Completed [Windmount] Flesh, carved from the wind.(Oriah)

[Marrick Corvis]

Morning Winter 4th, 513AV The day was growing into something beautiful. The clouds had parted to let the sun come in and bake off some of the frosty mist that had clung to the early morning twilight. Marrick had been wounded the night before and what was once a gashed limb now only gave off a dull ache. Krolar Poultice was some amazing stuff. Sloppy, yet it pleasantly smelled of wildflowers. Add a night of good sleep, and a good breakfast. He was beginning to think he could get used to living like this. The young KeIvic felt energized and excited. It was as if he felt a song in the air, and it filled his heart with hope. If only he could express its beautiful complexity he would sing its magic. Instead he settled for carrying on tunelessly, his cheer spilling out of him in a hum or a whistle. With a twinkle in his eye he cast a glance upon his new friend. She was a kindness on the eye and a compassionate companion, like none he’d ever met. The Benshira seemed to always wear a smile on her face that defied the early morning dampness that clung to the city. Had the Kelvic known better he would have sworn it was her light that made the day warm and not Syna’s that fought back the winter clouds. Marrick could not be certain, though he could have sworn that she had unconsciously struck up his tune from time to time. It had been a fair walk from the White Swan, but well worth the trip. As soon as they had crossed through the battlements into the Windmount District, Marrick could almost instantaneously smell it. It was an intricate union of animal manure, feed, fish oil and grass. The scent seemed to permeate the air filling the Kelvic with a wild and restless longing to take flight and let his animal side roam for a spell. The thrill of it made him pause just inside the gate. Like a wine aficionado he took a deep breath through his nose and rested his hands on his hips contentedly. “Do ye smell it, Oriah? Loife fills thes place. So many men, baird, and beast all together,” He said almost redolently. With a blissful smile on his face, he exhaled a long sigh of gratification. Then with a brief stretch, he took up his tuneless whistle again as they walked on. As they drew closer to the stables, Marrick heard the familiar tattoo of heavy horse beating the ground. However, the sound was not before them as it should have been. But bore down on them from behind. With a swift turn of his head he spun about to see a troupe of riders as they bore down on them on the trail. In that split second before he recognized the impending danger, he was filled with excitement as he watched the riders and their steeds pushing headlong toward their destination. They seemed so full of strength, and powerful energy. Though, concern quickly began to take its place as it seemed clear that the riders were not aware of their presence on the trail. Marrick didn’t even realize he had tossed his pack aside, as instinct acted on his limbs. With a shocking deftness he embraced Oriah protectively, and with a sweeping motion he forced them both into a controlled tumble safely off of the trail. He held her tightly, cradling both neck and back, as they gently rolled to a stop. The thundering of hooves became a distant drum beat against the ground, as Marrick gathered his sensitivities again. He was panting away excess adrenaline when he lifted his head to check if the danger had passed. He glared at the riders backs as they disappeared from sight. “Bloody gobshyke-, I wonder h-” He had vexingly begun to spout when he realized he was not laying against the cool ground, but Oriah’s warmth filled, soft, and surprisingly yielding body. When he brought his gaze down upon her all memory of why he was angry was lost as he looked into her eyes. He held her in that moment, and all he could manage to say was a whispered “Oh.” His face burned like a brand, as his mind seemed as if it had gone on holiday. All he could do as the ticks rolled by was look longingly into those sky blue eyes of hers, the whole while his cheeks felt as if they had been put to the torch. He was lost in the sky he saw through the two windows of her soul, until at last he blinked. Reality came crashing back down like the crest of a wave against the shore and the awkwardness of the situation hit him almost as hard. “O-Oi’m sorry!” he stammered as he rolled off of her in what he felt was as awkward as possible. In truth it had been adeptly graceful, but the situation had its own way of coloring things in one’s mind.

[Oriah]

Despite her pre-convictions about walking head first into the enemy's lair, Oriah found herself basking in Syna's faint but present touch and bobbing her head along with the squire's merry humming. Once or twice, she even caught herself singing along in a muted hum of her own, only to fade away as the notes once again became unfamiliar. The Benshira wanted to be just a little bit cross with him for getting straight back to his duties, wounded as he was, but she could not.

His seemingly inextinguishable good cheer and determination was contagious. She felt like he could travel to the edge of the world and back, should he so desire, and she would have no choice but to follow him, drawn and tied like moth to light or tails to a kite. Follow anywhere, everywhere. To their bitter but glorious demise, if need be.

Or, even, away from Priah.

She could have dwelled on what might or might not have been instilling such ludicrous thoughts in her head, but she did not. After so many years of moving from one place to another, ever changing, never stagnant, she'd learned the pattern of her habits. If she spent too much time worrying about things that had not happened yet, or mysteries she could not yet explain, she would miss the beauty unfurling for just a few, precious moments before her. The dancer felt she had repeated such deplorable habits one too many times this morning already. Though, to be fair, she had been up against pure wizardry.

In any case, she decided to relinquish her worries for another time, another day. And, given her present company of a certain, bright eyed squire exuding nothing but joyous appreciation for the here and now, it would be a crime not to heed her past mistakes.

A sliver of doubt, however, began to crawl amongst her thoughts as that tell tale scent of manure and feed invaded her nose. Just as she was about to balk, Marrick swept in again with his infallible charm. He was bursting with bliss at the very scent of co-existing life. His affinity shone so strongly it near put her to shame over the half-formed complains that had wormed their way through her defenses.

Oriah beamed up at the squire, glad for his company in a place she would have otherwise avoided like the plague. Only to have her sunny smile shatter to growing alarm as the sound of hoofs galloping hard against the ground drew near behind them.

She spun as soon as Marrick did and watched the incoming riders with pure, unadulterated fear.

Run! Move! Anything! the Benshira tried to command herself. Her limbs would not budge, stricken with roots that dug deep into her psyche. The horses were not yet close enough to see the whites of their riders' eyes, but she was already imagining the impact of hooves against her flesh, the burn of skin as they dragged her across the street before trampling her to death.

A sudden force knocked into her and sent her crashing to the ground. Too fast, Oriah panicked in her mind as her feet could no longer find solid purchase and she rolled across the trail, how did they hit me so fast? I'm dead. Their hooves...the pain...any moment now...

The thunder of metal and beastly panting rushed toward her prone form. Then it passed, like a storm cloud, until it all but disappeared.

It wasn't until Marrick raised his head and started speaking that Oriah realized three things. The first, that her eyes were squeezed shut. Second, that her fingers were clutching at clothes other than her own. And third, that the squire was lying directly on top of her, which she confirmed once her first revelation was remedied.

