prideofdelbray

[prideofdelbray]

sharpshadows​:

Another jerk, his legs held as tight to either side as he possibly could, Volke had to brace an arm against the general’s shoulder to keep himself from sliding all the way out of the saddle. “Don’t-!”

Finally the beast slowed. 

Fitfully, and with a shake of his head, Dashing pattered beside the stable fence, nearly in the same spot as he’d initially raced off. He made some ridiculous horse sound and came to a halt beside the mare.

There.

“Forgive him,” Geoffrey offered, if through gritted teeth as he held steady so that Volke could regain his balance. Leave it to Dashing to make a fool of them both in front of the Fireman of all people. “He’s not been allowed a run in some time. I’m confident he’ll behave once we set out.” 

It was a shame Willow wouldn’t do. Temperamental as she could be on the road, Dashing was still the better choice for a rider so...disinclined, as Volke seemed to be at the moment. 

[prideofdelbray]

rutger-of-sacae​:

“I just… feel something? Like when I’m moving a lot, all of a sudden I cannot move anymore? Tired? Is it called being tired? Stamina? Running out of stamina? Me?’

Rutger’s whole world was starting to fall apart even more than it already had. Rutger decided to plop his butt onto the floor to process what was happening to his body.

“Yes, rest there a moment,” Geoffrey said, kneeling beside the stranger. Perhaps he was only dehydrated, so strange his speech and behavior. “Some water should do you well.”

He whistled at a watchman posted on the corner of the road, and waved until she noticed and started over. Hopefully she had a flask, or would be able to procure one swiftly.

[prideofdelbray]

rutger-of-sacae​:

Ranked City Trial

Rutger was scaling a wall when all of a sudden he was not feeling it anymore and fell 10 feet. Weird, but not the weirdest thing ever so Rutger just brushed it off. Later, he was sprinting to his destination, but all of a sudden he was not feeling it anymore again.

“What the fuck. Something is not right.”

Geoffrey frowned, glancing the passing stranger over. A foreigner, but from where he could not tell. 

“Hail,” he called out. “Is something amiss, sir?”

[prideofdelbray]

🦄 for a physical health headcanon

…

//Geoffrey works out a lot, he’s kind of a jock XD He’s the kind of guy that gets surly and annoyed with too much pent up energy if he hasn’t had the opportunity to do something physical. Riding, wrestling, quarterstaff, some archery, Geoffrey just likes to be active. He’s in very good physical shape, and works at it. Part of that is because of how he was kept inside as a child. He was rather weak and sickly early on, and in an attempt to keep him protected his parents were rather overbearing in keeping him from anything considered too strenuous. For many years, while his sister and the duchy children were out playing Geoffrey was inside watching them through the window.

[prideofdelbray]

❖ How would you have felt had the Greil Mercenaries not rescued your sister from execution?

It isn’t the dark he registers first, when Geoffrey lurches forward from the sheets, newly awake and drenched in sweat. His heart is a drum, thrumming and pounding and spreading fire to the extent of every limb. A moment passes before he can breathe. Air fills his chest in a ragged inhale, a burning pass of breath that hisses between his clenched teeth.

This nightmare is nothing new. A dreary parade of images assaulting his slumber. First the rope, then the heckling crowd beneath the grey skies. Geoffrey is always alone in these visions. More alone than he was that horrid day. But strangely, terribly, his sister is never alone at the end of the parade. 

Duke Renning swings beside her. And Elincia beside him. Then his father, then his lover, then his knights-.

“Enough,” Geoffrey chokes out, but it is only a whisper. A pathetic whisper from a pathetic man.

From a man that did nothing while a traitor put a rope around his sister’s neck. 

[prideofdelbray]

sharpshadows​:

Another lurch, another snapped cuss that did nothing to slow this godawful creature, and Dashing made a turn sharp enough that one of Volke’s boots slipped from the stirrups. 

“Dashing!”  he snarled, forcing his thighs tight to either edge of the saddle. He couldn’t keep himself upright entirely, but still slid far enough to the side to see the stable come back into view. “Stop!”

