“He’s charming.” Tehani states, once Gabe is out the door and out of earshot. “For a wolf.”
“Maybe that’s why I’m putting so much effort into him.” Jon sighs, stretching his arms above his head before leaning back against the wall behind him. The centaur raises an eyebrow, a silent question after catching sight of the thick bandages still encasing his forearm. “… dog bite.”
“You don’t keep dogs.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Infected?”
“Clean. He broke my arm when it happened. Still not quite healed yet.”
“… will you be alright to—“
“Yes.”
She fixes his eye with an unamused stare as a rare uncomfortable silence falls between them. Jon’s gaze drops to his feet, silently begging her not to question him; he’s already feeling his age bad enough these past few days, no need to add insult to injury.
She disagrees.
“Pay me on the way back, then.”
“You’ll be out of balance.”
“I’ve dealt with worse.”
“It’s barely anything, I did the whole herd a few days ago—“
“You what?!”
Several small dragons scatter from the rafters at her raised voice. Jon, to his credit, stares stoically back, almost challenging her to tell him he shouldn’t have. She doesn’t, but her message is still as clear as daylight: she’s disappointed.
“Mage hand.” He counters, almost timidly.
“Hmph.”
“I’ll be careful.” He promises placing his palm over his heart. “Trim, file, rebalance, that’s it. Nothing fancy, nothing strenuous. I promise.”
“I will hold you to your word.”
-
Lunch comes and goes. They stay in the entry hall, chatting and sitting in more comfortable silences after Jon’s vow does the work of soothing the centaur’s concerns for his wellbeing. Ari brings the wizard his usual paste with a cup of tea, and a plate of roast venison with vegetables for Tehani. After they've both sat quietly with a chance to digest, the two head outside, toward the barn.
The sight that greets them on the way of a shirtless Gable sprawled out in the snow with his cow stop both in their tracks for a moment.
"Does he often do this?"
"I've... yet to see this behavior from him, but then again, I've known him less than a month."
"Looks like they had fun."
"It certainly does." The wizard hums, regarding the evidence of their romp. "If you need a good run before we get started, go right ahead. I'll get the tools laid out, just come in when you're ready."
She doesn't, not really. Yesterday's hike up the mountain was enough to wear her out for the most part, but she supposes she could do with a bit of a jog, especially after being stationary for so long indoors. So she gives Jon an affirming grunt, and trots over to the same paddock where Gable and Buddy lay, figuring she might as well make use of the packed down snow that's already in there so that the wizard doesn't end up having to pick ice balls out of her feet too.
“Maybe that’s why I’m putting so much effort into him.” Jon sighs, stretching his arms above his head before leaning back against the wall behind him. The centaur raises an eyebrow, a silent question after catching sight of the thick bandages still encasing his forearm. “… dog bite.”
“You don’t keep dogs.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Infected?”
“Clean. He broke my arm when it happened. Still not quite healed yet.”
“… will you be alright to—“
“Yes.”
She fixes his eye with an unamused stare as a rare uncomfortable silence falls between them. Jon’s gaze drops to his feet, silently begging her not to question him; he’s already feeling his age bad enough these past few days, no need to add insult to injury.
She disagrees.
“Pay me on the way back, then.”
“You’ll be out of balance.”
“I’ve dealt with worse.”
“It’s barely anything, I did the whole herd a few days ago—“
“You what?!”
Several small dragons scatter from the rafters at her raised voice. Jon, to his credit, stares stoically back, almost challenging her to tell him he shouldn’t have. She doesn’t, but her message is still as clear as daylight: she’s disappointed.
“Mage hand.” He counters, almost timidly.
“Hmph.”
“I’ll be careful.” He promises placing his palm over his heart. “Trim, file, rebalance, that’s it. Nothing fancy, nothing strenuous. I promise.”
“I will hold you to your word.”
-
Lunch comes and goes. They stay in the entry hall, chatting and sitting in more comfortable silences after Jon’s vow does the work of soothing the centaur’s concerns for his wellbeing. Ari brings the wizard his usual paste with a cup of tea, and a plate of roast venison with vegetables for Tehani. After they've both sat quietly with a chance to digest, the two head outside, toward the barn.
The sight that greets them on the way of a shirtless Gable sprawled out in the snow with his cow stop both in their tracks for a moment.
"Does he often do this?"
"I've... yet to see this behavior from him, but then again, I've known him less than a month."
"Looks like they had fun."
"It certainly does." The wizard hums, regarding the evidence of their romp. "If you need a good run before we get started, go right ahead. I'll get the tools laid out, just come in when you're ready."
She doesn't, not really. Yesterday's hike up the mountain was enough to wear her out for the most part, but she supposes she could do with a bit of a jog, especially after being stationary for so long indoors. So she gives Jon an affirming grunt, and trots over to the same paddock where Gable and Buddy lay, figuring she might as well make use of the packed down snow that's already in there so that the wizard doesn't end up having to pick ice balls out of her feet too.
Cold air soothes the burn of his hot skin. The rise and fall of Buddy's chest rocks him like a mother's arms. Clusters of sparrows pose musical questions to one another along the fencepost, delighting his keen ears. Gable sighs deeply, and his body relaxes into a puddle of bliss.
This. This is his sunlit grass. This is what he will think of when he tries to call upon that unseen force beating within himself: Lying here like a fool on the frozen ground with the open sky above him and a great beast behind. It's the frozen earth, which will soon enough become the melted earth. It's the sparrows. It is a lovely, billowing, childlike feeling, it's… It's knowing Master Eris will be all right.
Suddenly he can pick out his master's timber and the voice of their guest, but not what they say. He lifts his head to spot them and offers a lazy wave, then drops back against Buddy and nuzzles his face into the bull's short fur, relishing the earthy, sweaty scent. "Two more minutes."
The bull lows mournfully and offers his belly to make the most of those minutes. Gable laughs softly and obliges him with great big circular scratches, holding both his hands rigid like bear claws.
Soon the noise of trotting hooves rouses him into an upright position. He gazes upon Tehani's gliding movements with a smile of admiration and respect. Then he excuses himself to let her exercise in peace, unobserved. Buddy follows to the barn without a lead or any prompting.
While opening Buddy's stall door, Gable stares at the tools Master Eris has set out. "Did we miss someone, sir?"
If they had, he can't think of who, but he'd been a bit distracted the day they shoed the horses. Honestly his mind has been absent from him more often than not since he arrived at Black Pine; distant. chaotic. lost.
"Until now," his heart whispers. He watches Master Eris with the bloom of a fond smirk. Yes, until now.
This. This is his sunlit grass. This is what he will think of when he tries to call upon that unseen force beating within himself: Lying here like a fool on the frozen ground with the open sky above him and a great beast behind. It's the frozen earth, which will soon enough become the melted earth. It's the sparrows. It is a lovely, billowing, childlike feeling, it's… It's knowing Master Eris will be all right.
Suddenly he can pick out his master's timber and the voice of their guest, but not what they say. He lifts his head to spot them and offers a lazy wave, then drops back against Buddy and nuzzles his face into the bull's short fur, relishing the earthy, sweaty scent. "Two more minutes."
The bull lows mournfully and offers his belly to make the most of those minutes. Gable laughs softly and obliges him with great big circular scratches, holding both his hands rigid like bear claws.
Soon the noise of trotting hooves rouses him into an upright position. He gazes upon Tehani's gliding movements with a smile of admiration and respect. Then he excuses himself to let her exercise in peace, unobserved. Buddy follows to the barn without a lead or any prompting.
While opening Buddy's stall door, Gable stares at the tools Master Eris has set out. "Did we miss someone, sir?"
If they had, he can't think of who, but he'd been a bit distracted the day they shoed the horses. Honestly his mind has been absent from him more often than not since he arrived at Black Pine; distant. chaotic. lost.
"Until now," his heart whispers. He watches Master Eris with the bloom of a fond smirk. Yes, until now.
Jon heads into the quiet barn, intending to get as much as he can done before Gable notices and tries to fuss. He's started taking after Maddox on that front, and it's worrying in a way. It means he'll have a harder time evading interference any time he does something fun, with one or both bound to be close by at any moment.
Much like they did with the regular horses, he starts laying out the tools on the wooden bench near the ring mounted on the barn wall. Not that they'll need the ring, or even as many tools as the regular horses require. The centaur isn't one for shoes, though the same can't be said for all members of her species. Rasp, nippers, and knife. That's all he should need today.
"Hm?" The wizard glances over his shoulder to see Gabe enter the barn, just as he's shrugged off his outer robe and draped it over the door to Frost's stall. "Oh! No, not one of ours. Tehani has me see to her hooves whenever she comes through. Normally her feet wear evenly enough with how much traveling she does, but she took an injury to her leg when she was very young, and it has begun to pain her as she's aged. Ensuring that the surface of that hoof remains level helps ease some of the tension in the limb, and I make sure the others are in good repair while I'm at it. Between that and the accommodations she receives while she's here, it's a sort of arrangement we have in exchange for her services as a courier."
He pauses just long enough to bat Frost's nose away as he goes to take a mouthful of the robe. The stallion at least as the decency to look ashamed as he turns around in the stall and digs at the bedding in the opposite corner. Jon sighs, looking back at Gable before he continues, much quieter this time.
"She brought the crate with the cure in it that I requested from one of the other Court members... are you certain you still want to do that? It won't be pleasant, you'll probably need someone else to take care of Lee for a while. Maddox and I can take care of the horses, at least."
Much like they did with the regular horses, he starts laying out the tools on the wooden bench near the ring mounted on the barn wall. Not that they'll need the ring, or even as many tools as the regular horses require. The centaur isn't one for shoes, though the same can't be said for all members of her species. Rasp, nippers, and knife. That's all he should need today.
"Hm?" The wizard glances over his shoulder to see Gabe enter the barn, just as he's shrugged off his outer robe and draped it over the door to Frost's stall. "Oh! No, not one of ours. Tehani has me see to her hooves whenever she comes through. Normally her feet wear evenly enough with how much traveling she does, but she took an injury to her leg when she was very young, and it has begun to pain her as she's aged. Ensuring that the surface of that hoof remains level helps ease some of the tension in the limb, and I make sure the others are in good repair while I'm at it. Between that and the accommodations she receives while she's here, it's a sort of arrangement we have in exchange for her services as a courier."