More than a little dazed, Oriah's fingers loosened as she stared, transfixed, into the pale clarity of his eyes, her mind struggling to orient itself from its new angle of the world. The overwhelming panic and terror that the horses had invoked were receding, but her breath still came short and quick, and her heart was beating fifty different kinds of rhythms. Above her, the squire had acquired a vivid flush to his face as his gaze, filled with an intensity that made her glad of her prone position, bore into hers openly. Somehow, she got the feeling her troubled breathing and the reckless beating of her heart had little to do with the unexpected danger.

He was warm, and through her palms she could feel his solid form and similarly, rapidly beating heard beneath his clothing. And though, under any other circumstances, she might have been scrambling to get back on her feet by now for fear of the dreaded beasts returning to finish the deed, the Benshira did not. Strange, that she should feel so unafraid now when, moments before, her courage and wits had winked out like candlelight in the face of certain danger.

Wizadry.

Reality seemed to have sunk in faster for Marrick than it did for her, as the squire was now profusely apologizing and rolling back into his feet, nerves all awry. For a moment, Oriah simply lay there, lamenting how his chivalry had blanketed her so thickly in warmth that she no longer minded the Winter air, then left it bereft of his heat when she yearned for it most.

"There's nothing to be sorry for," the Benshira almost but not quite lied. With reluctance, she groaned and got back onto her feet, patting the dust from her coat as she scanned the horizon for more horses. When the coast was presumed safe and devoid of thundering, people-trampling beasts, she relaxed a little and smiled at the squire. "I believe we're even now. A life for a life."

In the spur of the moment, Oriah leaned forward and planted a small kiss on his dusty cheek. It was smooth and firm, and she relished its flustered warmth. "Thank you," the Benshira murmured, still beaming, "for saving my life."

Settling back on the heels of her boots, she looked down the trail with less than utmost exuberance. "Shall we proceed and find you a nice, skull crushing horse then?"

[Marrick Corvis]

Marrick stood in shock at what he had just done. He had saved Oriah’s life to be sure. Yet, he almost wished that he had simply pushed her out of the way and taken the trampling of the horses in her stead. Wild anxiety now gripped his heart and clouded his mind such that he felt as if his arms were moving through water. He couldn’t even dust himself off he was so nervous for her reaction. ‘Mother Raven, be koind.’ He thought to himself. The Kelvic was contemplating just simply transforming before her and flying away into self-imposed exile. Yet, as she rose from the ground and gingerly dusted herself off he saw no crossness in her movement, nor a foul word upon her lips. Yet he waited with baited breath. He was ready for a ragging, and it would have been less than he deserved. As Oriah fixed him with a kindly and genuine smile, he realized that his worries were unfounded. She absolved him of his fools guilt and his debts, which made him shake his head at how stupid he was for even thinking that she would be upset at him for protecting her. Regardless of what position they had found themselves in after. Oriah was wise, and forgiving. The relief he experienced made him exhale softly as he looked away, the mildest sheen of shameful red blush still on his cheeks. With relief, he shut his eyes to the world for just a moment and retreated into the recesses of his mind to try and think. Then with the tender press of something against his check, his embarrassment was snuffed out like a candle in the dark bosom of the night. His eyes flashed open as he realized that Oriah had kissed his cheek. No one had ever done that before. The dawning realization of its meaning took shape as she thanked him, yet that did nothing to stop his astonishment. Absentmindedly he touched the place where she had kissed him and felt the lingering warmth of it against his skin. Only for it to be covered up by the rising heat in his cheeks again. “Twas nothin.” He whispered soft as silk, as he struggled to recover from such tender contact. In a brief moment of clarity he realized just how astounding it was that something so subtle could shatter resolve, uncontrolled embarrassment and wild emotion. He would have to remember that. He at last began to gather himself, a smile forming on his face as innocent and tender as the kiss she had given him. “A skull crushin harse… aye.” He mumbled still half dreaming, before he shook his head realizing he sounded a bumbling fool. “Oi, wait, that’s not roight. Oi don’t want a skull crushin brute.” He said as he gathered up his pack, and slung it again with a slight wince at the ache in his arm. His wit and smile at last returned to him as he turned his gaze down the trail to the stables. “If Oi found moyself a harse loike that, Oi’d never see ye again.” He chuckled. With a little smile now resting upon his lips, he locked his pale blue eyes with her pooling of azure. “And Oi wouldn’ want that.” Boldly he reached out for her hand, and as his fingers entwined with hers, he squeezed gently. His little smile now grew to a smirking grin as a true challenge came to his voice. “A challenge fer us then. Let’s foind us a harse that ye loike.” He said, a mischievous twinkle shining in the mote of his eye, just before he winked at her. Marrick didn’t let go of her hand for a spell as they walked on. Her hand felt warm, and remarkable. It was a tether to her light, or the touch of Syna against his typically cool hands. Though, when at last he let go, the warmth seemed to stay. Almost as if it had found its way into his heart and now rested there, a glowing ember in watery depth of his breast. Normally Marrick hated the silence, but he had so much to think about as they walked the wandering trail to the Windmount stables. Yet his smile did not falter. It only waxed and waned as they tread softly through the dirt. Occasionally he would bring himself to watch her furtively, only to look away when she caught him staring. As they neared the stables, the morning air was filled with the commotion of many horses as they jostled and whinnied from their stalls. The occasional horse and rider walked about slowly in varied tasks. While in a nearby fenced in ring new riders were learning how to not fall off their horses. Young stable hands bolted back and forth, carting feed, or an empty wheel barrow. A poor soul with shifty eyes was shovelling dung, and Marrick almost thought he saw the visage of Kimp beneath the layers of shyke that covered his face. The ankle shackles the man wore seemed to confirm the squire’s suspicions. Though, he seemed hard at work and unaware of his presence. Even if Kimp had noticed him, the Kelvic doubted that he would have recognized him in his Human form. It mattered little though as Marrick reined in his curiosity about the place and turned his attentions to finding the proprietor. “Oy Lad!” he shouted to a nearby boy leading a large black horse with a lean frame past. The boy halted as he realized that the Kelvic was talking to him. With a gentle tug he pulled the horse along behind him and bowed his head. “Yessir? What can I do for you folks?” he said with a professional manner in his voice as he nodded to the pair of travellers. Marrick bowed his head back to the boy returning his polite gesture. “Oi’m Squire Marrick Corvis, and thes-“ he paused a moment thinking up an appropriate title for his friend. “is the beautiful and loithe Oriah Azari. We’re troyin teh foind someone Oi can talk the, about boyin a harse.” Marrick said mimicking the boys professional manner. After a few ticks went by, the boy had simply squinted his eyes at him, confused by his accent. “You’re a squire.” He seemed to register after piecing through the bits he understood. “You’d want to talk to Serena or Ulliver Windmount. When I saw them last they were in the main stables looking over the stock.” The boy pointed to the largest barn just adjacent to the other two. The Kelvics eyes followed to where the boy pointed and nodded. “Thank ye son. Oi appreciate the direction.” For a brief moment he popped the top of his hip pouch and withdrew a silver miza. When he shook the boys hand the Kelvic pressed the coin into his smaller palm. “Nothin to it sir!” he said with a shallow bow of his head. “Miss Azari” He said with a nod to Oriah before he went on with his task. Marrick watched the lad thoughtfully with a sidelong regard as young man lead the horse away. “Polite lad.” He said as he turned his attentions back to Oriah. “So what sart o’ harse do yeh think Oi should look fer?” He asked as they walked toward the big stables, a lightness to his step.

