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Home. Such a strange concept these days. Vangelis had spent the last four years away from Colchis, talking with men about that mythical... that ethereal "home".
They would talk about the sights, the sounds, the younger ones would mention a lass or a mother - someone who gave them comfort back home. The older ones would talk about the smell of their wife's homecooking.
When asked, Vangelis had had nothing to share of these stories. He would instead, speak of the view from his bedroom window - of the Kirakles islands, the Aegean Sea and the horizon where the two would meet. He would talk about watching the sun come up every morning, having pulled his riding pants on but remaining shirtless as he would lean against his balcony door and just let the first rays of the sun warm his skin. He missed that.
As the ship rode the last of its waves to the inner harbour of Midas, between cragged outcroppings and harsh, rocky shorelines, the wind changed directly and sent a new breeze in Vangelis' direction. The sharp minerals in the air and sweet tang of earth shot up his airways and drilled straight into his brain, into his childhood. He would know that smell anywhere. The scent and fumes of the Kirakles islands and the maze of tunnels that the Colchians had dig into them. The fresh dew of disturbed earth and the smoky texture of solid rock. He could taste it on his tongue - the salty sea air and the solid, full-bodied aroma of ore and clay; all twisted and mixed in the harsh and bitter winter wind.
Home.
As the ship pulled closer to the dock, Vangelis looked out over the short wooden structure. There were multiple short docks around the main isle of Kirakles, all of which led to roads that led to Midas. Like fingers spreading out from the capital and down to the water's edge. The tips of those fingers then reached out into the dark sea, calling to the nearby ships for docking and disturbing the water, breaking waves in the wind. This dock in particular seemed to be comprised mostly of sailors and fishermen, lugging in a new haul. A few looked up at the ship as it came into port and one paused. He nudged his friend and pointed up towards Vangelis who waved a hand in greeting.
Suddenly, shouts could be heard around the dock, people yelled and waved. The sailors who remembered him, who recognised him, were happy to have their crown prince home. "It's Prince Vangelis!" he heard one call. "The prince is back!" yelled a second. Giving a small smile and a nod of recognition, Vangelis raised his hand in hello to a few others, as the sailors of his ship fastened the belly to the port side.
Unwilling to wait for the wooden walkway to be put in place, Vangelis hopping down and over the ships side, eager to feel the Colchian soil beneath his boots.
He landed with a thump that sent people sprawling to get out of his way but then, as the tide turned, was accosted by his people. He had not informed anyone that he was returning home on the day he was. He hadn't made preparations or plans for anyone to meet him at the docks. His family weren't even expecting him for another few days. But, having been away from home the longest of all his soldiers, his second had assured him that he would get the men back home on the next voyage - that he should take the local cargo vessel and sail overnight to reach home a few days early.
Vangelis had been on three different military campaigns, away from home since he was fifteen. He had been unable to resist.
Now, at just past nineteen years of age, Vangelis was at least a foot taller than he had been the last time he had walked this dock, the last time he had headed up the cliffside road to his capital city, the last time he had walked through the Midas city gates...
By the time he had walked his way to the capital, refusing the offering of three different horses by three different sailors and traders, Vangelis had managed to insist that he be left alone to walk the last few turns in solitary thought. It was so rare for him to find a moment to himself, with his role as prince and he was thankful to be able to look our over the Aegean Sea, from his cliffside position without witness. For he was only in some ways ashamed to feel the tightening of his throat and the prickling of his eyes as he saw that horizon again - that view that he'd also have from his bed chamber balcony.
Swallowing back his emotion, Vangelis headed inside the town and, in doing so, pulled the hood of his cloak up to hid his face. He didn't want a repeat of what had happened at the docks. He just wanted to get back and see his family. Right now, he was far from a prince and just a lost son trying to get home.
By the time he reached the Kotas family mansion, it was almost noon and he was hot and sweating from the trek up the hillside and through the different levels of the city. His white shirt stuck to his back in a fine line down his spine and his hair - overlong and already curling around his ears and neck was dampened at the roots. He was barely surprised when the guards at his family's front gate took a moment to blink before recognising him. The hair that was now damp was misshapen and badly cropped, having been trimmed over the years by means of a dagger and the reflective surface of a sword. His skin was dark, dingy and rough from the sea winds and the sandy land he had come from, and his clothes had more sewing in their patches than in their seams.
Far from the image of Prince Vangelis some four years ago.
Back then he had been the perfect royal. Combed, cleaned and dressed in the finest fashions. He had been paraded around the Court and Senate in order to get used to the feeling of being in charge. Then his father had sent him down the mines and left him with a commander for six months - a learning exercise he had so far bestowed upon all his sons. Straight after, he had been sent abroad where battles, war and bloodshed had stripped him of his royal affects, his simple life and his naive outlook on life. It wasn't just his body that returned home scarred.
Once he was allowed back into his home, Vangelis was desperate for a bathe and a change of clothes but then saw the gardens out back. Curved around the mountainside and carved out of the rock in order to offer the best light, the Kotas gardens were a joy to behold and a strange jewel of green in the dark hillside. And he had played in them as a child.
Feeling nostalgic, Vangelis headed for the gate, let himself through and then stood on one leg to relieve himself of his boot and sock. He then reversed the position to do the same with the other foot.
Once he was bear from the ankles down, Vangels took one then two steps onto the lush green grass and couldn't help smiling as he dug his toes into the earth.
Home.
Suddenly, there was a noise.
Vangelis looked up, already alert with muscles tight, and searched for the disturbance. War had made him edgy and sharp in his reflexes but he quickly discovered that such reactions were not needed when he saw, over and around a hedge, a large stallion prancing about. The noise had been the creatures sounds of rebellion as it skittered and shifted.
Because of the foliage between him and the animal, Vangelis couldn't see what was happening or who was controlling - or not controlling - the horse. But whomever it was, they were doing a poor job and were going to either hurt the stallion or themselves. So, he headed to investigate...
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May 18, 2019 17:37:26 GMT
Posted In Coming Home on May 18, 2019 17:37:26 GMT
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
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Home. Such a strange concept these days. Vangelis had spent the last four years away from Colchis, talking with men about that mythical... that ethereal "home".
They would talk about the sights, the sounds, the younger ones would mention a lass or a mother - someone who gave them comfort back home. The older ones would talk about the smell of their wife's homecooking.
When asked, Vangelis had had nothing to share of these stories. He would instead, speak of the view from his bedroom window - of the Kirakles islands, the Aegean Sea and the horizon where the two would meet. He would talk about watching the sun come up every morning, having pulled his riding pants on but remaining shirtless as he would lean against his balcony door and just let the first rays of the sun warm his skin. He missed that.
As the ship rode the last of its waves to the inner harbour of Midas, between cragged outcroppings and harsh, rocky shorelines, the wind changed directly and sent a new breeze in Vangelis' direction. The sharp minerals in the air and sweet tang of earth shot up his airways and drilled straight into his brain, into his childhood. He would know that smell anywhere. The scent and fumes of the Kirakles islands and the maze of tunnels that the Colchians had dig into them. The fresh dew of disturbed earth and the smoky texture of solid rock. He could taste it on his tongue - the salty sea air and the solid, full-bodied aroma of ore and clay; all twisted and mixed in the harsh and bitter winter wind.
Home.
As the ship pulled closer to the dock, Vangelis looked out over the short wooden structure. There were multiple short docks around the main isle of Kirakles, all of which led to roads that led to Midas. Like fingers spreading out from the capital and down to the water's edge. The tips of those fingers then reached out into the dark sea, calling to the nearby ships for docking and disturbing the water, breaking waves in the wind. This dock in particular seemed to be comprised mostly of sailors and fishermen, lugging in a new haul. A few looked up at the ship as it came into port and one paused. He nudged his friend and pointed up towards Vangelis who waved a hand in greeting.
Suddenly, shouts could be heard around the dock, people yelled and waved. The sailors who remembered him, who recognised him, were happy to have their crown prince home. "It's Prince Vangelis!" he heard one call. "The prince is back!" yelled a second. Giving a small smile and a nod of recognition, Vangelis raised his hand in hello to a few others, as the sailors of his ship fastened the belly to the port side.
Unwilling to wait for the wooden walkway to be put in place, Vangelis hopping down and over the ships side, eager to feel the Colchian soil beneath his boots.
He landed with a thump that sent people sprawling to get out of his way but then, as the tide turned, was accosted by his people. He had not informed anyone that he was returning home on the day he was. He hadn't made preparations or plans for anyone to meet him at the docks. His family weren't even expecting him for another few days. But, having been away from home the longest of all his soldiers, his second had assured him that he would get the men back home on the next voyage - that he should take the local cargo vessel and sail overnight to reach home a few days early.
