" Amalric exclaimed genially. "What is this?" he was always in a good mood after talking a lot about himself. "I do not know this word."

"Oh you do not know this word?"

"No."

"Maybe a hint then?"

"Oh, you can just say it," he mutter pulling out the clanking keys. Now which one was it? He squinted.

And then, he blacked out. He could remember vaguely for him to be more talked, and then that she had followed him into the room, and he woke up alone feeling very healthy. He got the jist of what had happened, and to this day, doesn't know what to think of it. Just thinking about it left him with a confused furrow on his forehead.

But at least from this experience, he might have gotten the definition of wild right.

"He doesn't look very wild right now though, but it would be good for him to get more wild. Are you sure? He looks right now is if he had never been wild in his life. Very peaceful. As for my mare, I'm sure she is quite protected at the moment, what with the padding and the armor." He nodded over his shoulder. "Or, can he wrestle that off," he laughed. "Truly excellent horse. I would definitely let him get wild as much as he wants. He ought to be put to good use, ma'am. Very fine," he said, reaching out to pet the white horse's muzzle as the woman liked to do-

(NOTES) and so this slow turtle crosses the road.
(TAGGED) Faerydae Moriarty

[Faerydae Moriarty]

It could not help but to appear to Faerydae that the more that she tried to explain and ramble about her horse, the more did the man’s smile slowly started to diminish, although, even then one could not be completely certain. There was a pause and it was not long before he straighten himself, his gaze continuously looking towards his hands or back towards his men and their various animals. It was quite a strange thing for him to do, and the young woman was not entirely sure as to why he did it. Was it because of the things she said? Perhaps, after all, men generally did not like being told that they cannot have something, especially those from the courts. There was no possible way that he could remotely think of her as a magic user, or else this would certainly be awkward, granted, if that had been the case, wouldn’t she be dead by now? Of course, with that accent of his, she would be willing to bet the rest of her rabbit furs that he was not from Albion.

Although, she really was trying to be reasonable here. There was no way he was having Silver, if that was the case, he would honestly have to kill her, or well, she and Silver would just leave. But he seemed like a nice enough fellow, which was why she was trying to get out of this situation as quickly as possible so she could continue on her way, away from civilization such as him. Faerydae was almost certain that she had him nailed to the tree when Silver’s heritage was brought up, even nobles were turned away at such a thought. Wild horses were unruly , untamed, and most of all, unpredictable not in actions, but also in genes. Granted, Silver was of the elder breed, but it only took those who knew of the stories to pinpoint such a breed for they were often thought of myth. But, before the young woman could emit victory in her heard, he lifted his finger, a gesture often used with children that the parents were to get the last word in, “He will be the stud of my finest herd. He can be wild, that’s perfectly fine, if that would make him happy.”

What? His words alone could not make her help but to cause her eyebrows to rise. Did this man really not just hear a word that she said? Once again, ice blue eyes glanced over towards the white horse, whose own amber eyes just glanced back towards her. If animals could speak, he’d probably be wondering if this man was a joke. Her gaze returned towards the man, biting her lip as she was trying to think of such a way to counter this at the moment, “You would want to have a cross breed for a foal?” that would certainly be a first for a noble, such a thing was almost would be unheard of. She was just uncertain of what to do, usually this was all very simple, but this man was making it difficult, as well as almost headache inducing, his accent certainly did not help much with the matter. How does one argue with somebody who does not understand her? If only there he were a lord of Albion would her life be a lot easier than this. Well, at least he hadn’t tried to touch Silver yet, that alone could have been a disaster. Faerydae found herself quite certain though that there was a going to be a point where this whole situation may become dangerous.

Her thoughts became interrupted though, “He doesn’t look very wild right now though, but it would be good for him,” it was at that statement that Faerydae found herself realizing that he might not fully understand the term ‘wild’, in Albion terms, “Are you sure? He looks right now as if he had never been wild in his life in his life. Very peaceful. As for my mare, I’m sure she is quite protected at the moment, what with the padding and the armor,” he said now, nodding towards his war mare with her fine armor, “Or can he wrestle that off?” he asked in a laugh. His ears flatten slightly at such a remark and Silver struck the ground, an annoyed snort escaping the horse as if he were saying ‘don’t tempt me’. Her eyes glanced back and forth between her horse and the man for a mere second now, “Sir, I don’t think you quite understand what I’m-“ but she found herself getting cut off, or perhaps this lord was just too distracted at the idea that he was getting the white horse for his own pleasure now even though there had been no such agreement yet.

“Truly excellent horse. I would definitely let him get wild as much as he wants . He ought to be put to good use, ma’am. Very fine,” and before she could even say anything, the man was reaching out towards Silver now. A squeal escaped the stallion, his ears flattening against his skull. How dare a human think that they could touch him? He only allowed those whom he trusted, and most certainly was he not going to trust a man who thought him nothing more than a common horse. He leaped away from the two humans, his back hooves planted into the ground for but a moment before kicking outwards, trying to send dirt flying in their directions. Silver whined towards his own human now, nodding his head and throwing it back towards the path in which they had come on, beckoning her to come with him now and to leave this odd foreigners behind on whatever adventure that they were currently pursuing. His hooves struck the ground once again in patience and his amber eyes lingered on the man now, distrust in his eyes at the thought of him trying to put a saddle on him.

Faerydae herself nearly cringed at such a display of a situation. Her annoyance at the situation was slowly building, not just at the man but at Silver too. He was proving to be no help in the matter, if anything, he probably was just giving them reason to be killed now. Her eyes glanced back over towards the man now, “Sir, when I say wild, I do not mean that he likes to mount things that moves, I mean it in the sense that he is unridable. Never have I seen a person get a saddle on him or even a lead line over his head, much less stay on him,” or perhaps, she had just been sugar coating everything. There had been a pause for her, as if she were trying to figure out on what to say at the moment, there was one thing, and perhaps in the beginning, she might have thought it a little harsh, but not anymore, “He’s not for sale,” Faerydae added on flatly now, hoping that might get the point of across in any language or dialect.

Notes: haha, it's alright! As you see, I was a little slow at crossing the road as well!