He pauses just long enough to bat Frost's nose away as he goes to take a mouthful of the robe. The stallion at least as the decency to look ashamed as he turns around in the stall and digs at the bedding in the opposite corner. Jon sighs, looking back at Gable before he continues, much quieter this time.
"She brought the crate with the cure in it that I requested from one of the other Court members... are you certain you still want to do that? It won't be pleasant, you'll probably need someone else to take care of Lee for a while. Maddox and I can take care of the horses, at least."
Gable threads his shirt on while listening to the wizard explain the tools and the arrangement. His brows lift. His lips take on the shape of someone who's just bitten a lemon and is attempting to smile through it. "Oh. …How nice."
Distracted by the hot flare of some unusual emotion, he doesn't take much notice of Buddy's insistence to remain outside of his stall. The bull stands very close with his head lowered, pressing his nose to Gable's side. The creature's reward is a continual, absent-minded scratch behind the ears. His big dark eyes slide shut in contentment.
"That seems like an awful lot of trust. Sort of… friendly. And you know so much about her." How long have you known each other? Are you close? Does she come here often? "It's nice." In Master Eris's own word: fascinating.
He sighs and scratches his forehead at the mention of the cure. "I think it's the only way either of us will have any peace. I don't want to give it up, but it's not the same thing as what I grew up being, and it's already forced me to leave behind so much." He shakes his head as if to clear away the sadness, but it tinges his smile.
"It's not that big a price to pay to be a peaceable member of your house, sir. But… if Blackstaff won't rattle you too hard about it, there is one request I'd like to make." His eyes become a little bit squinty. A little mischievous. "I had this thought: It's a shame we "met" each other when I was out of my mind. If I could rewrite that night, I'd… I'd have…" The mischief quickly blooms into an all-over scarlet shyness as expressing himself aloud becomes much more humiliating than he'd expected. He glances at the ceiling.
"Golly. It's not as if it's a bad thing. I would just like to... take you on a run. You ride Frost often enough. It can't be so different." It isn't being ridden that sounds so appealing (though Lee has done it, and he's certainly large enough to carry Master Eris without a hint of difficulty) but to be in unison, to be exploring the forest as one mind, nearly one body, carrying him to places no horse can reach and no man would think to stray. He shrugs one shoulder without looking at him. "We could go after you're finished with Ms. Tehani's hooves, while there's still light. Could be fun."
As for the babysitter he says, "Lee's been so glued to that little lady Lorelei, I doubt he'll notice I'm missing. But I… I'd like to wear that bracelet you showed me before—the one that stops magic and mindspeak? I can't be sure I'll be good at keeping the experience to myself. And now that I know I've got magic, I don't want to accidentally… Well, you know better than me what could happen, but I'm sure it ain't pretty. And I like your face in its current arrangement just fine." He smirks and puts the bull away.
"I've been turnin' over what you said when we were coming up from town." Realizing this is a very broad statement, he goes on: "About Little Hen bein' a place where some powerful magic happened. The funny thing is, I've never met someone like you before. No one in town ever used magic in my entire life. …Well." Except me, his sheepishness says.
"But my grandfather, the one who was…" It feels strange and somehow boastful to discuss a lineage that includes something akin to an angel, so he just makes a gesture to mean You know what. "He's mighty old. I'm starting to think he might have founded Little Hen, 'cause I can't remember anyone ever talking about it. And that's just the kind of thing no one would talk about. If they had to admit the whole place was full of strange magic, they'd up and leave. But there's too many resources. The land's too good. Anyway, I've made up my mind that I'd like to talk to him someday. Find him and talk to him, and maybe thank him, since he gave me his magic. Maybe he'd even take me on as a student, seeing as I'm his blood. After I'm cured, I won't be so scared to be out in the world again. Except… I don't s'pose you've got anything for removing scars?" He casts a somewhat playful, doubtful glance at Master Eris's covered torso while holding out his branded forearm.
Distracted by the hot flare of some unusual emotion, he doesn't take much notice of Buddy's insistence to remain outside of his stall. The bull stands very close with his head lowered, pressing his nose to Gable's side. The creature's reward is a continual, absent-minded scratch behind the ears. His big dark eyes slide shut in contentment.
"That seems like an awful lot of trust. Sort of… friendly. And you know so much about her." How long have you known each other? Are you close? Does she come here often? "It's nice." In Master Eris's own word: fascinating.
He sighs and scratches his forehead at the mention of the cure. "I think it's the only way either of us will have any peace. I don't want to give it up, but it's not the same thing as what I grew up being, and it's already forced me to leave behind so much." He shakes his head as if to clear away the sadness, but it tinges his smile.
"It's not that big a price to pay to be a peaceable member of your house, sir. But… if Blackstaff won't rattle you too hard about it, there is one request I'd like to make." His eyes become a little bit squinty. A little mischievous. "I had this thought: It's a shame we "met" each other when I was out of my mind. If I could rewrite that night, I'd… I'd have…" The mischief quickly blooms into an all-over scarlet shyness as expressing himself aloud becomes much more humiliating than he'd expected. He glances at the ceiling.
"Golly. It's not as if it's a bad thing. I would just like to... take you on a run. You ride Frost often enough. It can't be so different." It isn't being ridden that sounds so appealing (though Lee has done it, and he's certainly large enough to carry Master Eris without a hint of difficulty) but to be in unison, to be exploring the forest as one mind, nearly one body, carrying him to places no horse can reach and no man would think to stray. He shrugs one shoulder without looking at him. "We could go after you're finished with Ms. Tehani's hooves, while there's still light. Could be fun."
As for the babysitter he says, "Lee's been so glued to that little lady Lorelei, I doubt he'll notice I'm missing. But I… I'd like to wear that bracelet you showed me before—the one that stops magic and mindspeak? I can't be sure I'll be good at keeping the experience to myself. And now that I know I've got magic, I don't want to accidentally… Well, you know better than me what could happen, but I'm sure it ain't pretty. And I like your face in its current arrangement just fine." He smirks and puts the bull away.
"I've been turnin' over what you said when we were coming up from town." Realizing this is a very broad statement, he goes on: "About Little Hen bein' a place where some powerful magic happened. The funny thing is, I've never met someone like you before. No one in town ever used magic in my entire life. …Well." Except me, his sheepishness says.
"But my grandfather, the one who was…" It feels strange and somehow boastful to discuss a lineage that includes something akin to an angel, so he just makes a gesture to mean You know what. "He's mighty old. I'm starting to think he might have founded Little Hen, 'cause I can't remember anyone ever talking about it. And that's just the kind of thing no one would talk about. If they had to admit the whole place was full of strange magic, they'd up and leave. But there's too many resources. The land's too good. Anyway, I've made up my mind that I'd like to talk to him someday. Find him and talk to him, and maybe thank him, since he gave me his magic. Maybe he'd even take me on as a student, seeing as I'm his blood. After I'm cured, I won't be so scared to be out in the world again. Except… I don't s'pose you've got anything for removing scars?" He casts a somewhat playful, doubtful glance at Master Eris's covered torso while holding out his branded forearm.
Jon’s eyes narrow as he folds his arms across his chest, mirroring Gabe’s own mischievous stance as he listens to the younger man’s almost reluctant proposal. He snorts at his sudden embarrassment, but it’s good-natured, encouraging even. Stars know he’s been in similar enough situations to understand the lad’s trepidation. His expression turns thoughtful at the end of the suggestion. There’s a very small part of him that wants to hesitate. Once bitten, twice shy it warns him. He knows there’s always a chance things could go wrong, even unintentionally. After all, Gabe hadn’t meant to hurt him the first time, yet he still ended up with a broken arm and a fever out of it.
“Well… I don’t think there’s anything anyone could say to Blackstaff to make her think it’s a good idea. And we’d both be dead men if Maddox found out. So…” His thoughtful expression turns into a smirk of the scheming variety frighteningly fast. “I say whatever we do, we leave them in the dark about it.”
The wizard sucks in a breath, nodding slowly at the mention of the gold cuff he had brought out when he first confronted Gable about getting his abilities under control. Even though he had been perfectly willing to subject him to the item’s effects long term not too long ago, there’s a part of him that hesitates now. Maybe it’s because he’s unsure if there will be a reaction between it and the magic found in the cure, or maybe he’s just grown fond of Gabe and doesn’t want him to have to endure two pains at once.
Well… perhaps pain was putting it too severely. Before Gable had been awakened to his own arcane senses, it would have been simple and relatively easy for him to get used to the silence. But now that he was aware of his own aura, and could sense Jon’s as well? It would be like suddenly missing a part of him, an ear or a finger, something that could be compensated for with time, but would be difficult to adjust to. Hopefully he’d do better with it than Jon had the first time that cold alloy had tightened down flush to his skin.
“I think that can be arranged.” He swallows thickly, tamping down memories of panic and silence until he can meet Gables eyes without looking like a frightened animal. “I certainly understand not wanting Lee to bear witness to that.”
There’s more nodding as he considers the younger man’s theory about his hometown. None of it is particularly outlandish, not even the supposition that his ancestor might be willing to teach him.
“Tracking him down may prove difficult. Celestials aren’t known for being particularly consistent or available. You might have an easier time locating a harengon in the Feywild… but I’m willing to help, if it’s something you want to do.” It’s true. He is. He’ll go to the ends of the earth for this young man full of feral magic and fur, bright-eyed in spite of being slighted by the world so young… but it still hurts to say it out loud. “He’d likely be a much better teacher for you than myself. His magic is probably far more similar to yours than mine could ever hope to be.”
His melancholic tone doesn’t last, though, broken by a sharp laugh.
“There are ways to hide them. A simple illusion spell would do it, there’s a suitable one in your primer, in fact. But maintaining that sort of spell all day every day? For myself, at least, there are more important things to use my reserves on than smoothing out a patch of skin few ever lay eyes on.”
At that moment, Tehani saunters into the barn, breathing heavily, her thick winter coat damp in places where sweat has soaked her equine body, evaporating off in great clouds of steam. It’s subtle, but she does favor one leg even as she walks. It doesn’t bend as easy, the muscles aren’t as supple, and it doesn’t quite move in rhythm with the others. Jon sends a sympathetic smile her way, grabbing a hoof pick and gesturing to the space where the horses are usually tied.