Vangelis had been on three different military campaigns, away from home since he was fifteen. He had been unable to resist.
Now, at just past nineteen years of age, Vangelis was at least a foot taller than he had been the last time he had walked this dock, the last time he had headed up the cliffside road to his capital city, the last time he had walked through the Midas city gates...
By the time he had walked his way to the capital, refusing the offering of three different horses by three different sailors and traders, Vangelis had managed to insist that he be left alone to walk the last few turns in solitary thought. It was so rare for him to find a moment to himself, with his role as prince and he was thankful to be able to look our over the Aegean Sea, from his cliffside position without witness. For he was only in some ways ashamed to feel the tightening of his throat and the prickling of his eyes as he saw that horizon again - that view that he'd also have from his bed chamber balcony.
Swallowing back his emotion, Vangelis headed inside the town and, in doing so, pulled the hood of his cloak up to hid his face. He didn't want a repeat of what had happened at the docks. He just wanted to get back and see his family. Right now, he was far from a prince and just a lost son trying to get home.
By the time he reached the Kotas family mansion, it was almost noon and he was hot and sweating from the trek up the hillside and through the different levels of the city. His white shirt stuck to his back in a fine line down his spine and his hair - overlong and already curling around his ears and neck was dampened at the roots. He was barely surprised when the guards at his family's front gate took a moment to blink before recognising him. The hair that was now damp was misshapen and badly cropped, having been trimmed over the years by means of a dagger and the reflective surface of a sword. His skin was dark, dingy and rough from the sea winds and the sandy land he had come from, and his clothes had more sewing in their patches than in their seams.
Far from the image of Prince Vangelis some four years ago.
Back then he had been the perfect royal. Combed, cleaned and dressed in the finest fashions. He had been paraded around the Court and Senate in order to get used to the feeling of being in charge. Then his father had sent him down the mines and left him with a commander for six months - a learning exercise he had so far bestowed upon all his sons. Straight after, he had been sent abroad where battles, war and bloodshed had stripped him of his royal affects, his simple life and his naive outlook on life. It wasn't just his body that returned home scarred.
Once he was allowed back into his home, Vangelis was desperate for a bathe and a change of clothes but then saw the gardens out back. Curved around the mountainside and carved out of the rock in order to offer the best light, the Kotas gardens were a joy to behold and a strange jewel of green in the dark hillside. And he had played in them as a child.
Feeling nostalgic, Vangelis headed for the gate, let himself through and then stood on one leg to relieve himself of his boot and sock. He then reversed the position to do the same with the other foot.
Once he was bear from the ankles down, Vangels took one then two steps onto the lush green grass and couldn't help smiling as he dug his toes into the earth.
Home.
Suddenly, there was a noise.
Vangelis looked up, already alert with muscles tight, and searched for the disturbance. War had made him edgy and sharp in his reflexes but he quickly discovered that such reactions were not needed when he saw, over and around a hedge, a large stallion prancing about. The noise had been the creatures sounds of rebellion as it skittered and shifted.
Because of the foliage between him and the animal, Vangelis couldn't see what was happening or who was controlling - or not controlling - the horse. But whomever it was, they were doing a poor job and were going to either hurt the stallion or themselves. So, he headed to investigate...
Home. Such a strange concept these days. Vangelis had spent the last four years away from Colchis, talking with men about that mythical... that ethereal "home".
They would talk about the sights, the sounds, the younger ones would mention a lass or a mother - someone who gave them comfort back home. The older ones would talk about the smell of their wife's homecooking.
When asked, Vangelis had had nothing to share of these stories. He would instead, speak of the view from his bedroom window - of the Kirakles islands, the Aegean Sea and the horizon where the two would meet. He would talk about watching the sun come up every morning, having pulled his riding pants on but remaining shirtless as he would lean against his balcony door and just let the first rays of the sun warm his skin. He missed that.
As the ship rode the last of its waves to the inner harbour of Midas, between cragged outcroppings and harsh, rocky shorelines, the wind changed directly and sent a new breeze in Vangelis' direction. The sharp minerals in the air and sweet tang of earth shot up his airways and drilled straight into his brain, into his childhood. He would know that smell anywhere. The scent and fumes of the Kirakles islands and the maze of tunnels that the Colchians had dig into them. The fresh dew of disturbed earth and the smoky texture of solid rock. He could taste it on his tongue - the salty sea air and the solid, full-bodied aroma of ore and clay; all twisted and mixed in the harsh and bitter winter wind.
Home.
As the ship pulled closer to the dock, Vangelis looked out over the short wooden structure. There were multiple short docks around the main isle of Kirakles, all of which led to roads that led to Midas. Like fingers spreading out from the capital and down to the water's edge. The tips of those fingers then reached out into the dark sea, calling to the nearby ships for docking and disturbing the water, breaking waves in the wind. This dock in particular seemed to be comprised mostly of sailors and fishermen, lugging in a new haul. A few looked up at the ship as it came into port and one paused. He nudged his friend and pointed up towards Vangelis who waved a hand in greeting.
Suddenly, shouts could be heard around the dock, people yelled and waved. The sailors who remembered him, who recognised him, were happy to have their crown prince home. "It's Prince Vangelis!" he heard one call. "The prince is back!" yelled a second. Giving a small smile and a nod of recognition, Vangelis raised his hand in hello to a few others, as the sailors of his ship fastened the belly to the port side.
Unwilling to wait for the wooden walkway to be put in place, Vangelis hopping down and over the ships side, eager to feel the Colchian soil beneath his boots.
He landed with a thump that sent people sprawling to get out of his way but then, as the tide turned, was accosted by his people. He had not informed anyone that he was returning home on the day he was. He hadn't made preparations or plans for anyone to meet him at the docks. His family weren't even expecting him for another few days. But, having been away from home the longest of all his soldiers, his second had assured him that he would get the men back home on the next voyage - that he should take the local cargo vessel and sail overnight to reach home a few days early.
Vangelis had been on three different military campaigns, away from home since he was fifteen. He had been unable to resist.
Now, at just past nineteen years of age, Vangelis was at least a foot taller than he had been the last time he had walked this dock, the last time he had headed up the cliffside road to his capital city, the last time he had walked through the Midas city gates...
By the time he had walked his way to the capital, refusing the offering of three different horses by three different sailors and traders, Vangelis had managed to insist that he be left alone to walk the last few turns in solitary thought. It was so rare for him to find a moment to himself, with his role as prince and he was thankful to be able to look our over the Aegean Sea, from his cliffside position without witness. For he was only in some ways ashamed to feel the tightening of his throat and the prickling of his eyes as he saw that horizon again - that view that he'd also have from his bed chamber balcony.
Swallowing back his emotion, Vangelis headed inside the town and, in doing so, pulled the hood of his cloak up to hid his face. He didn't want a repeat of what had happened at the docks. He just wanted to get back and see his family. Right now, he was far from a prince and just a lost son trying to get home.
By the time he reached the Kotas family mansion, it was almost noon and he was hot and sweating from the trek up the hillside and through the different levels of the city. His white shirt stuck to his back in a fine line down his spine and his hair - overlong and already curling around his ears and neck was dampened at the roots. He was barely surprised when the guards at his family's front gate took a moment to blink before recognising him. The hair that was now damp was misshapen and badly cropped, having been trimmed over the years by means of a dagger and the reflective surface of a sword. His skin was dark, dingy and rough from the sea winds and the sandy land he had come from, and his clothes had more sewing in their patches than in their seams.
Far from the image of Prince Vangelis some four years ago.
Back then he had been the perfect royal. Combed, cleaned and dressed in the finest fashions. He had been paraded around the Court and Senate in order to get used to the feeling of being in charge. Then his father had sent him down the mines and left him with a commander for six months - a learning exercise he had so far bestowed upon all his sons. Straight after, he had been sent abroad where battles, war and bloodshed had stripped him of his royal affects, his simple life and his naive outlook on life. It wasn't just his body that returned home scarred.
Once he was allowed back into his home, Vangelis was desperate for a bathe and a change of clothes but then saw the gardens out back. Curved around the mountainside and carved out of the rock in order to offer the best light, the Kotas gardens were a joy to behold and a strange jewel of green in the dark hillside. And he had played in them as a child.
Feeling nostalgic, Vangelis headed for the gate, let himself through and then stood on one leg to relieve himself of his boot and sock. He then reversed the position to do the same with the other foot.
