Even without looking at her directly, he can tell she's smiling. That special smile that a lady reserves only for her beloved animal companion. Ladies and Sylvain, that is. He smiles the same way at his own mare.
He chuckles fondly, rubbing at Windfola's forehead. "Ah, yes, I have something here for you." He gently pushes the nose away, producing a crunchy little oat cookie from his pocket. He shows it to Éowyn. "A recipe invented by a friend of mine," and offers it to the begging horse.
"The only creature I truly need to win over to call this journey a success." He laughs, a bright and boyish thing. His laughter grows all the harder at the sound of a hoof hitting a door and an impudent whinny.
"Híril darling I didn't forget you." He slips out of Windfola's stall to approach his grumpy mare. She's larger than the plains horses, and more covered with fur down her strong legs, a small beard growing under her chin. Her long ears swivel backward. "She's very jealous," he explains, turning to look at Éowyn over his shoulder. An oat cookie for Híril placates her, and she turns to lipping at Sylvain's shoulder. "There's my girl."
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sforzinda
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Date: 2022-03-12 06:34 am (UTC)Even without looking at her directly, he can tell she's smiling. That special smile that a lady reserves only for her beloved animal companion. Ladies and Sylvain, that is. He smiles the same way at his own mare.
He chuckles fondly, rubbing at Windfola's forehead. "Ah, yes, I have something here for you." He gently pushes the nose away, producing a crunchy little oat cookie from his pocket. He shows it to Éowyn. "A recipe invented by a friend of mine," and offers it to the begging horse.
"The only creature I truly need to win over to call this journey a success." He laughs, a bright and boyish thing. His laughter grows all the harder at the sound of a hoof hitting a door and an impudent whinny.
"Híril darling I didn't forget you." He slips out of Windfola's stall to approach his grumpy mare. She's larger than the plains horses, and more covered with fur down her strong legs, a small beard growing under her chin. Her long ears swivel backward. "She's very jealous," he explains, turning to look at Éowyn over his shoulder. An oat cookie for Híril placates her, and she turns to lipping at Sylvain's shoulder. "There's my girl."