He turned on a bit, Dashing such a responsive steed for as foolish as he could be. Too sharp of a turn, actually, Volke left nearly hanging. “Ho there,” Geoffrey called, jogging forward with an arm out to catch whatever of the harness that he possibly could. 

Dashing hardly slowed as he made as if to race past, and neighed in such impatience when Geoffrey’s managed to snag the slack of the left rein as it flapped in the wind. “Hold!” he demanded, furrows left in the mud as he braced his heels and held.

[prideofdelbray]

sharpshadows​:

Fucking beast. 

“Hey!” Volke snapped, scrambling for the reins. He had to grab the saddle horn just to keep from tipping back at Dashing’s first lurch. “Knock it off!" 

Dashing didn’t. He threw his head and made some noise over the sound of his hooves, like he was a wild thing instead of a knight’s mount. Even after Volke snagged the flapping reins Dashing didn’t slow, but just put his head down and went. 

"Dashing!" Geoffrey barked, a second too slow in catching a hand in the saddle straps. "Hold, damn you!" 

But no, of course Dashing didn't listen. Geoffrey'd not taken him for a ride in a fortnight or more, it was no great surprise that he'd dashed off the moment he thought it appropriate. 

Geoffrey gave chase, little though he could hope to catch up, and gave the sharpest and surely most irate whistle as Dashing had ever heard. 

[prideofdelbray]

sharpshadows​:

prideofdelbray​:

Well, no time like the present.

Dashing didn’t waver enough to make getting a foot in the first stirrup an issue, held decently in place by the general’s grip as Volke swung his leg over. The straps were just loose enough that Volke could kick free if needed. 

“Here,” he said, holding a hand out for the reins. Saddled now, maybe the horse would quit acting the fool and just let Volke quietly exist on his back.

If so, maybe he could start to piece together why exactly Crimea’s foremost knight was hiding out in the countryside. 

Perhaps his estimation of Volke’s nerves had been overblown. He was saddled, calm in tone and demeanor. Dashing was decently behaved, though perhaps only because he knew the scolding he'd receive otherwise. 

"Don't let him decide his own way," Geoffrey instructed as he passed the reins, patting Dashing's shoulder. "Else he'll decide to just-."

To just bolt, which is exactly what Dashing did when Geoffrey lifted his hand.

[prideofdelbray]

sharpshadows​:

A step brought Volke close enough to the fence to hang the rejected saddle on a post, and also a step away from where Dashing was nosing aggressively at the general’s boots.  He leaned against the frame, eyeing the dark clouds on the far edge of the horizon. Wasn’t sure how fast they were moving yet. Be nice not to spend another day drenched. “Didn’t think your last mount was old enough to replace.”

“Not quite,” Geoffrey replied, tugging the saddle pad to lay straighter before setting the panel and flaps, not that Dashing’s fidgeting helped matters.  “Constance still gets around well, but I doubt she has more than a few years left of any sort of rigorous exercise. Given the nature of my departure, I took Dashing in the hopes that-.”

Ah, fool! He’d not meant keep on like that. Apparently he was more starved for conversation than he’d thought. 

“Good opportunity to give him some more direct attention,” Geoffrey finished, if rather lamely. Though perhaps getting Volke saddled would be enough distraction. “Here,” he continued hurried, patting the secured leathers and straps, “climb up. You’re about my height, so I left the stirrups as they were.”

[prideofdelbray]

sharpshadows​:

As if that would help. 

Volke held out the more worn of the two saddles and eyed where Dashing was investigating something on the ground. A mistake, for the fool horse apparently felt the weight of his eyes and lifted his head with a trilling inquisitive noise.

“He always this…active?” 

That wasn’t the right word, but there was little more foolish than casting shade on a Crimean man’s steed. 

Geoffrey snorted as he reached past the offered saddle to take the newer of the two. “Like I said, he’s friendly. And rather young.” 

The buckles were better crafted, the straps less likely to slip and loosen over a ride. So...uncertain as Volke already appeared at the prospect of manning Dashing, it was best to leave nothing to chance. “I worry that the day I finally take him to battle he’ll be more interested in making the enemy’s acquaintance than in taking a lane.”