“Stand wherever you’re comfortable, friend, and we’ll get things sorted.”
“Well… I don’t think there’s anything anyone could say to Blackstaff to make her think it’s a good idea. And we’d both be dead men if Maddox found out. So…” His thoughtful expression turns into a smirk of the scheming variety frighteningly fast. “I say whatever we do, we leave them in the dark about it.”
The wizard sucks in a breath, nodding slowly at the mention of the gold cuff he had brought out when he first confronted Gable about getting his abilities under control. Even though he had been perfectly willing to subject him to the item’s effects long term not too long ago, there’s a part of him that hesitates now. Maybe it’s because he’s unsure if there will be a reaction between it and the magic found in the cure, or maybe he’s just grown fond of Gabe and doesn’t want him to have to endure two pains at once.
Well… perhaps pain was putting it too severely. Before Gable had been awakened to his own arcane senses, it would have been simple and relatively easy for him to get used to the silence. But now that he was aware of his own aura, and could sense Jon’s as well? It would be like suddenly missing a part of him, an ear or a finger, something that could be compensated for with time, but would be difficult to adjust to. Hopefully he’d do better with it than Jon had the first time that cold alloy had tightened down flush to his skin.
“I think that can be arranged.” He swallows thickly, tamping down memories of panic and silence until he can meet Gables eyes without looking like a frightened animal. “I certainly understand not wanting Lee to bear witness to that.”
There’s more nodding as he considers the younger man’s theory about his hometown. None of it is particularly outlandish, not even the supposition that his ancestor might be willing to teach him.
“Tracking him down may prove difficult. Celestials aren’t known for being particularly consistent or available. You might have an easier time locating a harengon in the Feywild… but I’m willing to help, if it’s something you want to do.” It’s true. He is. He’ll go to the ends of the earth for this young man full of feral magic and fur, bright-eyed in spite of being slighted by the world so young… but it still hurts to say it out loud. “He’d likely be a much better teacher for you than myself. His magic is probably far more similar to yours than mine could ever hope to be.”
His melancholic tone doesn’t last, though, broken by a sharp laugh.
“There are ways to hide them. A simple illusion spell would do it, there’s a suitable one in your primer, in fact. But maintaining that sort of spell all day every day? For myself, at least, there are more important things to use my reserves on than smoothing out a patch of skin few ever lay eyes on.”
At that moment, Tehani saunters into the barn, breathing heavily, her thick winter coat damp in places where sweat has soaked her equine body, evaporating off in great clouds of steam. It’s subtle, but she does favor one leg even as she walks. It doesn’t bend as easy, the muscles aren’t as supple, and it doesn’t quite move in rhythm with the others. Jon sends a sympathetic smile her way, grabbing a hoof pick and gesturing to the space where the horses are usually tied.
“Stand wherever you’re comfortable, friend, and we’ll get things sorted.”
Gable only laughs and gets redder at the wizard's somewhat antagonistic snort. But two gremlin brothers and a pack of cowboys have toughened his skin well before now, and he charges ahead to make his plea. The temporary hesitation he senses is much worse than the embarrassment that preceded it, but when it breaks, his excitement bursts out in a little bounce on the balls of his feet.
His turn to snort and grin. "Do you think I would have been so irresponsible as to tell Mr. Rex about this plan? Tch. Poor man would have a heart attack. Can't have that."
He's shutting Buddy in his stall when the wizard answers about the cuff. Though he can hear the hesitation in his tone, he misses the frightened look entirely. Which is probably for the best; he's already frightened enough of what lies ahead.
"A what?" He laughs, taking the term for nonsense, but trusting that it isn't; Master Eris has seen so much of the world, and Gabe is only now becoming aware of its existence. His chest swells warmly at the wizard's offer to help, and even at the melancholic tone. Perhaps he's most touched by that sadness, that the prospect of separation and replacement is as bitter to him as it would be on this end. In a tone saturated with that warmth and fondness flooding him he says quietly, "Not a better teacher, sir. Just different. And I hope to learn as much as I can from as many who are willing… But o'course that's after I've wrung you of everything you'll give." His grin insists that the wizard is stuck with him for quite some time yet.
He's not disappointed, exactly (he would have needed to feel hope for that to happen) but knowing he's stuck with an ugly mark like a head of steer for the rest of his life does cause him to sigh. It isn't as fashionable as those scars the wizard earned in war.
Hearing her moments before she appears, he turns to watch Tehani enter the barn. He identifies the stiffness—the weak spot of an otherwise formidable creature—immediately; the slight crippling that would set her apart from a herd. Something about it mesmerizes him… more alluring than the unhindered grace she'd shown earlier, it fully captivates his attention in a way that's almost startling and at the same time (for reasons that he'd like to believe elude him) he realizes he'd skipped lunch to prepare her stall... He tears his gaze away to the floor until she is nearby and motionless once again.
Lifting his chin, his eyes move from the centaur to the soft smile on his master's face. Sensing that this would be the time for him to excuse himself, he instead plants his hands on his hips in a somewhat chiding gesture directed at the eldest in the room. "How can I help?"
His turn to snort and grin. "Do you think I would have been so irresponsible as to tell Mr. Rex about this plan? Tch. Poor man would have a heart attack. Can't have that."
He's shutting Buddy in his stall when the wizard answers about the cuff. Though he can hear the hesitation in his tone, he misses the frightened look entirely. Which is probably for the best; he's already frightened enough of what lies ahead.
"A what?" He laughs, taking the term for nonsense, but trusting that it isn't; Master Eris has seen so much of the world, and Gabe is only now becoming aware of its existence. His chest swells warmly at the wizard's offer to help, and even at the melancholic tone. Perhaps he's most touched by that sadness, that the prospect of separation and replacement is as bitter to him as it would be on this end. In a tone saturated with that warmth and fondness flooding him he says quietly, "Not a better teacher, sir. Just different. And I hope to learn as much as I can from as many who are willing… But o'course that's after I've wrung you of everything you'll give." His grin insists that the wizard is stuck with him for quite some time yet.
He's not disappointed, exactly (he would have needed to feel hope for that to happen) but knowing he's stuck with an ugly mark like a head of steer for the rest of his life does cause him to sigh. It isn't as fashionable as those scars the wizard earned in war.
Hearing her moments before she appears, he turns to watch Tehani enter the barn. He identifies the stiffness—the weak spot of an otherwise formidable creature—immediately; the slight crippling that would set her apart from a herd. Something about it mesmerizes him… more alluring than the unhindered grace she'd shown earlier, it fully captivates his attention in a way that's almost startling and at the same time (for reasons that he'd like to believe elude him) he realizes he'd skipped lunch to prepare her stall... He tears his gaze away to the floor until she is nearby and motionless once again.
Lifting his chin, his eyes move from the centaur to the soft smile on his master's face. Sensing that this would be the time for him to excuse himself, he instead plants his hands on his hips in a somewhat chiding gesture directed at the eldest in the room. "How can I help?"
Tehani stands quietly where she is bid, hands patiently stuffed in the pockets of her jacket while Jon kneels in front of her and starts examining her bad leg. There's swelling in the joints, and tension in the musculature. Not enough to be noticeable on a regular horse, but because the centaur has the ability to communicate her discomfort, it's easier to identify and treat the source before it becomes debilitating.
"There isn't much to help with." Jon hums, hands running over the knot of scar tissue on the front of her leg before picking up the foot and noting the unevenness with which it has worn down. Yes, evening that out should help immensely. "Unless you want to stand around and hand me tools, that is. Did you manage to get lunch, Gabe? I don't remember seeing you come in through the front door, and I promise you we won't be going anywhere unless you've had a full meal since breakfast."
It's a simple matter, really. Not much different than trimming the hooves of any regular horse. The only real difference is that Jon can occasionally ask questions and actually expect a response.
"Does that feel alright?"
"Let me know if you need a break to put your leg down."
"That doesn't hurt or anything, does it?"
Most of the answers he receives are tired grunts, which is a good thing. The first time he had offered to adjust her feet had been met with a blade to the throat and a decent number of threats, tied up with insults about 'city centaurs' and a certain spoiled traveling companion who refused to go barefoot, even in winter. Arthur had taken her jabs well enough, being thoroughly used to them, while Jon had patiently explained the benefits of having someone make sure her hooves stayed level as she traveled, and offered to do the work himself. She hadn't been happy about it, fidgeting and snorting the whole time, but the wizard had been patient, letting her prance and stamp as much as she needed to to get out her nervous energy. He's convinced now that half of her outburst had been due to pain she simply didn't know she was in, because it had been so long since she had been without it.
But seeing her stand straight, her entire body relaxing in one long sigh, when he was finished... that had been worth enduring her temper.
"There isn't much to help with." Jon hums, hands running over the knot of scar tissue on the front of her leg before picking up the foot and noting the unevenness with which it has worn down. Yes, evening that out should help immensely. "Unless you want to stand around and hand me tools, that is. Did you manage to get lunch, Gabe? I don't remember seeing you come in through the front door, and I promise you we won't be going anywhere unless you've had a full meal since breakfast."
It's a simple matter, really. Not much different than trimming the hooves of any regular horse. The only real difference is that Jon can occasionally ask questions and actually expect a response.
"Does that feel alright?"
"Let me know if you need a break to put your leg down."
"That doesn't hurt or anything, does it?"
Most of the answers he receives are tired grunts, which is a good thing. The first time he had offered to adjust her feet had been met with a blade to the throat and a decent number of threats, tied up with insults about 'city centaurs' and a certain spoiled traveling companion who refused to go barefoot, even in winter. Arthur had taken her jabs well enough, being thoroughly used to them, while Jon had patiently explained the benefits of having someone make sure her hooves stayed level as she traveled, and offered to do the work himself. She hadn't been happy about it, fidgeting and snorting the whole time, but the wizard had been patient, letting her prance and stamp as much as she needed to to get out her nervous energy. He's convinced now that half of her outburst had been due to pain she simply didn't know she was in, because it had been so long since she had been without it.
But seeing her stand straight, her entire body relaxing in one long sigh, when he was finished... that had been worth enduring her temper.
