Post by devilinthedetails on Feb 5, 2018 9:52:56 GMT 10
Title: Horse Sense
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: Noble Steed
Summary: Peachblossom and Tobe talk about Kel and Neal. Set during the inn scene in Lady Knight.
Horse Sense
The boy clinging like a swarm of flies to Peachblossom’s belly smelled of wilderness, blood-sucking fleas, and the fear-sweat that came from living under the constant threat of a lash, but Peachblossom felt a kinship with him as he had Stefan the hostler in Corus and the one who called herself the Wildmage when she whispered in his ears and mind. He remembered what it meant to have a master who kicked ribs and whipped flesh until it bruised like a grape or scarred like a battle wound, and he could see the boy watching his mistress warily as Peachblossom would a snake that crossed his path as she left the stables where he had found dry straw on his cold, damp march north.
She won’t beat you. Peachblossom nuzzled the boy’s matted hay hair and knew the boy would understand him as he did the boy. She doesn’t want to break you, just make you whole again. She never used a spur or whip on me and never yelled that she’d send me to pasture.
What about that one? The boy was staring at Peachblossom’s favorite person to bite, who was extending a hand Peachblossom was tempted to chew, toward the boy wrapped warm as a flea-infested blanket around Peachblossom’s chest.
He tastes salty and squeals like a pig being slaughtered when you nip him, but he won’t hurt you, and if he does, just take a chunk out of him. Peachblossom whickered into the boy’s cheek.
I can’t bite him but my fleas can. The boy released Peachblossom and took a tentative step out of Peachblossom’s stall, and Peachblossom sensed that his wildness would be tamed long before Peachblossom’s.
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: Noble Steed
Summary: Peachblossom and Tobe talk about Kel and Neal. Set during the inn scene in Lady Knight.
Horse Sense
The boy clinging like a swarm of flies to Peachblossom’s belly smelled of wilderness, blood-sucking fleas, and the fear-sweat that came from living under the constant threat of a lash, but Peachblossom felt a kinship with him as he had Stefan the hostler in Corus and the one who called herself the Wildmage when she whispered in his ears and mind. He remembered what it meant to have a master who kicked ribs and whipped flesh until it bruised like a grape or scarred like a battle wound, and he could see the boy watching his mistress warily as Peachblossom would a snake that crossed his path as she left the stables where he had found dry straw on his cold, damp march north.
She won’t beat you. Peachblossom nuzzled the boy’s matted hay hair and knew the boy would understand him as he did the boy. She doesn’t want to break you, just make you whole again. She never used a spur or whip on me and never yelled that she’d send me to pasture.
What about that one? The boy was staring at Peachblossom’s favorite person to bite, who was extending a hand Peachblossom was tempted to chew, toward the boy wrapped warm as a flea-infested blanket around Peachblossom’s chest.
He tastes salty and squeals like a pig being slaughtered when you nip him, but he won’t hurt you, and if he does, just take a chunk out of him. Peachblossom whickered into the boy’s cheek.
I can’t bite him but my fleas can. The boy released Peachblossom and took a tentative step out of Peachblossom’s stall, and Peachblossom sensed that his wildness would be tamed long before Peachblossom’s.