[Oriah]

Oriah watched as Marrick smiled in a far off, dream-like way, an unprecedented feeling of contentment and calm filling all the gaps and corners of her heart. When his clear gaze met hers once more, her skin tingled, the pleasant sensation traveling from her arms to the top of her head. Everything seemed to move slower--the squire, her breaths, the clouds above--with flawless grace and infinite possibility. It was wondrous, and it was all she noticed, aside from the unexpected warmth of Marrick's fingers as they intertwined with hers. The sky could turn purple and rain horses in the next instant for all she cared. She had only eyes and ears for the stalwart, beaming soul beside her.

The Benshira wrinkled her noise a little at his proposal, though the gesture was one of determination rather than distress. "Challenge accepted," she replied nonchalantly, swinging their hands a little as she walked.

Soon they were approaching the bustling energy--and smells--of the stables. Oriah found herself not minding as much, having devoted most of her thoughts to finding a good horse. The Benshira didn't exactly have much experience under her belt, but she spent all of her youth tending animals. At the very least, she might be able to tell if a horse was moderately healthy, strong, and spirited. Hmm, maybe not too spirited. A concussed or maimed squire was only a little better than a dead one.

The dancer jumped when Marrick flagged down a stable hand, his voice booming after their stretch of silence. She watched their exchange in amusement, as well as a measure of admiration. The squire was earnest and steadfast in all that he did, and speaking to the formal toned stablehand was no exception. Plus, after so many seasons of traveling more or less on her own, she found enjoyment in watching someone else's abilities unfold. The confidence and frankness with which he approached his tasks appealed to the desert bred Benshira, who lived and breathed competence.

Oriah's cheeks, however, heated at her given title. She'd never been introduced that way before, and the fact that it was coming from Marrick made it feel as though a pair of squirrels had snuck inside her body and were nibbling at her innards.

She managed a polite nod in return to the stable boy upon his departure. At Marrick's question and light hearted steps, the dancer regained some of her earlier optimism. "A good one," she answered simply, a wry smile across her lips. "And I guess we'll know it when we see it."

They passed by many horses of varying colors, ages, and size, but none seemed to suit the squire himself. In the midst of their search, one of beasts caught Oriah's eye. It was a beautiful, magnificent creature with pale blonde markings and a delicate, fawn colored coat. For a moment, the Benshira became her seven year old self, oohing and ahhing over the horse's enchanting beauty. She approached it as though in a trance, fears forgotten in the company of Marrick and before the horse's bewitching visage. The mare's coat looked so soft, so silky. She just wanted to reach out and touch it...

A frightened whinny exploded against her ears as the creature reared in its stall. Heart hammering in her throat and limbs stiff with fear, Oriah stumbled backwards.

Straight into another horse.

The girl cringed, fully expecting to be knocked senseless to the ground, just as she had been when she was a child. But...nothing happened. Turning, Oriah found herself face to face with dark, amused eyes of a rather large horse with bushy hooves and a calm, confident air.

"That one there is a Tiaden Warhorse," a stablehand nearby explained, having rushed over at the commotion. "She's not as gorgeous as her royal highness-- the one you just spooked--but she's a tough cookie and won't balk in a fight."

Oriah listened, noting that the warhorse was standing outside of her stall, munching on corn and oats. She gave the human girl a curious look, then went back to feeding. On a complete whim, Oriah brought forth her hand and touched the beast's heavily muscled neck. The horse snuffed on into her bucket of food, not seeming to mind. For some, inexplicable reason, Oriah felt that this enormous horse was as cunning as she looked strong. That she had stared directly at the girl, gauged her threat level, and deemed her unworthy of interrupting this fine meal was proof enough.

Until, that is, Oriah began to tentatively stroke her neck, driven by curiosity for the horse's unexpected behavior. The creature's eating slowed. She seemed to be watching the strange human. As an experiment, Oriah placed the side of her face against warm, solid mass. The horse nuzzled at her uncombed hair like a mother fussing over an infant, then went back to emptying the bucket of corn and oats.

"I think she likes you," the stablehand grinned. "That's a surprise--she's usually very picky with her humans." He tried to approach, but the warhorse snapped up from her oats and huffed through her large nostrils at him, eyes dancing with a hint of fiery emotion Oriah could only assume to be protectiveness. The boy laughed and backed away with his palms in the air. "See what I mean?"

Oriah beamed at Marrick from the horse's once again complacent side. "I like her!"

[Marrick Corvis]