"We won't be going anywhere unless you've had a full meal since breakfast."
Gable grimaces at the sting that may or may not be hidden in that statement. The shadow of distrust. Although it's true the transformation burns through him every time it racks his body, and one solid meal beforehand can ease the gnawing discomfort, he can't be sure that's how the wizard means his concern. More likely than not, he's just afraid for himself. Afraid Gable's humanity will desert him if he's got an appetite, so that he'll somehow confuse Master Eris with fresh venison. His eyes drop to his own hands with a wry smirk and he cleans the dirt out of his nails. "No, sir. I haven't yet. I was busy."
"If I'm really not needed, then… s'pose I'll just grab a bite, if I can catch it." He nods his head politely to Tehani, then meanders at an unrushed pace toward the exit. He continues muttering on his way: "Those little kitchen aids sure do run, though… and they taste like a mouthful of flour. Maybe I'll start with that boy who scrubs the floors. He'll taste like soap, o'course, but at least I can get 'im while his head's down. And Mr. Rex's long bones will make a fine set of toothpicks. Very fine. I've always wondered what wood elf tastes like, too. Wood? Flesh? Who knows." At the door he glances back and, if Master Eris is looking at him, snorts a forgiving smile before stepping out into the snow. Soon it won't cross anyone's mind that he might harm them.
In the kitchen he asks for a heaping tray of whatever odds and ends Ariathel has saved from the lunch hour, then he sits alone at a table and eats until he can't anymore. If he has to show the wizard the roundness of his belly before they get to embark on their adventure, then fine. He'll stuff himself until it hurts.
Lorelei and Lee are difficult to track down at first, but to his great surprise, the pup runs to him and leaps into his arms. When Master Eris finds him again, they're in the garden, sans maid. Lee is bundled warmly, curled in his lap, being told a story about a brave rabbit who rescued his seven brothers from a farmer's stew. Despite the harrowing nature of the tale, however, the toddler's eyes have slipped shut and his bouncing foot has come to rest.
"And then the mean, nasty farmer saw the error of his ways and vowed to only eat vegetables and fish for the rest of his life," Gable finishes, smirking up at the wizard. "Just like me."
Gable grimaces at the sting that may or may not be hidden in that statement. The shadow of distrust. Although it's true the transformation burns through him every time it racks his body, and one solid meal beforehand can ease the gnawing discomfort, he can't be sure that's how the wizard means his concern. More likely than not, he's just afraid for himself. Afraid Gable's humanity will desert him if he's got an appetite, so that he'll somehow confuse Master Eris with fresh venison. His eyes drop to his own hands with a wry smirk and he cleans the dirt out of his nails. "No, sir. I haven't yet. I was busy."
"If I'm really not needed, then… s'pose I'll just grab a bite, if I can catch it." He nods his head politely to Tehani, then meanders at an unrushed pace toward the exit. He continues muttering on his way: "Those little kitchen aids sure do run, though… and they taste like a mouthful of flour. Maybe I'll start with that boy who scrubs the floors. He'll taste like soap, o'course, but at least I can get 'im while his head's down. And Mr. Rex's long bones will make a fine set of toothpicks. Very fine. I've always wondered what wood elf tastes like, too. Wood? Flesh? Who knows." At the door he glances back and, if Master Eris is looking at him, snorts a forgiving smile before stepping out into the snow. Soon it won't cross anyone's mind that he might harm them.
In the kitchen he asks for a heaping tray of whatever odds and ends Ariathel has saved from the lunch hour, then he sits alone at a table and eats until he can't anymore. If he has to show the wizard the roundness of his belly before they get to embark on their adventure, then fine. He'll stuff himself until it hurts.
Lorelei and Lee are difficult to track down at first, but to his great surprise, the pup runs to him and leaps into his arms. When Master Eris finds him again, they're in the garden, sans maid. Lee is bundled warmly, curled in his lap, being told a story about a brave rabbit who rescued his seven brothers from a farmer's stew. Despite the harrowing nature of the tale, however, the toddler's eyes have slipped shut and his bouncing foot has come to rest.
"And then the mean, nasty farmer saw the error of his ways and vowed to only eat vegetables and fish for the rest of his life," Gable finishes, smirking up at the wizard. "Just like me."
Jon's eyes narrow as he watches Gabe saunter out, only halfway suspicious as he listens to the man's monologue. He's just started trusting the younger man, surely he wouldn't... no, that smile as he reaches the barn door confirms it, he means none of what he said. The wizard can't help but roll his eyes as he returns to filing down Tehani's feet.
"Cheeky."
"He's funny," she snorts.
"Oh he sure thinks he is." The old man shakes his head, but there's a smile on his face. "He's growing on me, that's for sure."
"Hm. He likes you. A lot."
"Probably because most employers would have turned him away by now."
"That's part of it, surely. But there's a way he looks at you that says there's more."
"Oh? and what would that be?"
"It is the way Hosa looks at me when I pick up another foal."
"... really?" Jon can't help but drop her hoof at that and stand up straight to stare at her, hands on his hips. His tone is more disbelief than anything else.
"He is jealous. Probably of me. He wants to spend time with you, that much is obvious just by looking at how he acts around you." She lifts her foot, nonchalantly, and motions for him to continue. They're almost done, and the sooner they finish the sooner he can get back to his needy wolf pup.
Almost reluctantly, the wizard turns back to work. It only takes a few more minutes to have her hoof shaped to his satisfaction, and when he drops her foot this time, he's rewarded with a similar relief to when he first did so, seeing her shoulders relax and her back lose tension with a great exhale. A brief smile even flickers across her face.
"Thank you."
"Not a problem." He smiles too, gathering up his tools and heading off toward the tack room. "I still think that corrective shoeing will need to be in your future eventually, but for now the trims should keep you comfortable enough."
"You know how I feel about shoes."
"I also know how you feel about lameness. What will you do with your itchy feet when even a trot is too much to manage?"
She snorts, a scowl on her face as she turns back toward the stall where she stayed the night previous, intent on resting (or sulking) for a while, but she freezes with a look of confusion when she peers into the stall. Jon frowns, seeing her reaction, and decides to take a peek in himself, and lets out a quiet gasp as he takes it all in. Everything from the lean-to to the table to the hook on the wall is so incredibly thoughtful and well-planned out. He can't help but break out in a smile. That boy...
"Go on." He nudges Tehani's shoulder, encouraging her to investigate her improved lodgings. It doesn't take much, and soon she's moved right in, her glaive hung on the wall and herself comfortably curled up in the straw bedding with her torso draped over the small table.
After cleaning up the barn aisle, Jon takes some time to clean himself up. Or rather, prepare himself to get more dirty. His soft silk outer robe will need to stay home, if they're going out into the mountains. It'll be light brigandine and a cloak, he thinks, and if Blackstaff is being left behind, he'll definitely want his sword. Not that he anticipates they'll be running into trouble, but better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it. Especially if his magic is going to stay as puny as it has.
When he eventually finds the Kendalls out in the garden, he's dressed much the same as he was when he rode up the mountain a few weeks prior, with the addition of his heavy fur cloak. He likely won't be doing that any time soon unless a bout of warm weather hits and melts off some of the snow, but there's always a chance. The wizard smiles expectantly at Gabe. "Shall we find someplace warm for your pup to snooze while we see to our business?"
"Cheeky."
"He's funny," she snorts.
"Oh he sure thinks he is." The old man shakes his head, but there's a smile on his face. "He's growing on me, that's for sure."
"Hm. He likes you. A lot."
"Probably because most employers would have turned him away by now."
"That's part of it, surely. But there's a way he looks at you that says there's more."
"Oh? and what would that be?"
"It is the way Hosa looks at me when I pick up another foal."
"... really?" Jon can't help but drop her hoof at that and stand up straight to stare at her, hands on his hips. His tone is more disbelief than anything else.
"He is jealous. Probably of me. He wants to spend time with you, that much is obvious just by looking at how he acts around you." She lifts her foot, nonchalantly, and motions for him to continue. They're almost done, and the sooner they finish the sooner he can get back to his needy wolf pup.
Almost reluctantly, the wizard turns back to work. It only takes a few more minutes to have her hoof shaped to his satisfaction, and when he drops her foot this time, he's rewarded with a similar relief to when he first did so, seeing her shoulders relax and her back lose tension with a great exhale. A brief smile even flickers across her face.
"Thank you."
"Not a problem." He smiles too, gathering up his tools and heading off toward the tack room. "I still think that corrective shoeing will need to be in your future eventually, but for now the trims should keep you comfortable enough."
"You know how I feel about shoes."
"I also know how you feel about lameness. What will you do with your itchy feet when even a trot is too much to manage?"
She snorts, a scowl on her face as she turns back toward the stall where she stayed the night previous, intent on resting (or sulking) for a while, but she freezes with a look of confusion when she peers into the stall. Jon frowns, seeing her reaction, and decides to take a peek in himself, and lets out a quiet gasp as he takes it all in. Everything from the lean-to to the table to the hook on the wall is so incredibly thoughtful and well-planned out. He can't help but break out in a smile. That boy...
"Go on." He nudges Tehani's shoulder, encouraging her to investigate her improved lodgings. It doesn't take much, and soon she's moved right in, her glaive hung on the wall and herself comfortably curled up in the straw bedding with her torso draped over the small table.
After cleaning up the barn aisle, Jon takes some time to clean himself up. Or rather, prepare himself to get more dirty. His soft silk outer robe will need to stay home, if they're going out into the mountains. It'll be light brigandine and a cloak, he thinks, and if Blackstaff is being left behind, he'll definitely want his sword. Not that he anticipates they'll be running into trouble, but better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it. Especially if his magic is going to stay as puny as it has.
When he eventually finds the Kendalls out in the garden, he's dressed much the same as he was when he rode up the mountain a few weeks prior, with the addition of his heavy fur cloak. He likely won't be doing that any time soon unless a bout of warm weather hits and melts off some of the snow, but there's always a chance. The wizard smiles expectantly at Gabe. "Shall we find someplace warm for your pup to snooze while we see to our business?"
Gable's smiling eyes dance over the impressive garb before landing on the sword in its sheath. Then something falters in his expression. He can't help feeling it's a redundant accessory—how could a blade possibly protect the wizard any better than a mouth full of fangs? But then it settles on him heavily: he'd proved once already that he couldn't protect Master Eris from himself. He lowers his gaze, humbled by the trust this man is extending by accompanying him into the woods.