[prideofdelbray]

sharpshadows​:

“Friendly isn’t the word I’d use,” Volke muttered as the general took both his fool horse and the mare towards the stable gates. He put an agitated hand through his hair before shutting the open stall. The neighboring horse gave him a side eye afterwards.

There were only enough fittings for two mounts hung on the rack beside the gate, one set faded leather and the other embellished with the sort of needlework that spoke to a certain level of society. Volke took both in hand and trailed after Dashing’s shadow. 

Maybe he’d just take the mare, stubborn or not. 

The air outside wasn’t so humid as Geoffrey had feared after a night of rain. Even the sun was shaded by a haze of early morning clouds, the light enough to get about but not so strident that Geoffrey felt its heat. 

Dashing wickered once beyond the stable doors, the same happy sound he always made when he suspected a ride was at hand. Geoffrey spared him a stroke before tossing both leads over the fence rail. “Here,” he said, holding his hand out for a saddle. “I’ll dress Dashing first, give you a moment to get used to him.” 

[prideofdelbray]

sharpshadows​:

The stall door swung open easily after being unlatched, but Volke had to slide a rapid step back when the fool horse decided it wasn’t opening quite fast enough. Dashing thrust the door forth with his shoulder as he stepped out…and continued right into Volke’s face. 

“Hey,” Volke tried again, terser than before. He put an arm out to try for some distance, the feel of a horse always strange under his hand. “Quit, alright?”

Dashing didn’t quit, but decided instead to snuff at Volke’s hair and press further into his space. 

It only took a whistle, though one that became sharper when he was initially  ignored, for Dashing to leave off and comes towards Geoffrey’s outstretched hand. He likely expected a treat for his terrible manners. “He’s quite friendly,” Geoffrey said aloud, taking hold of his steed’s bridle once in reach. “You don’t need to worry about him snapping at you or anything like that.”

All true, but Dashing was still large and obtuse enough to bowl a body over if neither were paying attention. Usually that was an unlikely concern when considering the Fireman.

But as he was now, and as playful as Dashing liked to be, maybe it would be better to just saddle Willow and have Volke ride at his back.

[prideofdelbray]

sharpshadows‌:

Dashing settled enough that he wasn’t thrusting his head out quite as aggressively, but Volke didn’t feel much the better for it. The horse still had a wild looking gleam in his eyes. 

“…Hello,” Volke tried again, tone less friendly than before. He lifted his hand only enough that Dashing could scent his knuckles if he liked. Be fine if he didn’t. It’d be more than fine, preferred even, if Volke could just not…not have to do more than get in the saddle and sit back. If he was lucky Dashing would just follow Geoffrey down the road without any prompting. 

He’d not been lucky in a while, so surely Volke was due. 

A whistle and Willow stepped out easily, though Geoffrey’s attention was more focused across the aisle. 

Dashing made a friendly noise and dipped down to meet the back of Volke’s hand, as personable as he ever was around someone new. As excitable as well. “There,” Geoffrey said, quietly amused. He’d forgotten how awkward Volke could be around horseflesh. “Take him around front, I’ll get him dressed for you.”

If Dashing behaved at least as decently as he was at the moment, then perhaps Volke would settle as well.

Old Adversary

[prideofdelbray]

sharpshadows‌:

Not yet, maybe.

Volke sighed quietly in his throat and pushed away from the stall door, more petulant than he usually allowed himself. Horses were just so damn difficult. 

“Fine,” he said again, a low mutter that did nothing to ease the new tension climbing his spine. It wouldn’t have mattered had this been the general’s old horse. At least Volke would have been familiar enough with the beast not to wonder.

This new one though….

Whatever. Volke crossed the aisle and paused in front of Dashing’s stall, hands in his pockets and resignation on his face. “…Hey.”

The stall swung open, though Willow didn’t take the opportunity to bolt. While rather headstrong when saddled, she was calm enough that Geoffrey never worried after her otherwise. A stark contrast to Dashing, who immediately chirped in his usual enthusiasm after Volke’s terse hello. He was even straining forward over the stall door as if to demand a proper introduction. 