The Kelvic smiled at Oriah’s rhetoric as they walked into the stables to find a horse. He treasured the kindhearted Benshira’s optimism, for it always left him with a warmth in his heart. There were many fine horses that lay waiting in their stalls, on display like giant baubles in a store window. The former slave recalled a barn he was once sold from, where he had been displayed in such a way and it raked his heart to see it. He was glad to have Oriah with him. It made the whole situation more bearable for some reason. As stable hands darted back and forth on their varied tasks of feeding and cleaning, he followed Oriah past many horses. Then like a bee to the flower, a rather beautiful looking beast ensnared Oriah’s attention. The Kelvic had no eye for horse flesh, but the beast seemed deceptively pretty to him. However, if his time in the City of Lies had taught him anything, it was to be suspicious of beauty. In truth the Kelvic still had a hard time believing that a sweet and lovely woman such as Oriah had befriended him. Strangely it was that very moment of reflection that he realized that this day was just as much about getting a horse as it was to make sure that the good lady that had given him a bed last night was more than just a dream. With a loud whinnying, the Kelvic’s meandered ponderings were cut short and Marrick watched in Horror as a great steed reared up on its hind legs as Oriah reached out to touch it. Without thinking, he rushed in and put himself between the massive horse and his dear friend. As she stumbled back, the Squire tried to make himself seem as large as possible to the colossal animal. Perhaps it was his size, or perhaps the horse saw him for what he was. Regardless, the animal calmed and stamped its fore hooves aggressively at him from the safety of its stall. The way the animal carried itself seemed strangely prideful, or smug. Pretty as it was, this horse would not be a good match for him. Keeping one eye on the monstrous animal, he turned to see what had become of his friend. The site that met his gaze was surprise in all shades of amazing he could imagine. Oriah, who had been so afraid, who hated horses, was standing at the foreleg of a beast easily four times her size. Gratefully a stable hand had come to tend to the wild beast in the stall, giving Marrick a moment to better take in the sight before him. He barely registered what the hand had said about the horse. Something about it being a Tieden Warhorse, he thought he had heard. However, The Kelvic was far more interested in inquisitively watching as Oriah and the new horse communicated silently. The Stable hand said that she wasn’t as gorgeous as the other horse, and the Kelvic would have frowned at him, had he not been so engrossed in the scene unfolding before him. Oriah had actually begun to stroke the great beast’s neck, and even miraculously rested her face against her gerth. This horse wasn’t gorgeous. This Mare was a miraculous marvel drawn from golden strands of the Ukalas and made flesh. “Bless me.” Marrick whispered almost breathlessly. Silently he watched the pair with a smile on his lips and a glint of astonishment in his eye, as the stable hand told Oriah how she had made a friend. The Kelvic was hardly surprised. Anyone with half a mind would love the Benshira. Though, the squire suspected that the horse knew more than your average beast. Cautiously he walked around the horse as the stable hand tried to demonstrate the horses taste in people. The Kelvic was concerned to say the least at the horse’s reaction, though oddly enough he found himself eyeing the stable hand and wondering what he had done to turn the beast against him. However, that mystery was not his place to solve at the moment. With a turn of his head he took in the massive steed that had taken such a liking to Oriah. She was far more beautiful than the stable hand had given her credit for. A great dark bay brown mare, built like a bulwark and possessed with an intelligent glint to her eye. Massive tree trunks for legs and a musculature that the Kelvic wanted to sink his teeth into. Oriah’s beaming smile, brighter than Syna greeted his astonished curiosity. Then, Relief felt as if it was gushing into him like water from a wellspring as Oriah told him that she liked her. “Oi thenk the feelin is mutual.” He said with a chuckle and a smile. “Though, Oi’m naught surproised. Any beast with half a moind ‘d love yeh.” His smile grew to a beaming grin as he turned his attentions to the horse. He pondered on her a moment and unslung his pack, laying it gently on the ground. After he had knelt down, he furtively dug through its contents for the sack of feed he had purchased for the occasion and dug out a small handful of oats. As he stood he tried to think of what might peak his own curiosity as a Raven, and food was always a good motivator. Come to think of it food was always a good motivator. The other thing that got him curious was new sounds, or new people. With an assessing eye he smelled the grain in his hand and watched as the horses ears flipped between him and Oriah. Then like a lunch bell tolling, the Kelvic made a kissing noise with his lips in an attempt to entice the horse to him. The mare had of course eaten, but whether it was curiosity or hunger for a treat that spurred her into action, the beautiful beast nickered softly and slowly walked toward him. Each hoof fall felt like a felled tree hitting the ground as she approached. Slightly unnerving as it was, the Kelvic tensely stood his ground. Careful as painters brush, he extended his hand to the horse, palm open and flat. A few grains fell to the ground with the bulk of it rested in his hand. With a cautious sniff, the Tieden Mare gently lipped the grain out of his palm. Once his hand was slick with horse lather, the mare nickered softly and crowded him hoping for more. “Roight you.” He said with a chuckle, as the horse pressed its massive bulk against him. Firmly he leaned against the beast’s right foreleg and soothingly stroked her neck and shoulder. The horse seemed docile as a lamb, and seemed to enjoy the lavish attention that Marrick and Oriah visited upon her. When Marrick was ready to stop the beautiful bulwark actually nudged him affectionately in an effort to keep him rubbing. “Well trained, and brighter than a freshly minted miza.” He said with a chuckle. The Kelvic was beside himself with wonder. Sharing a luminous grin, he turned his attentions to his dear friend. “Oi think thes is the one, Oriah.” “Oy lad, what’s your name.” He said to the stable hand still watching the pair as they soothed the great horse, who’s eyes now blinked lazily in ecstasy. “Pieter Ser! I’m one of Ser Ulliver Windmount’s Pages Ser.” The stable hand said with a proud lilt to his tone. “Aye lad, and a knoight in tha makin teh be certain.” He said with a kindly smile. “Would it be much trouble teh ask yeh teh foind us a person, teh sell us thes foine steed?” The words stuck in his mouth like he’d just vomited pure ichor. Selling an animal like this to someone was a crime in his mind, yet he kept is scruples to himself. The page nodded, and set out in search of his master as Marrick quietly shut his eyes and buried his head in the beast’s mane. For a precious few ticks he retreated into his own head a moment and thought over the idea of buying such an amazing creature. In his head he struggled against the idea of holding an animal in bondage. The Kelvic lovingly stroked her strong neck and looked into her big brown eyes. “Yer more than Mizas aren’t yah.” On a whim he breathed deeply of her coat, taking in her scent. She smelled marvelously of sweat, hay, saw dust, and manure. No surprise after all, she did live in a barn. “She’s marvelous, Oriah. I hope Oi can buy the privilege of ridin her.” The words had come out of his mouth before he’d even realized their meaning. Truly it would be a privilege to ride this animal. Through farm, or field, across moor and mountain they would go. The little Kelvic felt certain. This horse would be his companion until one of them passed into the Ukalas to be reborn in the next life. At that moment a strange feeling possessed the Kelvic’s heart and he reached out and took Oriah’s hand again. Then with his other, he gently touched the horse’s neck. Softly, he spoke to the horse a simple vow. “Oi beg yeh the honor of bein moy friend and companion. I will always treat ye koindly, and with respect. When we roide we go together.” After the words had left his mouth he felt a sudden foolishness, marked with a nervous laugh. “Forgive me, Oriah.” He quavered. “Oi’m afraid a romantic spirit took me.” As he still clung to her, he looked at their clasped hands, and absentmindedly whispered. “Oi can’t imagine why.”