Once he was bear from the ankles down, Vangels took one then two steps onto the lush green grass and couldn't help smiling as he dug his toes into the earth.
Home.
Suddenly, there was a noise.
Vangelis looked up, already alert with muscles tight, and searched for the disturbance. War had made him edgy and sharp in his reflexes but he quickly discovered that such reactions were not needed when he saw, over and around a hedge, a large stallion prancing about. The noise had been the creatures sounds of rebellion as it skittered and shifted.
Because of the foliage between him and the animal, Vangelis couldn't see what was happening or who was controlling - or not controlling - the horse. But whomever it was, they were doing a poor job and were going to either hurt the stallion or themselves. So, he headed to investigate...
It was astounding how much could change in four years.
In the allotted span of time, Euphemia had gained freedom and lost parents. Her home had transformed from a modest one room cottage by the sea to the royal family’s mansion resting on the highest mountain in Midas. The small family of three she had belonged to before multiplied with granted permission to live with the Kotas family. In return, she worked for the sibling closest in age to her, who just so happened to be her best friend.
In other words, life couldn’t be better.
From just before sunrise to a little after sunset, she spent nearly every waking hour beside Athanasia. It was a young girl’s dream to spend all day long with her best friend. Her best friend just also happened to be her mistress and the reason she was able to stay.
But that particular afternoon, she was busy. Off doing princess things that she could not join her on, Euphemia was left on her own. It had been two years since she had moved in fully with the Kotas family, and still she had yet to explore every inch of their home and the surrounding estate. The girl decided to take her free time to do just that.
Any passing guard or maid would’ve known by the look on her face that she was up to something. To be fair, Euphemia was always up to something. She was known for finding something to stick her freckled nose in, even when it seemed impossible to do so. If there was a way, Euphemia would figure it out.
It was also astounding how much could change in a matter of seconds.
There was little Euphemia wasn’t able to do on the grounds now, especially when Athanasia stomped her foot and insisted her fellow blonde should get to do whatever it was as well. One of those things had been riding the royal family’s horses. So what better time to try to do such a thing than when all of the said family was off doing something and wouldn’t be around to catch her?
The only thing was, however, was that Euphemia hadn’t the slightest idea how exactly to ride a horse. That meant that she didn’t know how to saddle it, properly or not, how to situate the reins, or how to even get onto the horse itself. She ended up saddling it wrong, attaching the reins incorrectly, and clambered up onto the horse by climbing a nearby pole and jumping onto it.
Needless to say, the horse wasn’t all too happy with her presence on its back, especially seeing as she hadn’t taken the correct precautions in assuring its comfort. The unskilled pubescent rider was unable to sense its growing discomfort and mounting anger, and so when it began to prance about in a manner to send her off, Euphemia had no ability to soothe it.
Instead, she clung to the animal and feared for her life. She had heard of the horror stories when interacting with the creatures, from being trampled to death to being flung across large distances and injuring major body functions, like bones or organs. The idea of meeting a similar fate gave her the strength to hold on for as long as she possibly could.
Somehow, some way, she managed to grip the reins tight enough so that as she began to fall off to one side, the horse turned. Instead of her getting trampled underneath the massive animal, it headed for the opposite direction than the one she went in. When she landed, it was at a safe distance from any hooves attached to powerful legs. Somehow, she had narrowly escaped any massive damage, and made it out mostly unscathed.
Heart pounding in her chest, blood flooding her ears, she did not hear nor see the man approach- Nor did she see the horse seemingly mock her by stomping off into its stall in the stables. Apparently, she had chosen the stallion with the most attitude to try and ride.
The saddle and reins had fallen off with her, but were scattered a few meters away. Once the dust cleared, to an onlooker, the scene would'e depicted the girl having been cleaning up or polishing the leather horse riding gear, tripping along the way, and dropping the items.
Unless, of course, they had been watching the entire time.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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May 18, 2019 17:37:54 GMT
Posted In Coming Home on May 18, 2019 17:37:54 GMT
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
It was astounding how much could change in four years.
In the allotted span of time, Euphemia had gained freedom and lost parents. Her home had transformed from a modest one room cottage by the sea to the royal family’s mansion resting on the highest mountain in Midas. The small family of three she had belonged to before multiplied with granted permission to live with the Kotas family. In return, she worked for the sibling closest in age to her, who just so happened to be her best friend.
In other words, life couldn’t be better.
From just before sunrise to a little after sunset, she spent nearly every waking hour beside Athanasia. It was a young girl’s dream to spend all day long with her best friend. Her best friend just also happened to be her mistress and the reason she was able to stay.
But that particular afternoon, she was busy. Off doing princess things that she could not join her on, Euphemia was left on her own. It had been two years since she had moved in fully with the Kotas family, and still she had yet to explore every inch of their home and the surrounding estate. The girl decided to take her free time to do just that.
Any passing guard or maid would’ve known by the look on her face that she was up to something. To be fair, Euphemia was always up to something. She was known for finding something to stick her freckled nose in, even when it seemed impossible to do so. If there was a way, Euphemia would figure it out.
It was also astounding how much could change in a matter of seconds.
There was little Euphemia wasn’t able to do on the grounds now, especially when Athanasia stomped her foot and insisted her fellow blonde should get to do whatever it was as well. One of those things had been riding the royal family’s horses. So what better time to try to do such a thing than when all of the said family was off doing something and wouldn’t be around to catch her?
The only thing was, however, was that Euphemia hadn’t the slightest idea how exactly to ride a horse. That meant that she didn’t know how to saddle it, properly or not, how to situate the reins, or how to even get onto the horse itself. She ended up saddling it wrong, attaching the reins incorrectly, and clambered up onto the horse by climbing a nearby pole and jumping onto it.
Needless to say, the horse wasn’t all too happy with her presence on its back, especially seeing as she hadn’t taken the correct precautions in assuring its comfort. The unskilled pubescent rider was unable to sense its growing discomfort and mounting anger, and so when it began to prance about in a manner to send her off, Euphemia had no ability to soothe it.
Instead, she clung to the animal and feared for her life. She had heard of the horror stories when interacting with the creatures, from being trampled to death to being flung across large distances and injuring major body functions, like bones or organs. The idea of meeting a similar fate gave her the strength to hold on for as long as she possibly could.
Somehow, some way, she managed to grip the reins tight enough so that as she began to fall off to one side, the horse turned. Instead of her getting trampled underneath the massive animal, it headed for the opposite direction than the one she went in. When she landed, it was at a safe distance from any hooves attached to powerful legs. Somehow, she had narrowly escaped any massive damage, and made it out mostly unscathed.
Heart pounding in her chest, blood flooding her ears, she did not hear nor see the man approach- Nor did she see the horse seemingly mock her by stomping off into its stall in the stables. Apparently, she had chosen the stallion with the most attitude to try and ride.
The saddle and reins had fallen off with her, but were scattered a few meters away. Once the dust cleared, to an onlooker, the scene would'e depicted the girl having been cleaning up or polishing the leather horse riding gear, tripping along the way, and dropping the items.
Unless, of course, they had been watching the entire time.
It was astounding how much could change in four years.
In the allotted span of time, Euphemia had gained freedom and lost parents. Her home had transformed from a modest one room cottage by the sea to the royal family’s mansion resting on the highest mountain in Midas. The small family of three she had belonged to before multiplied with granted permission to live with the Kotas family. In return, she worked for the sibling closest in age to her, who just so happened to be her best friend.
In other words, life couldn’t be better.
From just before sunrise to a little after sunset, she spent nearly every waking hour beside Athanasia. It was a young girl’s dream to spend all day long with her best friend. Her best friend just also happened to be her mistress and the reason she was able to stay.
But that particular afternoon, she was busy. Off doing princess things that she could not join her on, Euphemia was left on her own. It had been two years since she had moved in fully with the Kotas family, and still she had yet to explore every inch of their home and the surrounding estate. The girl decided to take her free time to do just that.
Any passing guard or maid would’ve known by the look on her face that she was up to something. To be fair, Euphemia was always up to something. She was known for finding something to stick her freckled nose in, even when it seemed impossible to do so. If there was a way, Euphemia would figure it out.
It was also astounding how much could change in a matter of seconds.
There was little Euphemia wasn’t able to do on the grounds now, especially when Athanasia stomped her foot and insisted her fellow blonde should get to do whatever it was as well. One of those things had been riding the royal family’s horses. So what better time to try to do such a thing than when all of the said family was off doing something and wouldn’t be around to catch her?