“Quit that,” Geoffrey called to Dashing, reaching for Willow’s bridle with one hand as he held the door open with the other. “Put your hand out to him, Volke. Greet him as you would a man.”

Geoffrey smiled to himself then, but bit his lip on the comment that Volke was likely little practiced in any greeting that didn’t involve skulking about in shadows.  

Old Adversary

[prideofdelbray]

sharpshadows‌:

Volke put his hands in his jacket pockets and leaned back against the stall before the gate could swing open. “Why don’t we just take yours?” He nodded across to the horse Geoffrey had hushed on the way in. “Delbray’s not that far.”

It’d be closer quarters than he ever preferred, and likely a longer ride, but Volke didn’t mind sacrificing either his space or a few hours if that meant he didn’t have to pretend to know how to firm hand a horse. 

Geoffrey let his hand slack on the latch and looked over his shoulder, though Dashing only pawed at the stable floor all the more aggressively now that he had an audience.

“No, I suppose it isn’t,” he agreed, shifting his eyes to Volke. It seemed a rather strange request, considering what he knew the man to be like. “Though I’m afraid Dashing is still being trained. He tends to get surly when faced with anything unknown, and I’ve not had a second rider on him before.” He nodded back at Willow then, re-gripping the latch. “Though if you don’t think you can handle her, I’ll just have you take Dashing. He’s never bucked anyone.”

Old Adversary

[prideofdelbray]

sharpshadows‌:

—-

He didn’t mind horses the way some did. Volke was fine near them, or even interacting with the curious ones that were sure he had a treat tucked away that just needed to be aggressively sussed out, but on one…

It wasn’t even being on a horse. Volke could share a saddle fine, so long as he knew the person actually handling the reins as capable. But being on one by himself… being tasked with making the horse just….do what a horse was supposed to do was….

It was issue, sometimes. 

“Hey,” Volke offered the same grey that he’d noticed last night. The horse was larger than he recalled. He came near enough to offer the back of his hand over the stall door. “You easy?”

The horse glanced at his hand and flared its dark nostrils. 

“…Fine,”  Volke muttered. He dropped his hand and looked over at the general’s horse. Been a while since they’d shared a ride, but maybe Geoffrey wouldn’t mind. 

The stable attendant hadn’t been by yet.

Geoffrey could tell from the doorway, as none of the lanterns had been lit. The dawn light bleeding through the windows was enough to bathe the floor and some of the stalls in pale light. 

Dashing began stomping so soon as he was through the door, something petulant in the toss of his mane. Geoffrey hushed him and dropped his luggage before stepping towards where Volke was lingering before a large grey.

“Willow will suit you?” He patted the mare’s thick neck and began to reach for the stall latch. “She’s rather stubborn, but will follow a firm lead.” 

Old Adversary

[prideofdelbray]

sharpshadows‌:

A mount. Volke didn’t mutter, or even let his face twist at the thought. He just pushed and stretched his arms overhead and waited a long moment until he heard something audibly catch in his left shoulder. There was something wrong with it, a recent issue that Volke could trace to an incident more than a week past, but he’d not had the opportunity to have a it dealt with. Or really the gold. 

Maybe he could shave a little off the general’s payment, finally tend himself a bit. It wasn’t so late in the year that he couldn’t scrounge up a few late gigs as needed.

Or maybe this job would lead to something more lucrative. Never could be sure with this particular circle of Crimeans. 

A glance over, and Volke dropped his arms and headed towards the door. “I’ll head down.”

And maybe find himself a horse he could handle before the general joined him.

It didn’t take long to be ready once he’d doused the hearth and secured the shutters. The most a servant might need do is tend to the dirty dishes and refresh the bedclothes, maybe finally take a broom to the floor and corners of the ceiling. Geoffrey hardly had much to his name. His purse and letters tucked away in a side satchel, his clothes and personnel affects similarly stowed in a saddle pack, he cast around another look at the room he’d been occupying most the season. 

He saw much as he felt within. Dingy walls. Ill-tended furnishings. Lonely empty space. 

A worthless thought, but one that dogged at the back of his mind as Geoffrey took the stairs and shut the empty away. 

Old Adversary