[Oriah]

Both equestrian and human females watched in mutual, curious silence as Marrick bent down to withdraw something from his pack. Another bag? Oriah wondered. His arm disappeared into the sack, and when it emerged once more with a handful of familiar shapes the Benshira understood. Oats!

At first, she was afraid the mare would not take to Marrick's offer. But then the squire made a strange sound with his lips and, much to Oriah's surprise, the horse began walking towards him. She laughed softly in wonder as their mutual friend now licked the squire's hand clean, clearly eager for more. With a look of similar wonderment upon his expression, Marrick appeared beside himself with elation and certainty as he rubbed the horse's neck and shoulder.

"I think so too," Oriah nodded, joining him to stroke the mare's sides in gentle affection. As the squire busied himself with asking the stablehand boy to fetch someone with authority, the Benshira held her hand still for a moment to feel the resonant beating of the mare's heart. It was deep and steady, just like her soon to be rider. A match made by the gods, she thought to herself.

Soon, Marrick returned his attentions to the beautiful warhorse, speaking fond words and breathing in her earthen coat. At his mention of the privilege of riding such a worthy companion, Oriah looked up at him with a hint of curiosity. He seemed so respectful of life, in all of its forms. The squire was never crude, never petty, and never cruel or inconsiderate. Perhaps it had something to do with his past. Perhaps it was simply his nature. Either way, she found it vastly comforting to know the lovely horse would be under the care of such a tender soul. Though, it did bring about a tiny pang of envy, knowing this stalwart creature would be by the squire's side no matter where he went. Aiding him, protecting him, enjoying his warmth and company, whilst Oriah milled about the city, barely able to do so much as lift a sword.

Something about this stirred a strange compulsion within the Benshira. An idea, more like, that had planted itself the night before, when the knight had offered his strange compliment before his hasty departure...

Oriah glanced up, somewhat startled. Marrick's solid hand had found hers again, the sensation inciting another lurch of her heart, as he placed his other hand upon the horse and uttered a simple yet heartfelt vow. Her feelings were once again bittersweet in response; his words were heartfelt and honorable, yet she held an inexplicable desire for them to be directed at her instead. Blessed Yahal, when had she regressed to her impudent, ten year old self?

The squire let loose a nervous laughter and apologized for being overtaken by a romantic spirit. And when he murmured, almost to himself, that he couldn't imagine why, she almost blurted--

"Oy, there!" a friendly voiced bellowed. "So, Pieter tells me someone wants to buy this beauty of a Tiaden. I'm Ulliver Windmount, cousin to Serena. Which one of you is the fellow interested?"

He basked in the silence for a moment, then grinned toothily. "Just kidding! Well met sir, well met," Ulliver laughed as he clapped Marrick heartily on the shoulders. Then he turned and gave a small bow in Oriah's direction. "And morning to you, my lady."

She smiled back, finding the knight's lighthearted introduction reassuring. "Good morning, Ser Ulliver," the Benshira responded in kind.

"Now," the knight huffed, clapping his hands together, "you sure this is the horse you want?"

[Marrick Corvis]