"He really does see both," he marvels. Man and beast, held accountable for their own actions, nothing more... and extending each their own second chances.
"I'll meet you at the cracked stump when I've settled him. It's that way, out of view of the windows."
After bedding the toddler in a nest of pillows that carry his own scent, he returns with a knapsack that's mostly empty for now, though the bottom bulges with lumps that represent a waterskin, loaf of bread, and a couple of large sausages to sate the post-transformation hunger, if need be. There's also a roll of bandages in case of any scrapes—but he'd packed that before seeing the wizard's magnificent "hiking" getup.
The last time he'd seen Master Eris in his armor, in the barn at the crack of dawn, he'd been exhausted and startled, covered in hay and not very capable of noticing details. Now as he examines the brigandine at close range, his chest flutters. "That's a lovely covering, sir. I remember seeing one just like it years ago... It was lined with silk, to help keep the body cool in the summer and warm in the winter. Do you own anything like that?" Pinny's attention to detail had earned him a small mass of loyal customers, but others had tried to imitate his work after his death. There was just one detail no one would steal from him. "And with a stamp inside, between the shoulders? It would be a peacock. Maybe with a pawprint."
He motions toward a gap in the treeline. They'll make their way a little further in before he'll offer transport, but he begins his undressing ritual now, starting by rolling his coat into the bag.
"He really does see both," he marvels. Man and beast, held accountable for their own actions, nothing more... and extending each their own second chances.
"I'll meet you at the cracked stump when I've settled him. It's that way, out of view of the windows."
After bedding the toddler in a nest of pillows that carry his own scent, he returns with a knapsack that's mostly empty for now, though the bottom bulges with lumps that represent a waterskin, loaf of bread, and a couple of large sausages to sate the post-transformation hunger, if need be. There's also a roll of bandages in case of any scrapes—but he'd packed that before seeing the wizard's magnificent "hiking" getup.
The last time he'd seen Master Eris in his armor, in the barn at the crack of dawn, he'd been exhausted and startled, covered in hay and not very capable of noticing details. Now as he examines the brigandine at close range, his chest flutters. "That's a lovely covering, sir. I remember seeing one just like it years ago... It was lined with silk, to help keep the body cool in the summer and warm in the winter. Do you own anything like that?" Pinny's attention to detail had earned him a small mass of loyal customers, but others had tried to imitate his work after his death. There was just one detail no one would steal from him. "And with a stamp inside, between the shoulders? It would be a peacock. Maybe with a pawprint."
He motions toward a gap in the treeline. They'll make their way a little further in before he'll offer transport, but he begins his undressing ritual now, starting by rolling his coat into the bag.
Jon nods quietly, not wanting to wake the toddler from his nap, and saunters off toward the woods. He knows the stump well enough, been debating on ripping it out for years, but it isn't worth the disturbance to the soil, or his routine for that matter. As he circles the stump, he finds himself deep in debate. Not about the stump, this time, but about the wall of ice that dams up his mana. He could probably bust through it. It would be loud, magically speaking, and probably frighten Gable. But he thinks there's enough of him recovered that he could possibly manage it.
"It poisons your reserves, in a way." Ramona had explained the first time he had encountered this strange feeling of being empty and tired long term. It had been immediately after she saved his life, stitching him back together with mechanical replacements for the things that had died. He remembers her holding out the vial of shimmering blue liquid to show him. "It makes the arcane energy you have unusable, like wet firewood, and prevents more from accumulating until you've recovered enough presence of mind and physical strength to dispel the blockage yourself. It keeps you from casting on instinct. Wards and defensive spells might keep you alive on the battlefield if you lose consciousness, but in the surgeon's tent that becomes more of a liability than a benefit. You sleep, I work, you get to live another day, and I don't get annoyed with your half-hearted attempts at lighting me on fire. Just cast something that requires a lot of mana when you've got the focus for it. Breaks the block right open, and everything should go back to normal. Well, as normal as things get with you."
Divination would be good. It's always taken more energy to cast those spells for him, and there are only so many ways they can go sideways if it fails—
"Thank you." He smiles as Gable reappears, a sack thrown over his shoulder, thoughts of the dam in his mind forgotten, at least for now. Instead, the wizard’s smile morphs into a smirk as he undoes the top buckle of his brigandine, showing off the faded purple of the armor’s silk lining. The armor is quickly buckled up again, though, as they start the hike further into the forest. "I do indeed. There is a maker’s mark on the inside, though it’s quite faded, and I can’t immediately recall its form. I’ve been meaning to get it re-lined, given the silk has frayed and thinned in spots, but haven’t got around to finding someone with the skill needed to do it. I have a few other sets, but I’m favorable to how comfortable this one is. Be a shame to ruin it with subpar craftsmanship on so simple a repair.”
"It poisons your reserves, in a way." Ramona had explained the first time he had encountered this strange feeling of being empty and tired long term. It had been immediately after she saved his life, stitching him back together with mechanical replacements for the things that had died. He remembers her holding out the vial of shimmering blue liquid to show him. "It makes the arcane energy you have unusable, like wet firewood, and prevents more from accumulating until you've recovered enough presence of mind and physical strength to dispel the blockage yourself. It keeps you from casting on instinct. Wards and defensive spells might keep you alive on the battlefield if you lose consciousness, but in the surgeon's tent that becomes more of a liability than a benefit. You sleep, I work, you get to live another day, and I don't get annoyed with your half-hearted attempts at lighting me on fire. Just cast something that requires a lot of mana when you've got the focus for it. Breaks the block right open, and everything should go back to normal. Well, as normal as things get with you."
Divination would be good. It's always taken more energy to cast those spells for him, and there are only so many ways they can go sideways if it fails—
"Thank you." He smiles as Gable reappears, a sack thrown over his shoulder, thoughts of the dam in his mind forgotten, at least for now. Instead, the wizard’s smile morphs into a smirk as he undoes the top buckle of his brigandine, showing off the faded purple of the armor’s silk lining. The armor is quickly buckled up again, though, as they start the hike further into the forest. "I do indeed. There is a maker’s mark on the inside, though it’s quite faded, and I can’t immediately recall its form. I’ve been meaning to get it re-lined, given the silk has frayed and thinned in spots, but haven’t got around to finding someone with the skill needed to do it. I have a few other sets, but I’m favorable to how comfortable this one is. Be a shame to ruin it with subpar craftsmanship on so simple a repair.”
Taking one look at the purple lining, Gable's face brightens like clouds parting across blue sky. He flashes a mischievous, knowing smile while listening to Master Eris praise the craftsmanship and laughs at him when he calls it a simple repair. Still walking, he holds the knapsack's strap in his teeth and pulls his arms into his shirt, then trades the strap to his hand and peels the tunic over his head and rolls it into the bag, all without missing a step.
"It… isn't as simple as one might think, sir. You had that one re-lined once before, didn't you? About nine years ago, I think, it came back to my old master's bench in a real motley state. He would have been calm as a tortoise to your face, but he griped terribly about it in the shop 'cause he'd only sold it to you two summers previously. He'd never seen one worn so thin so fast. That's why yours has got the Lockgate Armorworm silk: the kind used for royalty. It's tougher, thicker, more durable. Fatter strands with a tighter weave, but still as supple and cool as silk should be. Real nice. Real expensive. It also dulls needles somethin' fierce. He went through so many of them that week, he cussed more often than he breathed and said he ought to have charged you twice as much for bein' a pain in his left lung. Why the left one, I couldn't hardly say." He laughs softly and keeps his gaze fixed on where they're going. "Mr. Prokopis used to call me Dave. His hearing was bad and I never corrected him..."
"If the woman is still in business, I know how to get the silk for you. I can't promise my work would be as precise as Mr. Pinny's, but I could fix you up all right, if you'll allow me to try. I made three or four of those by myself near the end, and he was… well, 'pleased' certainly ain't the right word, but he nodded and put his mark with mine. Wouldn't have sold them by his own name if he didn't think they were all right. Would have sooner lit it on fire or something, I think." And that probably isn't an exaggeration. Mr. Prokopis had torn apart his own work time and time again, adjusting this or removing that until the armor felt as close to a second skin as leather and metal plates could—all while looking sleek and deceptively simple.
"If he was alive, he'd be real pleased you wouldn't trust the work to just anybody. He loved his tack and boots, too, but nothing was as important to him as making the perfect armor. His son was a soldier, you know. Died young."
When they've passed the first ten or fifteen rows of pines and the house is well out of sight and out of sound, he stops to lean his shoulder against a tree and removes his boots. "I've brought water for us both. And a little food for when I turn back. Do you want to ask me anything before we go?" His eyes are bright, his face flush from the cold, every part of him straining to let loose in a hard run, though he'll try to remember not to jostle the wizard too badly.
"It… isn't as simple as one might think, sir. You had that one re-lined once before, didn't you? About nine years ago, I think, it came back to my old master's bench in a real motley state. He would have been calm as a tortoise to your face, but he griped terribly about it in the shop 'cause he'd only sold it to you two summers previously. He'd never seen one worn so thin so fast. That's why yours has got the Lockgate Armorworm silk: the kind used for royalty. It's tougher, thicker, more durable. Fatter strands with a tighter weave, but still as supple and cool as silk should be. Real nice. Real expensive. It also dulls needles somethin' fierce. He went through so many of them that week, he cussed more often than he breathed and said he ought to have charged you twice as much for bein' a pain in his left lung. Why the left one, I couldn't hardly say." He laughs softly and keeps his gaze fixed on where they're going. "Mr. Prokopis used to call me Dave. His hearing was bad and I never corrected him..."
"If the woman is still in business, I know how to get the silk for you. I can't promise my work would be as precise as Mr. Pinny's, but I could fix you up all right, if you'll allow me to try. I made three or four of those by myself near the end, and he was… well, 'pleased' certainly ain't the right word, but he nodded and put his mark with mine. Wouldn't have sold them by his own name if he didn't think they were all right. Would have sooner lit it on fire or something, I think." And that probably isn't an exaggeration. Mr. Prokopis had torn apart his own work time and time again, adjusting this or removing that until the armor felt as close to a second skin as leather and metal plates could—all while looking sleek and deceptively simple.