The only thing was, however, was that Euphemia hadn’t the slightest idea how exactly to ride a horse. That meant that she didn’t know how to saddle it, properly or not, how to situate the reins, or how to even get onto the horse itself. She ended up saddling it wrong, attaching the reins incorrectly, and clambered up onto the horse by climbing a nearby pole and jumping onto it.
Needless to say, the horse wasn’t all too happy with her presence on its back, especially seeing as she hadn’t taken the correct precautions in assuring its comfort. The unskilled pubescent rider was unable to sense its growing discomfort and mounting anger, and so when it began to prance about in a manner to send her off, Euphemia had no ability to soothe it.
Instead, she clung to the animal and feared for her life. She had heard of the horror stories when interacting with the creatures, from being trampled to death to being flung across large distances and injuring major body functions, like bones or organs. The idea of meeting a similar fate gave her the strength to hold on for as long as she possibly could.
Somehow, some way, she managed to grip the reins tight enough so that as she began to fall off to one side, the horse turned. Instead of her getting trampled underneath the massive animal, it headed for the opposite direction than the one she went in. When she landed, it was at a safe distance from any hooves attached to powerful legs. Somehow, she had narrowly escaped any massive damage, and made it out mostly unscathed.
Heart pounding in her chest, blood flooding her ears, she did not hear nor see the man approach- Nor did she see the horse seemingly mock her by stomping off into its stall in the stables. Apparently, she had chosen the stallion with the most attitude to try and ride.
The saddle and reins had fallen off with her, but were scattered a few meters away. Once the dust cleared, to an onlooker, the scene would'e depicted the girl having been cleaning up or polishing the leather horse riding gear, tripping along the way, and dropping the items.
Unless, of course, they had been watching the entire time.
"What do you think you are doing?"
The voice was harsh but only in tone rather than nature. Having spent the last four years barking orders at men who ne'er listened unless they were ordered to with a tone of authority that had them quaking in their boots, Vangelis' adult and very masculine voice had developed into a gravelly baritone that was frightening just in pitch, let alone in intention.
As he rushed around the side of the hedge and into the paddock of the royal stables, he was there in just enough time to see the stallion he had heard in distress prancing away from a prone figure on the ground. As it danced away, a poorly fastened saddle fell to the ground off of its back and the reigns were soon dispatched from it's head with a flicking and shaking of its neck.
The little figure on the floor - a girl who couldn't be more than maybe seven or eight years of age - had wisely held her hands up over her head, clearly in fear of being trampled and took a moment to look up and around herself.
Striding forward in order to pick up the fallen saddle, Vangelis grabbed the pommel of the accessory and lifted it one handed. Settling the seat onto the gate of one of the stables doors, he then fished the reins out from where they had fallen and gotten tangled in some straw.
He had no interest to chase the intruder if she ran, nor any desire to see her punished - he was far too tired from his journey to be concerned with an interloper who was brave - and silly - enough to attempt trespass in the Kotas family stables. Even if she did appear old enough to know the difference between right and wrong.
As his concern was little for the girl, Vangelis instead turned his attention to the animal that had hidden away in their own stock. Stepping inside and securing the reins on over his head correctly, Vangelis was pleased to see that the creature was Windrunner, the horse he had grown up learning to ride on. A little old now and normally well-tempered, he couldn't imagine was the little urchin had done to him to make him so unsettled.
With a tender and soothing hand on the stallion's neck and another on his nose, Vangelis quickly calmed the beast and then took a hold of the leather reins. With a tug of his grip and a click of his tongue, he urged the horse back out into the paddock so that he could check his step and stride. If the kid had upset him too much and caused his to misplace a foot, she could have caused him some damage. He was a fine Leventi bred warhorse and Vangelis would have not been pleased.
After a walk and then a prance and trot down one side of the paddock, however, Vangelis was pleased to see that the animal hadn't suffered from the naive handling of an ignorant girl and was surprised to turn and find the little thing still there.
"Are you crazy?" He asked her, his voice sharp and his steely blue eyes narrowed. "You could have hurt him. Or yourself."
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May 18, 2019 17:38:11 GMT
Posted In Coming Home on May 18, 2019 17:38:11 GMT
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"What do you think you are doing?"
The voice was harsh but only in tone rather than nature. Having spent the last four years barking orders at men who ne'er listened unless they were ordered to with a tone of authority that had them quaking in their boots, Vangelis' adult and very masculine voice had developed into a gravelly baritone that was frightening just in pitch, let alone in intention.
As he rushed around the side of the hedge and into the paddock of the royal stables, he was there in just enough time to see the stallion he had heard in distress prancing away from a prone figure on the ground. As it danced away, a poorly fastened saddle fell to the ground off of its back and the reigns were soon dispatched from it's head with a flicking and shaking of its neck.
The little figure on the floor - a girl who couldn't be more than maybe seven or eight years of age - had wisely held her hands up over her head, clearly in fear of being trampled and took a moment to look up and around herself.
Striding forward in order to pick up the fallen saddle, Vangelis grabbed the pommel of the accessory and lifted it one handed. Settling the seat onto the gate of one of the stables doors, he then fished the reins out from where they had fallen and gotten tangled in some straw.
He had no interest to chase the intruder if she ran, nor any desire to see her punished - he was far too tired from his journey to be concerned with an interloper who was brave - and silly - enough to attempt trespass in the Kotas family stables. Even if she did appear old enough to know the difference between right and wrong.
As his concern was little for the girl, Vangelis instead turned his attention to the animal that had hidden away in their own stock. Stepping inside and securing the reins on over his head correctly, Vangelis was pleased to see that the creature was Windrunner, the horse he had grown up learning to ride on. A little old now and normally well-tempered, he couldn't imagine was the little urchin had done to him to make him so unsettled.
With a tender and soothing hand on the stallion's neck and another on his nose, Vangelis quickly calmed the beast and then took a hold of the leather reins. With a tug of his grip and a click of his tongue, he urged the horse back out into the paddock so that he could check his step and stride. If the kid had upset him too much and caused his to misplace a foot, she could have caused him some damage. He was a fine Leventi bred warhorse and Vangelis would have not been pleased.
After a walk and then a prance and trot down one side of the paddock, however, Vangelis was pleased to see that the animal hadn't suffered from the naive handling of an ignorant girl and was surprised to turn and find the little thing still there.
"Are you crazy?" He asked her, his voice sharp and his steely blue eyes narrowed. "You could have hurt him. Or yourself."
"What do you think you are doing?"
The voice was harsh but only in tone rather than nature. Having spent the last four years barking orders at men who ne'er listened unless they were ordered to with a tone of authority that had them quaking in their boots, Vangelis' adult and very masculine voice had developed into a gravelly baritone that was frightening just in pitch, let alone in intention.
As he rushed around the side of the hedge and into the paddock of the royal stables, he was there in just enough time to see the stallion he had heard in distress prancing away from a prone figure on the ground. As it danced away, a poorly fastened saddle fell to the ground off of its back and the reigns were soon dispatched from it's head with a flicking and shaking of its neck.
The little figure on the floor - a girl who couldn't be more than maybe seven or eight years of age - had wisely held her hands up over her head, clearly in fear of being trampled and took a moment to look up and around herself.
Striding forward in order to pick up the fallen saddle, Vangelis grabbed the pommel of the accessory and lifted it one handed. Settling the seat onto the gate of one of the stables doors, he then fished the reins out from where they had fallen and gotten tangled in some straw.
He had no interest to chase the intruder if she ran, nor any desire to see her punished - he was far too tired from his journey to be concerned with an interloper who was brave - and silly - enough to attempt trespass in the Kotas family stables. Even if she did appear old enough to know the difference between right and wrong.
As his concern was little for the girl, Vangelis instead turned his attention to the animal that had hidden away in their own stock. Stepping inside and securing the reins on over his head correctly, Vangelis was pleased to see that the creature was Windrunner, the horse he had grown up learning to ride on. A little old now and normally well-tempered, he couldn't imagine was the little urchin had done to him to make him so unsettled.
With a tender and soothing hand on the stallion's neck and another on his nose, Vangelis quickly calmed the beast and then took a hold of the leather reins. With a tug of his grip and a click of his tongue, he urged the horse back out into the paddock so that he could check his step and stride. If the kid had upset him too much and caused his to misplace a foot, she could have caused him some damage. He was a fine Leventi bred warhorse and Vangelis would have not been pleased.
After a walk and then a prance and trot down one side of the paddock, however, Vangelis was pleased to see that the animal hadn't suffered from the naive handling of an ignorant girl and was surprised to turn and find the little thing still there.
"Are you crazy?" He asked her, his voice sharp and his steely blue eyes narrowed. "You could have hurt him. Or yourself."