Marrick regretted his need to pull away from the security and peace he had found there with the horse, and his friend. If his arms had been wide enough he would have encircled the mare and Oriah in them. Yet there was business that needed tending to. A knight had come to help Marrick with the purchase of the privilege of riding the horse and the Kelvic didn’t want to miss his chance. Ulliver was a mirthful man, not unlike Kevith, yet this fellow wore the silver sword on his coat. He was still a knight, and would take up shield and blade in defense of Syliras and its interests. The man teased playfully, playing at the salesman and introduced himself. At the mention of his name and relation, Marrick bowed his head in greeting. “A true pleasure teh meet a cousin of Master Dyres, Ser.” He said with a measure of reverence in his tone. “Oi’m Squoire Marrick Corvis,” he said saluting the knight. “n’ thes is moy dear friend, Oriah Azari.” With a gentle stroking of the horses neck, the beast nudged at Marricks shoulder and nickered softly trying to regain his attentions. The squire chuckled in kind and nodded to the good knight. “Indeed Ser Windmount. She’s a koind and clever spirit. And well trained.” He cast a beaming grin upon the horse, as he watched the mares ears flip between the many distracting influences in the stables. Ser Ulliver Windmount looked at the horse and squire a moment before he chuckled at the relationship already blossoming before him. “She’s a second generation Windoak Tieden. Her father was one of three Tieden that appeared before the Djed storm.” He said passionate with knowledge. Marrick now looked at the horse with additional veneration. The appearance of a Tieden was a blessing not to be overlooked, and a foal born of a summoned Tiedan was a blessing in and of itself. “Does she have a name Ser Windmount?” He asked inquisitively, a genuine curiosity coloring the features of his face. Ulliver smiled genuinely, and nodded. “She is Kiter, daughter of Strom. We named her after the shields we carry. I don’t know if you noticed the shield on her brow, but it stands out when her forelocks aren’t in the way. And boy when she was a foal did she love to use it.” The knight chuckled, lost in the memory. “Koiter.” The squire repeated with his odd accent. The horse realizing that he had said her name shifted her ears to point at him inquisitively. The Kelvic smiled at the mare, and gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder of her foreleg. “Oi’d loike to boy the privilege o’ roidin her in my duties Ser.” He said turning his attentions back to the knight. “n’ Oi need a bit o’ trainin if ye have the toime?” For a moment Ulliver nodded thoughtfully as he looked Marrick over like so much horse flesh. “Have you ever riden before squire?” He asked with a stroke of the scruff on his chin. “Nae Ser.” The Kelvic said with a shake of his head. “Oi’ve watched the tendin o’ harses. But naught a bit else.” Ulliver nodded thoughtfully, still assessing the Squires physical condition. “Well, the horse seems to like you well enough. If you are intending to buy the,-“ for the briefest of moments he searched the air over his head for the words the squire had used. “- the privilage of riding her. We will need to get you the other tack and gear you’ll need.” For a moment he searched the racks on the wall for a bit and bridle. Finding one that was fitted to the mare’s dimensions he plucked it from the wall and came near. Kiter shifted her hooves anxiously, knowing that soon she would be lead out of her stall. As he drew close he halted before putting on the bridle getting his audience’s attention. “Right, your training begins now squire, you’re welcome to watch as well M’lady.” He said as he sidled up next to the mare’s neck. “Make sure she’s comfortable with you being so close. And remove the halter.” The knight demonstrated slowly and confidently. “She’ll put her ears back typically if she’s in a bad mood. In which case, you need to give her space, or find out what’s bothering her.” The knight said as he rubbed the bridge of the horse’s nose reassuringly. Kiter, trusting as lover let the man remove her halter and actually pressed the bridge of her long face against his hand as he brought it up and around her head. “And bring your hand around her head to make sure she knows she isn’t supposed to go anywhere. Your hand is her temporary halter, for a trained horse it has a calming, familiar feeling. Keep that in mind squire. It’s very important.” He said as he gently rubbed the mare’s forehead. Marrick watched as the knight showed them both how it was done. It was the slightest bit frustrating for the former slave as it seemed a lot of the horse’s way was tethers, and rope or ties and muzzles. It made him uncomfortable enough that he found Oriah’s hand again and gave it a gentle squeeze to bolster his courage and hold his tongue. “Now Kiter here is as docile as a lamb with the folks she trusts, but you need to be sure she knows who’s boss or she’s liable to start taking liberties with you.” He explained with a smile. “Now when you bring the Bridle up to place over her head, hold it with your first two fingers.” The mare looked happier than a cat in a box at the gentle hands of the Knight as she let him exhibit the proper way to place a bridle. “Then gently, with your free hand lift the bit up in between her lips, while sliding the bridle up the bridge of her nose.” Ulliver said softly, as the leather straps of the bridle slid gentle up and over the back of the horses head. “Be careful of your fingers at this point. I’ve known a few squires to lose the tip of a finger because they stuck their fingers into the front of a horse’s mouth.” He said as he gripped the metal bit in his fingers. “Gently encourage the metal bit into the mares mouth, while drawing the bridle the rest of the way over her head. If the mare gives you any trouble with that, you can stick your fingers,-“ he showed them the gap in between Kiters teeth by gently pressing the point on her jaw that was toothless. “by pressing here, where there are no teeth.” He said with knowledgably. “At this point, you pull the bridle over one ear at a time, and remove any hair out from underneath the straps. An uncomfortable horse doesn’t like to be lead anywhere.” Ulliver said as he fitted the straps comfortably over the back of Kiter’s head and ears. “At this point, you can tighten it up if it’s necessary. Though typically you will only need to do this once.” Yet, the knight’s advice rang true in the Kelvic’s ears, the bridle fit Kiter’s facial dimensions perfectly. However, Kiter did chew at the bit, in a manner that seemed uncomfortable to the Kelvic. Old memories of a gag entered into his head as he squeezed Oriah’s hand compulsively. “Is ‘t a discomfert fer her? Teh have the metal bit in there?” the Kelvic inquired as he watched Kiter submissively grind her teeth. “Eh? No more than when you chew on a bit of wood, or a twig. However, if your horse tosses her head excessively or shakes at the bridle, or even outright refuses to wear it. Check to make sure it’s not causing her any pain, or extreme discomfort.” Ulliver spoke knowledgably. “The bridle may be too tight, or she may have an infection in her mouth, or a wound.” He nodded to Kiter with a gentle loving smile, and with a tender hand stroked the bridge of her nose. “Horses are smart, remember that Squire Corvis. They have feelings and emotions and they will express them.” Marrick nodded as he ground his teeth. Of course they have emotions. All animals have emotions. Then unexpectedly, Ulliver presented Marrick with the reins. Like a child, unsure of their first step, he let go of Oriah’s comforting hand. Then, warily reached out and grasped the two long straps of leather. He felt just the tiniest bit sickness holding the horse there, almost as if he had crossed over and become the thing he hated worse than a bully. A dominator. A slaver. Though, whether it was the horse’s instincts or the Kelvic’s own emotions projecting, the Mare gave him a gentle nudge. Almost as if she was telling him it was ok. That she wanted more than anything to be ridden; to run freely through the fields and feel the wind on her face. That it was his job to take her there. A slight look of concern danced fleetingly across his face as he pondered the depths of that relationship and what it took to make the horse that way. Then with a humbled smile the Kelvic reminded himself that his own mind was a prison in itself, and that to leave it behind was occasionally a good thing. Taking a deep breath, he gripped the leather straps in his hand firmly. He needed to learn how to ride. “Alroight, let’s get started.” He said, his eyes shining with a fiery determination. “Can Oriah watch?” He asked the Knight, as he cast Oriah a nervous smile. The typical worries rolled over in his mind. What if he fell, what if he got hurt? What if, what if, what if. The potential harm loomed in his mind, for but a moment. His heart answered back confidently. Oriah would help you, Oriah would hold you, Oriah would Mend you, Oriah would take care of your hurt. And the prospect of that moment, almost made the squire want to get injured. “Care teh watch me make a fool o’ mehself, Oriah?" He said with a mischievous grin.

[/quote]

[Oriah]

Kiter, the shield that would protect the faithful squire.

Oriah found it fitting and placed a hand against the Tiedan's shoulders, moving across her warm, solid coat in slow strokes. Born as a blessing after the Djed storm...such a tumultuous event, the memories of which she still skirted on days she wished not to darken with ghosts of the past. There was nothing to be gained from dredging up this bit of history, the Benshira reasoned, other than to reinvigorate an already healthy enough caution for all magic.

Her ears pricked at a single word as the exchange between Marrick and Ser Ulliver continued. Training? Oriah's shoulders tensed. She had to remind herself over and over that he was well enough, having been mostly healed by a god marked healer on their way to the stables. It was rather miraculous, watching the rapid recovery under experienced, god-touched care. Even so, the dancer caught herself worrying. What if an injury had been overlooked? What if more were created? And with him never having ridden a horse...

Before she could protest, however, Ser Ulliver began the lesson, plucking equipment right off the walls and diving into explanations of how to handle Kiter with neither pomp nor ceremony. Oriah honed in on anything regarding the horse's displeasure; if anything threatening were to happen, she wanted to be able to spot it a league away.

At some point, Marrick's hand found hers again and she looked up at him, unable to contain her worry. There were so many things to remember, and so many different bits and pieces that needed to be placed on Kiter. In the deserts, equipment was kept at a minimum--a logical tradition in such harsh environments and nomadic lifestyles. Too much weight would burden a horse, and since the beasts were meant for speed and not as pack animals, many riders rode with only simple reins and light padding. But here, in the Shining City, things were almost entirely the opposite. It seemed most of the gear was meant for greater control, which made sense in the context of a battle, but to a former Ravokian slave...

She squeezed his hand back, lending as much comfort and courage as she could muster in the face of such a daunting endeavor. Thank Yahal they had found Kiter. Any other horse and Oriah would be fraught with distress, ready to drag the squire out of the stables at the first sign of danger. Not that she wasn't already leaning toward this state of mind, but it gave her some measure of assurance that the warhorse was as even tempered and dependable as she appeared.