"If he was alive, he'd be real pleased you wouldn't trust the work to just anybody. He loved his tack and boots, too, but nothing was as important to him as making the perfect armor. His son was a soldier, you know. Died young."
When they've passed the first ten or fifteen rows of pines and the house is well out of sight and out of sound, he stops to lean his shoulder against a tree and removes his boots. "I've brought water for us both. And a little food for when I turn back. Do you want to ask me anything before we go?" His eyes are bright, his face flush from the cold, every part of him straining to let loose in a hard run, though he'll try to remember not to jostle the wizard too badly.
Jonathan makes a variety of faces as he listens to Gabe talk about the armor, the silk, his old mentor, everything. Most of those faces are some variety of surprise, or disbelief even, but never doubt. As far fetched as his story seems, Gable has never outright lied to him, and this doesn't seem like something worth starting over. The reaction he settles on is a laugh.
"Alright, alright. If you're set on it, you can talk to Maddox about getting the materials sorted. If he gets huffy just send him my way and I'll tell him it was my idea." His expression morphs into something more somber, hearing about the man's son. That was a story he was all too familiar with. How many men had he seen die? How many men had he killed? All because they found themselves on the wrong side of a line. "Not even the finest armor can deflect all blows. War is a waste on all fronts, and the world would be better off without it."
Jon's dark mood doesn't last, luckily. Fresh, pine-scented air clears his head, and soon he's forgotten the gloom entirely. It's a lovely afternoon, cold and sunny. A marten dashes through the pine boughs overhead, causing damp snow to rain down nearby. A hawk calls in the distance. It's... nice.
"You're certain you'll recognize me?" He asks, almost timidly, in answer to Gabe's question, thumbing the pommel of the sword at his hip. "You'll recognize me, and you won't hurt me? You know I can defend myself, but I... don't want to. I don't want to need to."
"Alright, alright. If you're set on it, you can talk to Maddox about getting the materials sorted. If he gets huffy just send him my way and I'll tell him it was my idea." His expression morphs into something more somber, hearing about the man's son. That was a story he was all too familiar with. How many men had he seen die? How many men had he killed? All because they found themselves on the wrong side of a line. "Not even the finest armor can deflect all blows. War is a waste on all fronts, and the world would be better off without it."
Jon's dark mood doesn't last, luckily. Fresh, pine-scented air clears his head, and soon he's forgotten the gloom entirely. It's a lovely afternoon, cold and sunny. A marten dashes through the pine boughs overhead, causing damp snow to rain down nearby. A hawk calls in the distance. It's... nice.
"You're certain you'll recognize me?" He asks, almost timidly, in answer to Gabe's question, thumbing the pommel of the sword at his hip. "You'll recognize me, and you won't hurt me? You know I can defend myself, but I... don't want to. I don't want to need to."
Glancing up to Master Eris's eyes, Gable recognizes the same shadow that haunted Mr. Pinny some nights and frowns softly. "I've never tasted it myself, but I can't believe there's any decent excuse for hurting one another," he answers quietly.
After watching the little animal flee through the boughs with a smirk, his gaze darts to the wizard's hand. Pushing away the uneasy feeling that belongs to the moon dog who had seen Master Eris and his evil stick as a threat, he swallows and looks the man in his eyes with the full force of heartfelt truth.
"I recognized you then, sir. The trouble was that I couldn't remember you weren't like me. I saw you as a…" He hesitates to use the word that comes to mind: packmate. It's not a very dignified way of thinking, nothing his father would approve of, but then again he wasn't in a very dignified frame of mind at the time. "Like a friend. Someone I wanted to p-play with. Before that room, when I tried to pull you along by your arm, I just wanted to play." He reddens a bit through a smile. Crossing his heart he adds, "No funny business today."
"I won't be able to call you by name to prove myself when I'm the other way, but I don't want you to be afraid... What about a sort of signal? I'll… well, I'll just lie down if I recognize you. Natural critters aren't so at ease with people. That will prove my beastly instincts are put to rest, won't it? In the meantime, if you'd like to draw your sword, I won't take offense to it. I hurt you so badly before. I understand. And… Sir, I'm just so grateful you're here with me, while I… say goodbye." Bittersweet feelings mingle in his expression until they mount into a fine misty veil on his vision, which he insists on smiling through more and more until it nearly wobbles into a grimace of real tears. He turns his face away and rubs his eyes a bit too harshly, pretending they're just stung by the cold air. When he's finished acting tough, he takes a cleansing breath of that electrifying atmosphere and bounces a little, returning to the present moment.
"Ready? Stand right there. I'll back away. And please don't forget my bag." He takes the knapsack with him over to a tree, where he turns around to strip off his final layers, rolls them up neatly, then tucks his boots in with their soles facing the sky. Already shivering in his more tender form, the burn of shifting into the next is almost welcome, though still fairly unpleasant compared to how things used to be. But he keeps the uncomfortable groaning to a minimum.
A minute later, a hulking gray and brown canine is freed upon the crisp white world.
Almost immediately he is distracted by eating as much fresh snow as his maw can pack, crunching through (and spitting out) hidden sticks he picks up by accident. When his thirst is quenched, he bites the bag off the branch where his bipedal alter had left it and trots in the wizard's direction with amber gaze fixed on the man's face, tail waving behind him like the proud display of colors on a ship. But he stops short, remembering his promise, and drops the bag a moment before lowering himself to the ground. Staring up at Master Eris with intelligence that is similar but even exceeds what he'd shown in the last hours before de-shifting last time, he chuffs softly, flattens his ears, lowers his head; wiggles his rear, crawls on his belly, whines. Yawns with a squeak. Flops to his side. Anything he can think of to invite friendship. And possibly a pat or two, though he'd never dare to make it obvious.
After watching the little animal flee through the boughs with a smirk, his gaze darts to the wizard's hand. Pushing away the uneasy feeling that belongs to the moon dog who had seen Master Eris and his evil stick as a threat, he swallows and looks the man in his eyes with the full force of heartfelt truth.
"I recognized you then, sir. The trouble was that I couldn't remember you weren't like me. I saw you as a…" He hesitates to use the word that comes to mind: packmate. It's not a very dignified way of thinking, nothing his father would approve of, but then again he wasn't in a very dignified frame of mind at the time. "Like a friend. Someone I wanted to p-play with. Before that room, when I tried to pull you along by your arm, I just wanted to play." He reddens a bit through a smile. Crossing his heart he adds, "No funny business today."
"I won't be able to call you by name to prove myself when I'm the other way, but I don't want you to be afraid... What about a sort of signal? I'll… well, I'll just lie down if I recognize you. Natural critters aren't so at ease with people. That will prove my beastly instincts are put to rest, won't it? In the meantime, if you'd like to draw your sword, I won't take offense to it. I hurt you so badly before. I understand. And… Sir, I'm just so grateful you're here with me, while I… say goodbye." Bittersweet feelings mingle in his expression until they mount into a fine misty veil on his vision, which he insists on smiling through more and more until it nearly wobbles into a grimace of real tears. He turns his face away and rubs his eyes a bit too harshly, pretending they're just stung by the cold air. When he's finished acting tough, he takes a cleansing breath of that electrifying atmosphere and bounces a little, returning to the present moment.
"Ready? Stand right there. I'll back away. And please don't forget my bag." He takes the knapsack with him over to a tree, where he turns around to strip off his final layers, rolls them up neatly, then tucks his boots in with their soles facing the sky. Already shivering in his more tender form, the burn of shifting into the next is almost welcome, though still fairly unpleasant compared to how things used to be. But he keeps the uncomfortable groaning to a minimum.
A minute later, a hulking gray and brown canine is freed upon the crisp white world.
Almost immediately he is distracted by eating as much fresh snow as his maw can pack, crunching through (and spitting out) hidden sticks he picks up by accident. When his thirst is quenched, he bites the bag off the branch where his bipedal alter had left it and trots in the wizard's direction with amber gaze fixed on the man's face, tail waving behind him like the proud display of colors on a ship. But he stops short, remembering his promise, and drops the bag a moment before lowering himself to the ground. Staring up at Master Eris with intelligence that is similar but even exceeds what he'd shown in the last hours before de-shifting last time, he chuffs softly, flattens his ears, lowers his head; wiggles his rear, crawls on his belly, whines. Yawns with a squeak. Flops to his side. Anything he can think of to invite friendship. And possibly a pat or two, though he'd never dare to make it obvious.
”I hope you never have to,” Jon wants to say. ”I hope you never taste the bitterness of fighting another man’s war, all for power, for money, in the name of some creed made long ago that means little now in the face of certain death…” But the conversation moves on before he can get the knot out of his throat. It’s just as well: there’s enough tension in the air as is.
The wizard chews the inside of his mouth while Gabe speaks, digesting his words with the type of shrewdness that keeps men alive in risky situations. He’ll take the man at is word, but with a grain of salt. Gable Kendall is a good man. He means well. But the wolf? Can’t be trusted yet. There’s a chance that’ll change today. But there’s also a chance that something will go terribly wrong, that he’ll have to draw steel across the boy’s neck, leaving him a pile of bloody fur and his son fatherless. He desperately hopes that doesn’t happen. But he can’t discount that it might.
“I won’t.” He smirks, taking the tiniest of steps back. “Can’t have you showing up back home in naught but your skin. Maddox would have a conniption.”
There’s a slight trembling in his fingertips that betrays the trepidation he feels, even with his otherwise stoic exterior, as he looses the peace ties on his sword’s hilt. He doesn’t need to draw it to be ready. If he has it on hand, that will be preparation enough in case things go badly. For a minute all is tense but quiet, as the stable master disappears behind a tree.
But then.