It turned out, someone had been watching the entire scene unfold.
They called out to her. Immediately, the seemingly fearless girl found the emotion taking a tight grip. It rummaged about between her lungs and wrapped its chilly fingers around her heart, increasing the beatings’ tempo. Frozen, the girl’s body had not yet left the ground. Legs sprawled out in front of her, still located where she had tucked them in, she stared at the figure crossing the grounds, jaw loose, lips agape.
Said figure did not make any movement towards her. Dumbfounded that she was not yelled at any further, her bright gaze surveyed his movements with the horse. In her defense, the girl had seen very little care for the animals, and so she could not recreate something she had not seen enough to remember. It seemed it would take a rather intense moment for her to learn how.
Unmoving, she studied his movements from across the landscape. From the way he gently caressed the animal’s décolletage and proboscis, to the fashion in which he led it out and around. Sat in awe, the girl’s neck moved this way and that, keeping her gaze glued on the man’s movements, and then the horse’s.
When the stern voice once again hit her ears, Euphemia sat up a bit straighter. It was something about the rigidness in his tone that made her feel required to do so. HIs gaze narrowed upon her, and yet, there was something familiar in it. If she pushed its hostility away, squinted a little, and tilted her head just a bit to the right, something about the look in his eyes had her brain searching her memories for a match.
Her attempt to remember slowed her tongue- Which would’ve been a miracle in any situation other than this one. Swallowing, she scrambled for control over it and to be back on her feet. “I-I know. I know I could have, but that was never my intention! I swear it.” Reaching up, she tucked wild strands behind her ear and lowered her eyes in shame.
“I just . . . I just wished to be able to ride him. You know, as some can? I’ve seen people just go whoosh! around here on them, and I wanted to be able to do that.” She grinned at the idea, excitement leaking into her tone as she rambled a bit. Soon enough, she was looking up at him with an eager expression.
That was until she remembered just what could happen if he decided she ought to learn her lesson more than she already had. Her chin ducked back to her chest, unkempt strands falling and covering her face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt him. Please, sir. I-I won’t again.” Well, she meant it all up until the last line, because she probably would now that she knew somewhat what to do.
Little by little, she raised up her head again. Anticipation bubbled in her stomach, the fear from before having not yet left her. It was then that it clicked, her brain finding a match for the eyes. “Lord Vangelis?” she asked, lips parting. She hadn’t known he would be returning. The last time she had seen him had been many, many moons ago, but even then she hadn’t recognized him from before. Her memory may have been underdeveloped at the time, but the Vangelis she had known when his name was spoken by those around her was not anything like the one in front of her- Sans those eyes.
“You’ve returned,” she exhaled, surprise leaking onto her features once more for a different reason than prior.
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May 18, 2019 17:38:36 GMT
Posted In Coming Home on May 18, 2019 17:38:36 GMT
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It turned out, someone had been watching the entire scene unfold.
They called out to her. Immediately, the seemingly fearless girl found the emotion taking a tight grip. It rummaged about between her lungs and wrapped its chilly fingers around her heart, increasing the beatings’ tempo. Frozen, the girl’s body had not yet left the ground. Legs sprawled out in front of her, still located where she had tucked them in, she stared at the figure crossing the grounds, jaw loose, lips agape.
Said figure did not make any movement towards her. Dumbfounded that she was not yelled at any further, her bright gaze surveyed his movements with the horse. In her defense, the girl had seen very little care for the animals, and so she could not recreate something she had not seen enough to remember. It seemed it would take a rather intense moment for her to learn how.
Unmoving, she studied his movements from across the landscape. From the way he gently caressed the animal’s décolletage and proboscis, to the fashion in which he led it out and around. Sat in awe, the girl’s neck moved this way and that, keeping her gaze glued on the man’s movements, and then the horse’s.
When the stern voice once again hit her ears, Euphemia sat up a bit straighter. It was something about the rigidness in his tone that made her feel required to do so. HIs gaze narrowed upon her, and yet, there was something familiar in it. If she pushed its hostility away, squinted a little, and tilted her head just a bit to the right, something about the look in his eyes had her brain searching her memories for a match.
Her attempt to remember slowed her tongue- Which would’ve been a miracle in any situation other than this one. Swallowing, she scrambled for control over it and to be back on her feet. “I-I know. I know I could have, but that was never my intention! I swear it.” Reaching up, she tucked wild strands behind her ear and lowered her eyes in shame.
“I just . . . I just wished to be able to ride him. You know, as some can? I’ve seen people just go whoosh! around here on them, and I wanted to be able to do that.” She grinned at the idea, excitement leaking into her tone as she rambled a bit. Soon enough, she was looking up at him with an eager expression.
That was until she remembered just what could happen if he decided she ought to learn her lesson more than she already had. Her chin ducked back to her chest, unkempt strands falling and covering her face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt him. Please, sir. I-I won’t again.” Well, she meant it all up until the last line, because she probably would now that she knew somewhat what to do.
Little by little, she raised up her head again. Anticipation bubbled in her stomach, the fear from before having not yet left her. It was then that it clicked, her brain finding a match for the eyes. “Lord Vangelis?” she asked, lips parting. She hadn’t known he would be returning. The last time she had seen him had been many, many moons ago, but even then she hadn’t recognized him from before. Her memory may have been underdeveloped at the time, but the Vangelis she had known when his name was spoken by those around her was not anything like the one in front of her- Sans those eyes.
“You’ve returned,” she exhaled, surprise leaking onto her features once more for a different reason than prior.
It turned out, someone had been watching the entire scene unfold.
They called out to her. Immediately, the seemingly fearless girl found the emotion taking a tight grip. It rummaged about between her lungs and wrapped its chilly fingers around her heart, increasing the beatings’ tempo. Frozen, the girl’s body had not yet left the ground. Legs sprawled out in front of her, still located where she had tucked them in, she stared at the figure crossing the grounds, jaw loose, lips agape.
Said figure did not make any movement towards her. Dumbfounded that she was not yelled at any further, her bright gaze surveyed his movements with the horse. In her defense, the girl had seen very little care for the animals, and so she could not recreate something she had not seen enough to remember. It seemed it would take a rather intense moment for her to learn how.
Unmoving, she studied his movements from across the landscape. From the way he gently caressed the animal’s décolletage and proboscis, to the fashion in which he led it out and around. Sat in awe, the girl’s neck moved this way and that, keeping her gaze glued on the man’s movements, and then the horse’s.
When the stern voice once again hit her ears, Euphemia sat up a bit straighter. It was something about the rigidness in his tone that made her feel required to do so. HIs gaze narrowed upon her, and yet, there was something familiar in it. If she pushed its hostility away, squinted a little, and tilted her head just a bit to the right, something about the look in his eyes had her brain searching her memories for a match.
Her attempt to remember slowed her tongue- Which would’ve been a miracle in any situation other than this one. Swallowing, she scrambled for control over it and to be back on her feet. “I-I know. I know I could have, but that was never my intention! I swear it.” Reaching up, she tucked wild strands behind her ear and lowered her eyes in shame.
“I just . . . I just wished to be able to ride him. You know, as some can? I’ve seen people just go whoosh! around here on them, and I wanted to be able to do that.” She grinned at the idea, excitement leaking into her tone as she rambled a bit. Soon enough, she was looking up at him with an eager expression.
That was until she remembered just what could happen if he decided she ought to learn her lesson more than she already had. Her chin ducked back to her chest, unkempt strands falling and covering her face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt him. Please, sir. I-I won’t again.” Well, she meant it all up until the last line, because she probably would now that she knew somewhat what to do.
Little by little, she raised up her head again. Anticipation bubbled in her stomach, the fear from before having not yet left her. It was then that it clicked, her brain finding a match for the eyes. “Lord Vangelis?” she asked, lips parting. She hadn’t known he would be returning. The last time she had seen him had been many, many moons ago, but even then she hadn’t recognized him from before. Her memory may have been underdeveloped at the time, but the Vangelis she had known when his name was spoken by those around her was not anything like the one in front of her- Sans those eyes.
“You’ve returned,” she exhaled, surprise leaking onto her features once more for a different reason than prior.
Vangelis stood still, holding Windrunner stationary as the little girl stumbled over herself to apologise, to insist that she had never meant any harm and to vehemently promise that she would never do it again - a promise that Vangelis didn't believe for a second. A child eager enough to attempt to ride a horse way too big for them, when no-one else was around, was brave enough to break a promise without much thought.
Not a man of many words at the best of times, Vangelis continued to stroke Windrunner's mane and nose, keeping him calm soft against his leading hand. The horse seemed to recognise him as it nuzzled his snout into Vangelis' neck and chest and gave his hair a good sniff.
