She looks away first, and he looks away as well, out of respect for her need for... what, privacy? He isn't sure. He pats his mount and puts his legs gently to her, making her prance in place and at a slight diagonal, her steady footing making it an easy little show of her skill. After, she drops her head down to take a bite of grass, lest their company think that Sylvain has her perfectly under hand.
"Naughty," he scolds her, but does nothing about the snacking. Shaking his head, he smooths his own ruffled hair away from his face and gazes out at the land before them.
"I didn't really have a plan," he admits. "I don't know the lay of the land, I just wanted time in the saddle, away from the court." He turns to her, slightly bashful, as if she would judge him for that, after their moment the night before. "I only thought to find a path and let it lead us somewhere."
He looks for such a thing, and he sees one; not a footpath by any means, but clearly horse-trodden. He clicks his tongue and Híril makes for it at a marching walk.
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sforzinda
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Date: 2023-04-04 10:21 am (UTC)She looks away first, and he looks away as well, out of respect for her need for... what, privacy? He isn't sure. He pats his mount and puts his legs gently to her, making her prance in place and at a slight diagonal, her steady footing making it an easy little show of her skill. After, she drops her head down to take a bite of grass, lest their company think that Sylvain has her perfectly under hand.
"Naughty," he scolds her, but does nothing about the snacking. Shaking his head, he smooths his own ruffled hair away from his face and gazes out at the land before them.
"I didn't really have a plan," he admits. "I don't know the lay of the land, I just wanted time in the saddle, away from the court." He turns to her, slightly bashful, as if she would judge him for that, after their moment the night before. "I only thought to find a path and let it lead us somewhere."
He looks for such a thing, and he sees one; not a footpath by any means, but clearly horse-trodden. He clicks his tongue and Híril makes for it at a marching walk.