The sound of cracking bones and the moans of a creature in pain break that silence, and Jonathan, despite expecting there would be some noise involved, still jumps has he’s startled. His hand tightens around the hilt of his sword at the first sight of fur, but he doesn’t draw it, not yet, he just waits, ready, counting the seconds as one paw, and then the other step out from behind the tree. The jaws of the beast creak open, revealing one chipped tooth among countless others that have rent his flesh before and—
It takes a bite out of the snowbank. Jon stares, more in disbelief than fear now of this monstrous canine that has decided to fill his mouth with… snow. Lots of snow, in fact. There’s a good chunk missing from the bank by the time it—he, the wizard reminds himself—comes trotting toward him, knapsack in his mouth, gaze held directly at him. Jon forces his shoulders to relax. There’s recognition in those amber eyes, and no simple animal would have the intelligence to remember to grab their clothes… it soothes his anxiety a little, seeing that, and then even more as he sees the wolf’s posturing, sees the submissiveness of his motions. When he rolls over on his side, baring his belly to him, he nods, taking a long slow breath.
“Alright.” He lets the breath out with the word as he says it, making his voice crack. He’s in there. Gable is in there somewhere, keeping his promises. Cautiously, Jon steps forward, reaching out a tentative hand to rest on the wolf’s thick-furred flank.
The wizard chews the inside of his mouth while Gabe speaks, digesting his words with the type of shrewdness that keeps men alive in risky situations. He’ll take the man at is word, but with a grain of salt. Gable Kendall is a good man. He means well. But the wolf? Can’t be trusted yet. There’s a chance that’ll change today. But there’s also a chance that something will go terribly wrong, that he’ll have to draw steel across the boy’s neck, leaving him a pile of bloody fur and his son fatherless. He desperately hopes that doesn’t happen. But he can’t discount that it might.
“I won’t.” He smirks, taking the tiniest of steps back. “Can’t have you showing up back home in naught but your skin. Maddox would have a conniption.”
There’s a slight trembling in his fingertips that betrays the trepidation he feels, even with his otherwise stoic exterior, as he looses the peace ties on his sword’s hilt. He doesn’t need to draw it to be ready. If he has it on hand, that will be preparation enough in case things go badly. For a minute all is tense but quiet, as the stable master disappears behind a tree.
But then.
The sound of cracking bones and the moans of a creature in pain break that silence, and Jonathan, despite expecting there would be some noise involved, still jumps has he’s startled. His hand tightens around the hilt of his sword at the first sight of fur, but he doesn’t draw it, not yet, he just waits, ready, counting the seconds as one paw, and then the other step out from behind the tree. The jaws of the beast creak open, revealing one chipped tooth among countless others that have rent his flesh before and—
It takes a bite out of the snowbank. Jon stares, more in disbelief than fear now of this monstrous canine that has decided to fill his mouth with… snow. Lots of snow, in fact. There’s a good chunk missing from the bank by the time it—he, the wizard reminds himself—comes trotting toward him, knapsack in his mouth, gaze held directly at him. Jon forces his shoulders to relax. There’s recognition in those amber eyes, and no simple animal would have the intelligence to remember to grab their clothes… it soothes his anxiety a little, seeing that, and then even more as he sees the wolf’s posturing, sees the submissiveness of his motions. When he rolls over on his side, baring his belly to him, he nods, taking a long slow breath.
“Alright.” He lets the breath out with the word as he says it, making his voice crack. He’s in there. Gable is in there somewhere, keeping his promises. Cautiously, Jon steps forward, reaching out a tentative hand to rest on the wolf’s thick-furred flank.
Rather than greet the hand that's being extended toward him, Gable carefully resists the urge to point his criminal muzzle in his master's direction; instead, he rests his large skull in the snow while lying almost completely still. 'Almost' because his tail continues to twitch and his ears flick with restless anticipation of what's to come after he demonstrates his capacity for tameness. When he can't stand the stillness anymore, he glances up at the man and does his best to speak a little.
"I'm gettin' up now, sir," he warns gently. His tail wags harder to emphasize his good intentions.
"It's all right."
"Don't mind me."
"Slow and easy wins the race…"
On his feet, he shakes out his fur, then tosses his head with a snort and prances around the man in a wide circle like a show pony. The charade is quite convincing; he's studied hundreds of horses in his life and admired their silky, spirited movements. He even holds his tail and neck in proud arcs and affects a long, dignified expression. But when he has come full circle, he drops his upper half into a playful bow and grins, tongue lolling to one side. The message? Your steed awaits.
He's careful to lift Master Eris off the ground slowly, then takes his time shuffling along the path sniffing some odds and ends sticking out of the snow while they both get a feel for how their bodies move together. It feels… quite natural, actually. Soon enough, he picks up to a suitable pace.
They move along at an easy trot for the next mile, weaving through the pines the way a koi glides through underwater reeds. Or perhaps like a ghost; the snow crunches beneath him, but very softly. Much softer than under boots or hooves. All the little sounds that might become lost on horseback—the soft flutter of wings, the creaking of the branches—is not lost to a wolf.
In a flash of white, a rabbit darts out of its hole and zips across their path, only to change its mind and dive back from whence it came. His ears perk and head whips to follow, entire body surging for a moment before remembering himself. With a disdainful huff, he tosses his head at the temptation to dig the critter out of its burrow and keeps trotting. He's on his best behavior, after all. Building trust. Proving that animal urges are beneath him.
But in spite of his good manners, it isn't very long before the audience above their heads take notice of the strange creature drifting through their woods. It all begins when a couple of squirrels erupt into mad chatter, then every bird—those resting in the trees and those picking diligently through the snowy underbrush for their living—scatters in alarm. Noises of panic echo in the previously quiet forest and within moments, there isn't any living thing that isn't aware of the beast's presence in their territory. Gable's ears pin back at their chastisement, but he keeps moving.
"It's much quieter at night," he wants to apologize.
Well now, he thinks. So long as his cover is blown, they might as well enjoy themselves... With just a few quick prances as a warning, he throws his head forward and bolts, sending up a spray of snowy clumps behind them. Turns and dips flash past, fallen trees are easily flown over; they often become airborne for more than a few seconds, launched by magnificent haunches and landing on soft, webbed paws. If the wizard has any inclination to try to take control, it's completely lost on the wolf. But he does avoid racing along the steepest terrain for the sake of his friend's nerves.
After some time, a mountain lion perched on a rocky outcrop ahead of them cuts a dark silhouette against its white surroundings. Confused and overwhelmed by all the warning of an intruder, it stands slightly crouched with ears flattened and eyes pointed upwards to the screaming pine boughs. Gable slows long before they reach it, but he doesn't stop. Not until they're directly beneath it, within striking distance, if it felt so inclined. His tail wags in great amusement and one booming, wooly bark sends the cat flying with a hiss up to higher ground. He laughs: a lighter, higher barking sound.
Latching onto the outcrop in a way a natural wolf could not, he climbs after it, but does not follow. Instead, they veer off to a familiar spring that still drips slowly in spite of the frost, where he wets his tongue and Master Eris can catch his breath.
"I'm gettin' up now, sir," he warns gently. His tail wags harder to emphasize his good intentions.
"It's all right."
"Don't mind me."
"Slow and easy wins the race…"
On his feet, he shakes out his fur, then tosses his head with a snort and prances around the man in a wide circle like a show pony. The charade is quite convincing; he's studied hundreds of horses in his life and admired their silky, spirited movements. He even holds his tail and neck in proud arcs and affects a long, dignified expression. But when he has come full circle, he drops his upper half into a playful bow and grins, tongue lolling to one side. The message? Your steed awaits.
He's careful to lift Master Eris off the ground slowly, then takes his time shuffling along the path sniffing some odds and ends sticking out of the snow while they both get a feel for how their bodies move together. It feels… quite natural, actually. Soon enough, he picks up to a suitable pace.
They move along at an easy trot for the next mile, weaving through the pines the way a koi glides through underwater reeds. Or perhaps like a ghost; the snow crunches beneath him, but very softly. Much softer than under boots or hooves. All the little sounds that might become lost on horseback—the soft flutter of wings, the creaking of the branches—is not lost to a wolf.
In a flash of white, a rabbit darts out of its hole and zips across their path, only to change its mind and dive back from whence it came. His ears perk and head whips to follow, entire body surging for a moment before remembering himself. With a disdainful huff, he tosses his head at the temptation to dig the critter out of its burrow and keeps trotting. He's on his best behavior, after all. Building trust. Proving that animal urges are beneath him.
But in spite of his good manners, it isn't very long before the audience above their heads take notice of the strange creature drifting through their woods. It all begins when a couple of squirrels erupt into mad chatter, then every bird—those resting in the trees and those picking diligently through the snowy underbrush for their living—scatters in alarm. Noises of panic echo in the previously quiet forest and within moments, there isn't any living thing that isn't aware of the beast's presence in their territory. Gable's ears pin back at their chastisement, but he keeps moving.
"It's much quieter at night," he wants to apologize.
Well now, he thinks. So long as his cover is blown, they might as well enjoy themselves... With just a few quick prances as a warning, he throws his head forward and bolts, sending up a spray of snowy clumps behind them. Turns and dips flash past, fallen trees are easily flown over; they often become airborne for more than a few seconds, launched by magnificent haunches and landing on soft, webbed paws. If the wizard has any inclination to try to take control, it's completely lost on the wolf. But he does avoid racing along the steepest terrain for the sake of his friend's nerves.
After some time, a mountain lion perched on a rocky outcrop ahead of them cuts a dark silhouette against its white surroundings. Confused and overwhelmed by all the warning of an intruder, it stands slightly crouched with ears flattened and eyes pointed upwards to the screaming pine boughs. Gable slows long before they reach it, but he doesn't stop. Not until they're directly beneath it, within striking distance, if it felt so inclined. His tail wags in great amusement and one booming, wooly bark sends the cat flying with a hiss up to higher ground. He laughs: a lighter, higher barking sound.
Latching onto the outcrop in a way a natural wolf could not, he climbs after it, but does not follow. Instead, they veer off to a familiar spring that still drips slowly in spite of the frost, where he wets his tongue and Master Eris can catch his breath.
It all feels quite surreal. Thick wolf fur between his fingers, the steady rise and fall of the beast's chest, the way he has to make an effort to breathe just as slowly so that he can keep his head on his shoulders. Physically, and metaphorically. There's a strange mix of fear and excitement flooding his thoughts. Gable is here, in this body, keeping himself controlled for Jon's sake.
But just like that, there's a nudge at the borders of his mind, the barest suggestion of motion, and the wolf slowly rises. The wizard watches as he prances proudly around the clearing they're in, letting out a nervous laugh as he realizes that the motions Gable is making are meant to mimic a horse's. He does remarkably well, given the differences in anatomy. And then the request comes. The wolf bows, and another nudge comes in the form of a request. The time has come to test how far his control reaches.