Yeah... I know I don't look like much anymore my old friend... The prince thought, patting the horse's neck. But at least you recognise me, huh?
It was as he was thinking this that the young trespasser got to her feet and Vangelis, from the corner of his eye, noticed her clothes for the first time. While simple and cheap in their cut and style, the fabric was expensive and looked very similar to the kind his mother had always purchased for the servants and slaves of the household...
He frowned as the girl spoke up, addressing him by a name he hadn't given her and frowning at him as if in assessment of his features.
He couldn't blame the girl for wondering if he was in fact "Lord Vangelis" given his state of decay. His clothes were ragged, his hair was unkempt and hanging in awkward clumps where it had been miscut over the years. His nineteen years had now adorned him with an almost permanent stubble and shadow over his jaw - which he had been severely lacking at fifteen - and in general he was approximately twice the size and height he had been as a scrawny teenager.
He had left the Kirakles islands a small and lean prince of the realm. He had returned a big, rough and dishevelled looking warrior. Not that Vangelis could ever see his new-found aesthetics in such an attractive light.
When the girl insisted and queried in the same voice that he had returned, Vangelis was surprised to find the use of the word "returned". It suggested that the girl had known him before he had left and he narrowed his gaze on her in turn. From his prior assessment, he had worked out that she must be approximately eight years old... which put her at four when he had first left to fight abroad. But then there was something about that hair he recognised...
"You're the girl who follows my sister around." He said, almost to himself.
So, she wasn't a trespasser - or an interloper. She was just an over-eager slave of his household.
"Regardless, you still shouldn't be trying to ride a horse - especially not a war horse - alone, when you have no idea how." He told her, ignoring her assertions of both his name and his return to his home. He wasn't going to confirm his identity to a serving girl when his answers to her would likely prove his name and title. Especially if she caught sight of his house ring and signet on his hand.
Noticing the girl's eager look at the horse and her endearing comment about wanting to go "whoosh!" Vangelis felt something stir in him that hadn't in over four years. Having grown up with four younger siblings, Vangelis as used to playing the role of paternal brother and his more sensitive and caring side had not come out to play for many a year...
As if on queue, a second horse - Belladonna - popped her head over her stock door and seemed to wave at him with her nose. The pony was far more the right temperament and size for a young girl to be learning to ride on...
Rolling his eyes and sighing to himself, mentally postponing the bath and sleep he so desperately needed, Vangelis took hold of Windrunner's reins and led him back into his stable. Once secured and removed his tack, Vangelis then transferred the headgear to the smaller horse.
Belladonna was a beautiful mare that his mother favoured and was an elegant creature. Several hands shorted than Windrunner and built on smaller lines, the white and grey of her hide and the dark black of her eyes were both soft and comforting to new riders. She also had a docile and forgiving temperament.
Taking up the correct saddle and silently fitting the horse properly, Vangelis fastened the gear firmly without any need to keep the mare calm. She stood there, perfectly willing to be utilised for a lesson.
When he was done, Vangelis turned to the young girl who still stood nervously in the middle of the paddock.
"Come on..." He said, with a gesture towards the creature. "If teaching you is the only way I can be assured that you aren't going to harm my horses or break your neck, then come on..."
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May 18, 2019 17:39:03 GMT
Posted In Coming Home on May 18, 2019 17:39:03 GMT
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Vangelis stood still, holding Windrunner stationary as the little girl stumbled over herself to apologise, to insist that she had never meant any harm and to vehemently promise that she would never do it again - a promise that Vangelis didn't believe for a second. A child eager enough to attempt to ride a horse way too big for them, when no-one else was around, was brave enough to break a promise without much thought.
Not a man of many words at the best of times, Vangelis continued to stroke Windrunner's mane and nose, keeping him calm soft against his leading hand. The horse seemed to recognise him as it nuzzled his snout into Vangelis' neck and chest and gave his hair a good sniff.
Yeah... I know I don't look like much anymore my old friend... The prince thought, patting the horse's neck. But at least you recognise me, huh?
It was as he was thinking this that the young trespasser got to her feet and Vangelis, from the corner of his eye, noticed her clothes for the first time. While simple and cheap in their cut and style, the fabric was expensive and looked very similar to the kind his mother had always purchased for the servants and slaves of the household...
He frowned as the girl spoke up, addressing him by a name he hadn't given her and frowning at him as if in assessment of his features.
He couldn't blame the girl for wondering if he was in fact "Lord Vangelis" given his state of decay. His clothes were ragged, his hair was unkempt and hanging in awkward clumps where it had been miscut over the years. His nineteen years had now adorned him with an almost permanent stubble and shadow over his jaw - which he had been severely lacking at fifteen - and in general he was approximately twice the size and height he had been as a scrawny teenager.
He had left the Kirakles islands a small and lean prince of the realm. He had returned a big, rough and dishevelled looking warrior. Not that Vangelis could ever see his new-found aesthetics in such an attractive light.
When the girl insisted and queried in the same voice that he had returned, Vangelis was surprised to find the use of the word "returned". It suggested that the girl had known him before he had left and he narrowed his gaze on her in turn. From his prior assessment, he had worked out that she must be approximately eight years old... which put her at four when he had first left to fight abroad. But then there was something about that hair he recognised...
"You're the girl who follows my sister around." He said, almost to himself.
So, she wasn't a trespasser - or an interloper. She was just an over-eager slave of his household.
"Regardless, you still shouldn't be trying to ride a horse - especially not a war horse - alone, when you have no idea how." He told her, ignoring her assertions of both his name and his return to his home. He wasn't going to confirm his identity to a serving girl when his answers to her would likely prove his name and title. Especially if she caught sight of his house ring and signet on his hand.
Noticing the girl's eager look at the horse and her endearing comment about wanting to go "whoosh!" Vangelis felt something stir in him that hadn't in over four years. Having grown up with four younger siblings, Vangelis as used to playing the role of paternal brother and his more sensitive and caring side had not come out to play for many a year...
As if on queue, a second horse - Belladonna - popped her head over her stock door and seemed to wave at him with her nose. The pony was far more the right temperament and size for a young girl to be learning to ride on...
Rolling his eyes and sighing to himself, mentally postponing the bath and sleep he so desperately needed, Vangelis took hold of Windrunner's reins and led him back into his stable. Once secured and removed his tack, Vangelis then transferred the headgear to the smaller horse.
Belladonna was a beautiful mare that his mother favoured and was an elegant creature. Several hands shorted than Windrunner and built on smaller lines, the white and grey of her hide and the dark black of her eyes were both soft and comforting to new riders. She also had a docile and forgiving temperament.
Taking up the correct saddle and silently fitting the horse properly, Vangelis fastened the gear firmly without any need to keep the mare calm. She stood there, perfectly willing to be utilised for a lesson.
When he was done, Vangelis turned to the young girl who still stood nervously in the middle of the paddock.
"Come on..." He said, with a gesture towards the creature. "If teaching you is the only way I can be assured that you aren't going to harm my horses or break your neck, then come on..."
Vangelis stood still, holding Windrunner stationary as the little girl stumbled over herself to apologise, to insist that she had never meant any harm and to vehemently promise that she would never do it again - a promise that Vangelis didn't believe for a second. A child eager enough to attempt to ride a horse way too big for them, when no-one else was around, was brave enough to break a promise without much thought.
Not a man of many words at the best of times, Vangelis continued to stroke Windrunner's mane and nose, keeping him calm soft against his leading hand. The horse seemed to recognise him as it nuzzled his snout into Vangelis' neck and chest and gave his hair a good sniff.
Yeah... I know I don't look like much anymore my old friend... The prince thought, patting the horse's neck. But at least you recognise me, huh?
It was as he was thinking this that the young trespasser got to her feet and Vangelis, from the corner of his eye, noticed her clothes for the first time. While simple and cheap in their cut and style, the fabric was expensive and looked very similar to the kind his mother had always purchased for the servants and slaves of the household...
He frowned as the girl spoke up, addressing him by a name he hadn't given her and frowning at him as if in assessment of his features.
He couldn't blame the girl for wondering if he was in fact "Lord Vangelis" given his state of decay. His clothes were ragged, his hair was unkempt and hanging in awkward clumps where it had been miscut over the years. His nineteen years had now adorned him with an almost permanent stubble and shadow over his jaw - which he had been severely lacking at fifteen - and in general he was approximately twice the size and height he had been as a scrawny teenager.
He had left the Kirakles islands a small and lean prince of the realm. He had returned a big, rough and dishevelled looking warrior. Not that Vangelis could ever see his new-found aesthetics in such an attractive light.