Before she knew it, Marrick had let go of her hand and was gripping the leather reins, a look of fierce determination in his eyes. The squire seemed to flounder for a moment in uncertainty, a nervous timber in his voice when he asked if the Benshira could watch his training. It didn't take long, though, for his familiar confidence to return, and he extended the invitation with a devious grin.

Oriah folded her arms and huffed. "You're crazy enough of one for wanting to ride in the first place," she taunted back. Then her tone softened as she added, "But I will watch, if only to make sure you don't ride off in a burst of daftness to take on more violent, vengeful criminals."

Ser Ulliver roared with laughter, slapping Marrick on the back. "I heard of that incident, squire. A fine example of justice well served--twice--but I must agree with the lady. We'll take it easy for now, no need to rush your first steps."

He made a fond sound at Kiter and patted her on the neck. "Ready for a ride, then?"

[Marrick Corvis]

The hand that held his felt warm and comforting as it had since the first time he had grasped its tender fingers. Her gentle squeeze of his strong hand gave him the courage he needed to try this dangerous feat, and filled him with hope of its meaning. At the Benshira’s feisty taunting the Kelvic felt a now familiar urge to impress her. Yet, as he looked at the horse he reconsidered. This horse deserved a sane rider. At least until she’d grown to trust him. His little mischievous smile grew into a confident grin at her agreement to watch. She was so protective of him. The Squire wondered how that had happened, he was the one in the Order after all. It was his duty to protect her. At her teasing jest the Knight practically thundered with laughter and slapped him on the back hard as any club. Making the squire exhale any air he might have held tenuously in his chest. “Oof!” he said, as he became swept up in the Knight’s enthusiasm. In spite of his inexperience and nervousness he chuckled warmly. “Oi couldn’a done it without Oriah.” He said, humility in his heart and a rose to his cheeks. The Knight’s eyes held a strange glint to them for a moment as he heard the squire’s words. “Hold on to that humility Squire Corvis. It’s a rare quality for some in the order.” He said, a little smile still clinging to the corners of his mouth. Marrick took a deep breath and nodded to the Knight in assurance. “Oi’ll do moy best Ser.” Ulliver gave the squire the slightest of nods as he turned to pull a saddle pad off of a rack. “Next you need to lay the blanket over the horse’s neck and drag it down to the withers. This will make sure the saddle rests against the horse’s back comfortably.” The Knight gently lay the saddle pad on the horses back and drew it down as he had just said. “Then you saddle her up.” The Squire watched as the Knight tacked Kiter. He always stayed in front of her letting her see where he was and what he was doing. He realized then that he had done that the entire time. “So yeh stay where she can see yeh?” He said curiosity flavouring his tongue. “Aye Marrick. Make sure she can see you. Horses are a wary beast, and are more like to run from something they are afraid of.” As he finished cinching down the saddle he gave the horse a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “And what’s more frightening than something you can’t see or don’t understand.” The Kelvic nodded thoughtfully considering the Knight’s wise words. Though, his contemplations were cut short as the Knight stepped aside with a look of anticipation. Marrick took in Kiter as she stood their tacked and ready to ride. He stroked her neck once more to reassure the great beast that his intentions were good. Then with a sigh and a look of resolve to Oriah, the Kelvic grasped the saddle horn and stepped into the stirrup. With a huff of exertion he lifted himself into the saddle with the soft creak of leather against leather. For a moment, Marrick felt taller than the world, and the little smile that grew on his face spoke to his experience. “Oi feel tall enough teh take on a slew o’ bandits.” The Kelvic’s uttered in wonderment. Which was the wrong thing to say as he caught the ‘not if I kill you first’ raised eyebrow of his friend. The sheepish smile that he gave her in return could have disarmed an angry mother, though he felt an assurance was needed. “In the safest way possible of course.” Ulliver’s mirth was unstoppable as he roared with laughter. “She’s got you trained almost as well as this horse Squire!” He said as he held his belly. When at last, his laughter died to a chuckle he wiped a single tear from the corner of his eye and stood straight once more. “Alright, moving around is simple enough. Simply urge her to go forward with a simple command. Don’t be too loud with it or she might bolt from the stables here.” “n’ what’s that Ser Windmount?” Marrick said with a concerned look on his face. “Let’s go.” Ulliver Windmount said with a smile. “Lets go?” Marrick said questioningly. Though as the words left his mouth the horse took her cue and started forward at a walk. The way the beast moved made Marrick a little uncomfortable, though the feeling of having something carrying him made him feel powerful. As the full gravity began to hit home he was beginning to feel a panic strike at his heart. Like a cat that’d latched onto the back of a pig, he looked over his shoulder his eyes filled with concern that he had bitten off more than he could chew. “Easy now squire it’s all right. She won’t dart off on you unless you give her a gentle heeling to the ribs. She’s sensitive to you in the saddle. It’s why she obeyed your command and not mine. She knows better than to ride off at the command of a footman.” Ulliver said as he walked beside him, his hand on the horse’s side. The Kelvic turned to his other side to see Oriah watching him carefully. The smile he gave her was a nervous one, but her presence made him feel stronger. He caught himself fixated on her a moment and sighed softly knowing she was close. With an excitement filling his heart he turned his attentions to where he was going. “Where are we headed Ser?” “We’ll walk her to the riding ring squire. We need to teach you how to steer her, verbal cues, and what not to do.” Ulliver said with a grin letting the horses flank slip from his fingers as he let rider and horse pass him. Careful to avoid the dangerous area behind Kiter, he switched the side he walked on to join Oriah. “I love this part, I have to admit that I love to see a first timer taking their first steps to becoming a horsemen.” The Knight said vicariously to the Benshira, as they approached an empty riders circle. He picked up his pace to get ahead of their little menagerie to open the gate. Kiter seemed to know right where she was going. She knew what the riders circle was and likely had been used before to train multiple riders in her time. The Great dark chocolate Tieden walked confidently into the centre of the ring and halted without command. Marrick gave the great horse a reassuring pat to the shoulder, to let her know he was grateful for the ride and watched Ulliver for his commands. As he watched Oriah join him, he found himself standing a little straighter. What did this beautiful and kind hearted woman want with him? He wasn’t anything special, a former slave from Ravok, with a silly dream of becoming a knight. Where did that fit into the life of a wandering dancer? Ahh but he loved to see the smile light up her face. If the woman only appeared at night, the Kelvic very well might have suspected her of being Syna in human form. “Squire!” Ulliver said loudly to him. “You steer by guiding Kiter’s head using the reins. Some of the best horsemen can even guide using their legs or hands on a bareback horse. In this instance you will be using the bridle.” Ser Windmount said to the rather awkward looking squire as he sat upon the mighty Horse. “Guide left to go left, and right to go right. Pull back and say ‘hold’ for her to stop. The ring is yours squire.” The Knight said as he slid the gate closed. Marrick took another sidelong look to Oriah and fed off the strength she gave him. It made him feel safer than a babe in swaddling. Then with a short sigh he focussed on Kiter. The Kelvic gave her a gentle stroke of the neck as he said. “Let’s go Koiter.” The horse hearing her cue made her move forward into a walk. The Kelvic felt the horse’s great weight moving beneath him. Each muscle in her mighty body pulled her bulk forward effortlessly. He had to admit a measure of fear, inspiration, and wonder filled his heart. Gently he pulled at her reins to the right, and she obediently turned toward the fence line. For a moment he felt uncertain if indeed he had just managed to guide Kiter, so he gently pulled her in the other direction. The great beast blinked patiently and did as she was guided, much to Marricks delight, and displeasure. Inside his mind he was mulling over the details of it. This great beast was obviously a brilliant creature and here she was being led about by the likes of him. She was so patient, and so obedient. The Kelvic almost hated himself for taking advantage of her. He felt the pain acutely as he heaved a great sigh in time with the great beast. “If you feel comfortable Marrick, pick up the pace a bit. Squeeze her sides with your calves.” Ulliver Windmount said with a nod to the squire as he watched Marrick jostle gently in the saddle. With a nod of understanding he squeezed the Tiadens sides gently as Ser Windmount instructed. Kiter began to pick up her pace slowly until she began to trot. As the beasts massive girth began to move he felt his whole body bouncing up and down against the saddle. “Try to control your movement Squire. When you hit her like that it’s going to confuse her, or at worse, hurt her. Balance in the saddle, and use your legs against the stirrup. ” Ulliver shouted from the fence line. The Kelvic tried to balance his weight, which inevitably led him to put his weight in the stirrups. He felt as awkward as a Lion in the sea as he tried to move with Kiters great bulk. There was a strange comfort to the movement. “Well done squire, but don’t fight her. Feel her movement. Rider and horse should be one on the battle field. Let her movement guide you!” he shouted at the squire as he rode about awkwardly. “When your ready to stop, pull back on her reins and tell her, woah.” As Marrick began to try to move with Kiter as she trotted he found that he felt cues from her just as much as the horse got cues from him. An interesting duality, he would have to master if he were to become more than a footman. As he rounded the fence line he gently slow Kiters gait with a tug on the reins and well timed “Woah Koiter.” until the pair of them rested where Oriah stood with Ulliver at the fence line. “Oi’m feelin a moight cramped to get out n’ roide a bit farther, away from the ridin ring.” The squire said as he adjusted his position in the saddle. “Would that be alroight yeh thenk?”