Cautiously, Jonathan climbs atop the wolf's shoulders. It's not so different from a horse. Gable's shoulders are narrower and pointier, but the fur helps with that. It isn't so bad at a walk, or even the little jog they maintain for a while, though he wishes he had stirrups of some kind to absorb a little bit of the shock. But then the wolf breaks into a run, and he really wishes there was some sort of saddle between him and the bounding body beneath him. He ends up knotting his fingers into the longer hair at Gabe's neck and squeezing his ribs between his knees just to keep from being launched off.
When they finally stop, the wizard finds himself out of breath, his thighs turned to jelly, and so thoroughly overwhelmed that he doesn't notice the mountain cat until Gable barks, and she is already slinking off to safer environs. "Good..." he thinks to himself, rather loosely. "One less thing to deal with..."
Jon doesn't so much dismount as he does fall off the wolf and into the cold, wet snow. He just lays there for a minute, catching his breath and hoping that feeling returns to his legs sooner rather than later. The wizard isn't worried overly much about Gable right now. The wolf has earned enough trust for him to let his guard down, at least for a little while.
But just like that, there's a nudge at the borders of his mind, the barest suggestion of motion, and the wolf slowly rises. The wizard watches as he prances proudly around the clearing they're in, letting out a nervous laugh as he realizes that the motions Gable is making are meant to mimic a horse's. He does remarkably well, given the differences in anatomy. And then the request comes. The wolf bows, and another nudge comes in the form of a request. The time has come to test how far his control reaches.
Cautiously, Jonathan climbs atop the wolf's shoulders. It's not so different from a horse. Gable's shoulders are narrower and pointier, but the fur helps with that. It isn't so bad at a walk, or even the little jog they maintain for a while, though he wishes he had stirrups of some kind to absorb a little bit of the shock. But then the wolf breaks into a run, and he really wishes there was some sort of saddle between him and the bounding body beneath him. He ends up knotting his fingers into the longer hair at Gabe's neck and squeezing his ribs between his knees just to keep from being launched off.
When they finally stop, the wizard finds himself out of breath, his thighs turned to jelly, and so thoroughly overwhelmed that he doesn't notice the mountain cat until Gable barks, and she is already slinking off to safer environs. "Good..." he thinks to himself, rather loosely. "One less thing to deal with..."
Jon doesn't so much dismount as he does fall off the wolf and into the cold, wet snow. He just lays there for a minute, catching his breath and hoping that feeling returns to his legs sooner rather than later. The wizard isn't worried overly much about Gable right now. The wolf has earned enough trust for him to let his guard down, at least for a little while.
Lapping the icewater off his maw (and dripping flecks of it onto the wizard's face) Gable stares down sympathetically at the sprawled figure before him. Poor man. A soft whine and a damp nose pressed to Master Eris's cheek form an honest apology. He should have been more considerate before jostling him like a sack of mail…
He'll do his best to take those considerations now.
Within a very short time, he has dug a ditch in the snow beside his master: a patch of dry ground at least as long as the man's body and wide enough for several of him to lie comfortably. Then he flops onto his side in the dry patch and motions with his muzzle and a quizzical huff to his soft, warm, dry side. An invitation to recline. As much as he'd like to offer impressions of his recent cuddle with the bull to emphasize the request, he knows Master Eris's shields are far too strong for such a direct concept. He just hopes memory will point out the similarities.
He'll do his best to take those considerations now.
Within a very short time, he has dug a ditch in the snow beside his master: a patch of dry ground at least as long as the man's body and wide enough for several of him to lie comfortably. Then he flops onto his side in the dry patch and motions with his muzzle and a quizzical huff to his soft, warm, dry side. An invitation to recline. As much as he'd like to offer impressions of his recent cuddle with the bull to emphasize the request, he knows Master Eris's shields are far too strong for such a direct concept. He just hopes memory will point out the similarities.
Jon grunts at the cold water that drips on his face, his eyes closed as he takes a minute to reacclimatize himself to being not at the mercy of a predator's spring-like back. Perhaps Lee had had a better time of it, being smaller and less prone to weight shifts. Given time (and perhaps the advent of some equipment to aid in the mobile back issue), he's sure he could get used to it. The adrenaline rush of dashing through the trees at such speed and agility had been amazing, and today? Well worth the discomfort.
"Good boy..." He mutters, patting Gabe's ear when a wet nose is pressed to his cheek, then lets out a long sigh. When he opens his eyes again, the wolf has stretched himself out in a patch of ground devoid of snow and is beckoning with its muzzle toward its flank, an action which is accompanied by another mental nudge.
It takes him a minute to figure out what this one means. There are a lot of emotions attached to it, but they're all positive. Warm. Tired. Happy. Close. After some thought, the meaning becomes clear, but he hesitates. If the wolf hasn't bit or attacked him by now, he's not likely to start. And that patch of dry ground does look inviting. The wizard lets out a huff, then props himself up and scoots over until his upper half rests against Gable's ribcage.
It feels like being swallowed, after a fashion. Swallowed by a soft, warm cloud, to be precise. He can't help the long heavy sigh that slips out, and he decides that this is a much preferable location to take a short rest than the patch of snow he had been in previously.
Ten minutes pass, and as he slowly catches up to things Jonathan comes to realize something. There's a peculiar scent on the air, something akin to ozone and fallen leaves. Musty, wet. He wrinkles his nose, glancing around before scrambling to his feet, dropping Gable's knapsack near the wolf's front paws before pacing around the clearing, head held high as he sniffs around, searching for the source of the smell.
There's magic somewhere, and it's not his.
"Good boy..." He mutters, patting Gabe's ear when a wet nose is pressed to his cheek, then lets out a long sigh. When he opens his eyes again, the wolf has stretched himself out in a patch of ground devoid of snow and is beckoning with its muzzle toward its flank, an action which is accompanied by another mental nudge.
It takes him a minute to figure out what this one means. There are a lot of emotions attached to it, but they're all positive. Warm. Tired. Happy. Close. After some thought, the meaning becomes clear, but he hesitates. If the wolf hasn't bit or attacked him by now, he's not likely to start. And that patch of dry ground does look inviting. The wizard lets out a huff, then props himself up and scoots over until his upper half rests against Gable's ribcage.
It feels like being swallowed, after a fashion. Swallowed by a soft, warm cloud, to be precise. He can't help the long heavy sigh that slips out, and he decides that this is a much preferable location to take a short rest than the patch of snow he had been in previously.
Ten minutes pass, and as he slowly catches up to things Jonathan comes to realize something. There's a peculiar scent on the air, something akin to ozone and fallen leaves. Musty, wet. He wrinkles his nose, glancing around before scrambling to his feet, dropping Gable's knapsack near the wolf's front paws before pacing around the clearing, head held high as he sniffs around, searching for the source of the smell.
There's magic somewhere, and it's not his.
Even with his sharp snout pressed to the wizard’s face, inches from his throat, mere seconds from plausible destruction... the man's eyes remain shut. Trusting. Peaceful.
"Good boy."
Gable bears the slight humiliation of that phrase with a grateful sigh. In a single moment he is cleansed, mended, restored, nourished... In a word, he feels forgiven. Wholly.
Master Eris's weight as he reclines against him to recover from their romp is also surprisingly reassuring. The closeness. His scent. Companionship. As time passes, the forest inhabitants settle down into their natural hush, occasionally broken by the rapping of a woodpecker or a hawk's cry. His thick ears swivel to capture the rustle of underbrush nearby—something harmless that doesn't require investigation. Gable takes advantage of the lull to chew dirt out of the ridges of his underclaws and pick gritty pebbles from the webbing between his toes. He has never been one to keep dirt in his nails, if it can be helped. Oftentimes it can't.
When the wizard rises suddenly, he points his chin straight up to observe the twoleg upside-down. Going to relieve himself on a tree, perhaps? In that case, he probably ought to look away... but there's something strange about Master Eris’s expression.
Startled by the sack dropping near his face, the wolf is briefly distracted by the tantalizing aroma of peppered meat seeping out of it. But his master's peculiar behavior wins his attention in the end, and he hauls to his paws with an inquisitive noise followed by a yawn. Sharp eyes scan between lines of pine trunks and he, too, scents the air for traces of anything unusual.
It doesn't come to him at first; his powerful physical senses overwhelm the other, slightly more nebulous sense of presence until all at once he can identify a pungent, nearly metallic odor mixed with natural decay.
Reluctant to give up his fur too soon, he snatches the bag by its strap in his maw and follows with his gaze fixed on the master's lead.
"Good boy."
Gable bears the slight humiliation of that phrase with a grateful sigh. In a single moment he is cleansed, mended, restored, nourished... In a word, he feels forgiven. Wholly.
Master Eris's weight as he reclines against him to recover from their romp is also surprisingly reassuring. The closeness. His scent. Companionship. As time passes, the forest inhabitants settle down into their natural hush, occasionally broken by the rapping of a woodpecker or a hawk's cry. His thick ears swivel to capture the rustle of underbrush nearby—something harmless that doesn't require investigation. Gable takes advantage of the lull to chew dirt out of the ridges of his underclaws and pick gritty pebbles from the webbing between his toes. He has never been one to keep dirt in his nails, if it can be helped. Oftentimes it can't.
When the wizard rises suddenly, he points his chin straight up to observe the twoleg upside-down. Going to relieve himself on a tree, perhaps? In that case, he probably ought to look away... but there's something strange about Master Eris’s expression.
Startled by the sack dropping near his face, the wolf is briefly distracted by the tantalizing aroma of peppered meat seeping out of it. But his master's peculiar behavior wins his attention in the end, and he hauls to his paws with an inquisitive noise followed by a yawn. Sharp eyes scan between lines of pine trunks and he, too, scents the air for traces of anything unusual.
It doesn't come to him at first; his powerful physical senses overwhelm the other, slightly more nebulous sense of presence until all at once he can identify a pungent, nearly metallic odor mixed with natural decay.
Reluctant to give up his fur too soon, he snatches the bag by its strap in his maw and follows with his gaze fixed on the master's lead.
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