When the girl insisted and queried in the same voice that he had returned, Vangelis was surprised to find the use of the word "returned". It suggested that the girl had known him before he had left and he narrowed his gaze on her in turn. From his prior assessment, he had worked out that she must be approximately eight years old... which put her at four when he had first left to fight abroad. But then there was something about that hair he recognised...
"You're the girl who follows my sister around." He said, almost to himself.
So, she wasn't a trespasser - or an interloper. She was just an over-eager slave of his household.
"Regardless, you still shouldn't be trying to ride a horse - especially not a war horse - alone, when you have no idea how." He told her, ignoring her assertions of both his name and his return to his home. He wasn't going to confirm his identity to a serving girl when his answers to her would likely prove his name and title. Especially if she caught sight of his house ring and signet on his hand.
Noticing the girl's eager look at the horse and her endearing comment about wanting to go "whoosh!" Vangelis felt something stir in him that hadn't in over four years. Having grown up with four younger siblings, Vangelis as used to playing the role of paternal brother and his more sensitive and caring side had not come out to play for many a year...
As if on queue, a second horse - Belladonna - popped her head over her stock door and seemed to wave at him with her nose. The pony was far more the right temperament and size for a young girl to be learning to ride on...
Rolling his eyes and sighing to himself, mentally postponing the bath and sleep he so desperately needed, Vangelis took hold of Windrunner's reins and led him back into his stable. Once secured and removed his tack, Vangelis then transferred the headgear to the smaller horse.
Belladonna was a beautiful mare that his mother favoured and was an elegant creature. Several hands shorted than Windrunner and built on smaller lines, the white and grey of her hide and the dark black of her eyes were both soft and comforting to new riders. She also had a docile and forgiving temperament.
Taking up the correct saddle and silently fitting the horse properly, Vangelis fastened the gear firmly without any need to keep the mare calm. She stood there, perfectly willing to be utilised for a lesson.
When he was done, Vangelis turned to the young girl who still stood nervously in the middle of the paddock.
"Come on..." He said, with a gesture towards the creature. "If teaching you is the only way I can be assured that you aren't going to harm my horses or break your neck, then come on..."
Since her parents’ passing, many things had changed. Her living situation had been the most prominent one, as most everything else that was altered by their deaths resulted from the switch. With her essential adoption into the family, Euphemia was often allowed to let her manners slip. It was the first of many things that led to a change of overall behavior- Such as thinking she was capable of riding a warhorse sans aid from anyone.
It seemed that such did not change Vangelis’ ability to remember her. “Mhm!” she informed him, her mood perking some. Athanasia always put a smile on her face. Best friends, one girl was rarely ever seen without the other, except in situations were her lacking status separated them. As assumed, the girl did not need verbal confirmation to put one and two together. The man standing before her was indeed Vangelis, from his extreme bodily changes to the way in which the horse interacted with him.
Instead of an affirmation, she was given a stern talking to. The girl once more lowered her chin to be looking down at her feet as he did such, fingers lacing behind her back and sandals prodding at the ground below. “I-I know, M'Lord, and I’ve learned that now. I promise.” A sigh escaped her. Sure, she liked causing trouble, but the getting caught part was never fun.
Both of the figures standing in the open paddlock's heads swiveled to look as another horse appeared. Euphemia noticed the ways in which the animal was different from the one standing she had attempted to ride. In her mind, she pondered over the possibilities of what could have happened if instead of Windrunner, she had tried to ride the one that had just appeared.
With her smaller frame, Euphemia would’ve easily been able to not only saddle her, but be able to properly mount her- Or so she liked to believe. Once she’d be on the horse, it’d be easy. The reins would fit just perfectly into her hands, and with a strong woman on her, the horse would remain calm. She’d be prancing about on it in no time! Such was childish naivety and lack of understanding at its finest.
When she flicked her head, the small girl giggled. The movement was rather friendly, after all, and she was in need of a mood lifting after getting scolded. “It looks like she said hello!” she commented, still giggling a bit. The smaller horse was much more what Euphemia imagined riding horses to be, at least for those like her she had seen: Regal and elegant.
Once more, Vangelis returned to the stables, leaving Euphemia by her lonesome. Fear mixing with curiosity, the girl watched in anticipation, uncertain just what he would do. Would he report her to one of the other Kotas family members for discipline? Or take it upon himself? The more she thought about it, the more nervous she became. Just as she was mulling over her options of running for it or not, the man’s voice boomed towards her.
This time, however, it was soft- Well, softer.
A wide beam stretched across her face. “You will? Lord Vangelis, thank you! Oh thank you so, so, so much.” Within a matter of seconds, she was at his side, practically vibrating in place. All signs of her previous nerves disappeared, and instead were replaced with pure eagerness.
In her excitement, the girl made sure to take in the way in which the saddle was now securely fastened around the horse. No longer was the stomach of the animal at her eye level, as the pony was much smaller in comparison. Such meant she had to bend a little to see it. Reaching out, the small blonde pulled at the contraption as if to test it. When this time it did not fall, her jaw loosened slightly. “Wow,” she uttered, then looked back up at the crowned prince. “Will you teach me how to do that as well, Lord Vangelis? I don’t want to hurt the horses. I hope I did not hurt the other."
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May 18, 2019 17:56:03 GMT
Posted In Coming Home on May 18, 2019 17:56:03 GMT
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Since her parents’ passing, many things had changed. Her living situation had been the most prominent one, as most everything else that was altered by their deaths resulted from the switch. With her essential adoption into the family, Euphemia was often allowed to let her manners slip. It was the first of many things that led to a change of overall behavior- Such as thinking she was capable of riding a warhorse sans aid from anyone.
It seemed that such did not change Vangelis’ ability to remember her. “Mhm!” she informed him, her mood perking some. Athanasia always put a smile on her face. Best friends, one girl was rarely ever seen without the other, except in situations were her lacking status separated them. As assumed, the girl did not need verbal confirmation to put one and two together. The man standing before her was indeed Vangelis, from his extreme bodily changes to the way in which the horse interacted with him.
Instead of an affirmation, she was given a stern talking to. The girl once more lowered her chin to be looking down at her feet as he did such, fingers lacing behind her back and sandals prodding at the ground below. “I-I know, M'Lord, and I’ve learned that now. I promise.” A sigh escaped her. Sure, she liked causing trouble, but the getting caught part was never fun.
Both of the figures standing in the open paddlock's heads swiveled to look as another horse appeared. Euphemia noticed the ways in which the animal was different from the one standing she had attempted to ride. In her mind, she pondered over the possibilities of what could have happened if instead of Windrunner, she had tried to ride the one that had just appeared.
With her smaller frame, Euphemia would’ve easily been able to not only saddle her, but be able to properly mount her- Or so she liked to believe. Once she’d be on the horse, it’d be easy. The reins would fit just perfectly into her hands, and with a strong woman on her, the horse would remain calm. She’d be prancing about on it in no time! Such was childish naivety and lack of understanding at its finest.
When she flicked her head, the small girl giggled. The movement was rather friendly, after all, and she was in need of a mood lifting after getting scolded. “It looks like she said hello!” she commented, still giggling a bit. The smaller horse was much more what Euphemia imagined riding horses to be, at least for those like her she had seen: Regal and elegant.
Once more, Vangelis returned to the stables, leaving Euphemia by her lonesome. Fear mixing with curiosity, the girl watched in anticipation, uncertain just what he would do. Would he report her to one of the other Kotas family members for discipline? Or take it upon himself? The more she thought about it, the more nervous she became. Just as she was mulling over her options of running for it or not, the man’s voice boomed towards her.
This time, however, it was soft- Well, softer.
A wide beam stretched across her face. “You will? Lord Vangelis, thank you! Oh thank you so, so, so much.” Within a matter of seconds, she was at his side, practically vibrating in place. All signs of her previous nerves disappeared, and instead were replaced with pure eagerness.
In her excitement, the girl made sure to take in the way in which the saddle was now securely fastened around the horse. No longer was the stomach of the animal at her eye level, as the pony was much smaller in comparison. Such meant she had to bend a little to see it. Reaching out, the small blonde pulled at the contraption as if to test it. When this time it did not fall, her jaw loosened slightly. “Wow,” she uttered, then looked back up at the crowned prince. “Will you teach me how to do that as well, Lord Vangelis? I don’t want to hurt the horses. I hope I did not hurt the other."