[Oriah]

Oriah took note of the various points in their impromptu lesson. There wasn't much hope of her remembering all the details of how to place each individual piece of gear on the horse, but there were at least a few words of wisdom she could collect for later use. Staying within Kiter's vision was one, and the Benshira found much sense in this. Back in the days when she had a dozen or so wool-headed charges under her care, she had learned the hard way what not to do around the wary creatures. They had their own sense of personal space--cross it without warning, and she might very well end up running around for a good portion of her day.

There was a pattern to this, and the dancer listened as best she could. Be calm, be slow, be seen. That, at least, she was able to grasp.

Oriah almost--almost--lost control of her neutrality when the squire claimed he felt tall enough to do the very thing she had warned against. But then he amended his statement, with a smile that could melt the most frigid of hearts, and all was well again. For the time being.

At Ser Ulliver's mirthful comment, she tensed a little. Trained...it reminded her all too much of Marrick's past. Would he be offended? Would such a remark provoke memories best left untouched? A quick glance in the good natured squire's direction, however, quelled the worst of her fears. He seemed not to have minded. Though, in the next handful of ticks, a new set of worries came to plague the Benshira.

He looked nervous. Concerned, even. What was wrong? Was he sensing something? Oriah's hands curled into fists as she prepared for the worst, but as always Ser Ulliver was there to lend guidance and assurance. Both beginners seemed to relax a little at his words, and when Marrick turned to give the dancer a nervous smile, she stared back with fierce encouragement. You can do it! Be calm, don't fall...her gaze seemed to urge, though she attempted to leave the last bit out. It wouldn't do to mar the already tenuous situation with ill luck.

A fleeting sensation of surprise struck her as the knight appeared at her side and confessed this to being his favorite part of a lesson. Instead of protesting, Oriah held her tongue for a moment and let his enthusiasm infect her a little. It was rather exciting, she admitted to herself, and it would only happen once. After this, Marrick would be well on his way to honing his abilities. It still made her uneasy to think of him charging into enemy lines, even with Kiter's impressive bulk to aid his recklessly noble endeavors, but she could not deny there was a certain appeal to it. The girl wondered, in that moment, what it felt like to be sitting up there as Marrick did. Was it grand? Did he feel safe, now that he'd grown more accustomed to the feel of being so high off the ground?

As if able to sense she was thinking of him, the squire turned to look her way once more. And, each time that he did, her heart did a clumsy, haphazard sort of flip. It was baffling, and it was also kind of...addicting. Oriah made a mental note to go seek the nearest wise woman--or whatever Syliran equivalent existed--first chance she got to ensure something in that dingy alleyway hadn't tampered with her senses.

The knight's booming voice cut off her train of thought as he called to Marrick and continued with more instructions. Oriah tried not to bring attention to herself as rosy spots appeared on her cheeks and focused on the ongoing lesson. The squire looked more than a little awkward at first, jouncing and bouncing, much to her amusement. But sooner than she believed possible, he began to grasp the rhythm of Kiter's movements. He'd even managed to bring her to a halt on his first try, which the dancer smiled at in pleasant surprise. It was impressive, that he was learning so quick. Perhaps there was some hope for her as well...

Oriah's smile faltered a little, however, when Marrick asked if he could ride beyond the ring. Her bright eyes darted to Ser Ulliver. Say no, say no, don't you dare say--

"Sure," the knight shrugged. Oriah's face fell. "That is, if you really feel you're up for it, and promise to come back at some point. I don't think Lady Azari here would much appreciate if you rode off into the sunset, never to return."

The Benshira slid her gaze to the grass by her feet, struck with sudden embarrassment. "Just be careful, squire," she mumbled. "I don't think the healer can fix you twice in a day."

Ser Ulliver quirked an eyebrow at Marrick, then gave a toothy grin. "Welp, whenever you're ready, good squire!"