Since her parents’ passing, many things had changed. Her living situation had been the most prominent one, as most everything else that was altered by their deaths resulted from the switch. With her essential adoption into the family, Euphemia was often allowed to let her manners slip. It was the first of many things that led to a change of overall behavior- Such as thinking she was capable of riding a warhorse sans aid from anyone.
It seemed that such did not change Vangelis’ ability to remember her. “Mhm!” she informed him, her mood perking some. Athanasia always put a smile on her face. Best friends, one girl was rarely ever seen without the other, except in situations were her lacking status separated them. As assumed, the girl did not need verbal confirmation to put one and two together. The man standing before her was indeed Vangelis, from his extreme bodily changes to the way in which the horse interacted with him.
Instead of an affirmation, she was given a stern talking to. The girl once more lowered her chin to be looking down at her feet as he did such, fingers lacing behind her back and sandals prodding at the ground below. “I-I know, M'Lord, and I’ve learned that now. I promise.” A sigh escaped her. Sure, she liked causing trouble, but the getting caught part was never fun.
Both of the figures standing in the open paddlock's heads swiveled to look as another horse appeared. Euphemia noticed the ways in which the animal was different from the one standing she had attempted to ride. In her mind, she pondered over the possibilities of what could have happened if instead of Windrunner, she had tried to ride the one that had just appeared.
With her smaller frame, Euphemia would’ve easily been able to not only saddle her, but be able to properly mount her- Or so she liked to believe. Once she’d be on the horse, it’d be easy. The reins would fit just perfectly into her hands, and with a strong woman on her, the horse would remain calm. She’d be prancing about on it in no time! Such was childish naivety and lack of understanding at its finest.
When she flicked her head, the small girl giggled. The movement was rather friendly, after all, and she was in need of a mood lifting after getting scolded. “It looks like she said hello!” she commented, still giggling a bit. The smaller horse was much more what Euphemia imagined riding horses to be, at least for those like her she had seen: Regal and elegant.
Once more, Vangelis returned to the stables, leaving Euphemia by her lonesome. Fear mixing with curiosity, the girl watched in anticipation, uncertain just what he would do. Would he report her to one of the other Kotas family members for discipline? Or take it upon himself? The more she thought about it, the more nervous she became. Just as she was mulling over her options of running for it or not, the man’s voice boomed towards her.
This time, however, it was soft- Well, softer.
A wide beam stretched across her face. “You will? Lord Vangelis, thank you! Oh thank you so, so, so much.” Within a matter of seconds, she was at his side, practically vibrating in place. All signs of her previous nerves disappeared, and instead were replaced with pure eagerness.
In her excitement, the girl made sure to take in the way in which the saddle was now securely fastened around the horse. No longer was the stomach of the animal at her eye level, as the pony was much smaller in comparison. Such meant she had to bend a little to see it. Reaching out, the small blonde pulled at the contraption as if to test it. When this time it did not fall, her jaw loosened slightly. “Wow,” she uttered, then looked back up at the crowned prince. “Will you teach me how to do that as well, Lord Vangelis? I don’t want to hurt the horses. I hope I did not hurt the other."
Vangelis watched, almost tempted to smile, as the girl showed such eagerness to learn. While impatience and ignorance irritated him, the crown prince was aware that everyone had to learn at some point - not all were born with a household of professional tutors to instruct them before they had the chance to make a mistake. The girl's change in attitude and apparently genuine care for the animals - even if she had been going about things all wrong - told him that he had made the right decision in offering to help her.
"The horse is fine. No harm was done." He confirmed for her, to quiet her fears. "But in all honesty," He began as he finished fastening the saddle. "You probably won't be able to tack a horse up yet. With the saddle, you have to have the upper body strength to pull against the barrel of the horse and ensure that it's tight. You won't hurt them - but you will if you have the saddle too loose. A loose saddle means that your body weight will shift about on their back, which means the animal will naturally try to counter it. They're more likely to put a foot wrong, stumble or injure their legs. So, you have to pull the cinch tight to stop that from happening. I was ten before I had the upper strength to do that... So, for now, you'll have to only ride when someone older is around." He gave her a stern look to inform her that he wasn't playing around... there was to be no private riding expeditions for her.
"Now," Vangelis continued, once the tack was all in place. "Once again, you need a certain upper body strength to pull yourself up onto the horse." Shooing the girl back a few steps, Vangelis took a hold of each side of the saddle - front and back - then jumped and hauled himself up onto the mare's back in one smooth motion, flinging his left leg over the back of the saddle as he went and settling himself astride the creature with ease.
"Mount." He said, before swinging his left leg back around the back and repeating his movement in reverse, to land smoothly on his feet. "Dismount."
"You're not going to be able to do that until you have a few more inches on that height of yours." Vangelis threaded his fingers together and held out his cupped hands. "So, until then, you'll need to have a stable boy do this-" He bent low and held out his cupped hands. "Put your foot in my hands and then push down to give yourself leverage to get into the saddle. Keep your hands where I had them and then swing your left leg up and around. Don't worry about your skirts - you would normally wear riding pants, and don't worry if it takes a couple of goes. It takes practice."
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May 18, 2019 17:56:24 GMT
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Vangelis watched, almost tempted to smile, as the girl showed such eagerness to learn. While impatience and ignorance irritated him, the crown prince was aware that everyone had to learn at some point - not all were born with a household of professional tutors to instruct them before they had the chance to make a mistake. The girl's change in attitude and apparently genuine care for the animals - even if she had been going about things all wrong - told him that he had made the right decision in offering to help her.
"The horse is fine. No harm was done." He confirmed for her, to quiet her fears. "But in all honesty," He began as he finished fastening the saddle. "You probably won't be able to tack a horse up yet. With the saddle, you have to have the upper body strength to pull against the barrel of the horse and ensure that it's tight. You won't hurt them - but you will if you have the saddle too loose. A loose saddle means that your body weight will shift about on their back, which means the animal will naturally try to counter it. They're more likely to put a foot wrong, stumble or injure their legs. So, you have to pull the cinch tight to stop that from happening. I was ten before I had the upper strength to do that... So, for now, you'll have to only ride when someone older is around." He gave her a stern look to inform her that he wasn't playing around... there was to be no private riding expeditions for her.
"Now," Vangelis continued, once the tack was all in place. "Once again, you need a certain upper body strength to pull yourself up onto the horse." Shooing the girl back a few steps, Vangelis took a hold of each side of the saddle - front and back - then jumped and hauled himself up onto the mare's back in one smooth motion, flinging his left leg over the back of the saddle as he went and settling himself astride the creature with ease.
"Mount." He said, before swinging his left leg back around the back and repeating his movement in reverse, to land smoothly on his feet. "Dismount."
"You're not going to be able to do that until you have a few more inches on that height of yours." Vangelis threaded his fingers together and held out his cupped hands. "So, until then, you'll need to have a stable boy do this-" He bent low and held out his cupped hands. "Put your foot in my hands and then push down to give yourself leverage to get into the saddle. Keep your hands where I had them and then swing your left leg up and around. Don't worry about your skirts - you would normally wear riding pants, and don't worry if it takes a couple of goes. It takes practice."
Vangelis watched, almost tempted to smile, as the girl showed such eagerness to learn. While impatience and ignorance irritated him, the crown prince was aware that everyone had to learn at some point - not all were born with a household of professional tutors to instruct them before they had the chance to make a mistake. The girl's change in attitude and apparently genuine care for the animals - even if she had been going about things all wrong - told him that he had made the right decision in offering to help her.
"The horse is fine. No harm was done." He confirmed for her, to quiet her fears. "But in all honesty," He began as he finished fastening the saddle. "You probably won't be able to tack a horse up yet. With the saddle, you have to have the upper body strength to pull against the barrel of the horse and ensure that it's tight. You won't hurt them - but you will if you have the saddle too loose. A loose saddle means that your body weight will shift about on their back, which means the animal will naturally try to counter it. They're more likely to put a foot wrong, stumble or injure their legs. So, you have to pull the cinch tight to stop that from happening. I was ten before I had the upper strength to do that... So, for now, you'll have to only ride when someone older is around." He gave her a stern look to inform her that he wasn't playing around... there was to be no private riding expeditions for her.
"Now," Vangelis continued, once the tack was all in place. "Once again, you need a certain upper body strength to pull yourself up onto the horse." Shooing the girl back a few steps, Vangelis took a hold of each side of the saddle - front and back - then jumped and hauled himself up onto the mare's back in one smooth motion, flinging his left leg over the back of the saddle as he went and settling himself astride the creature with ease.
"Mount." He said, before swinging his left leg back around the back and repeating his movement in reverse, to land smoothly on his feet. "Dismount."
"You're not going to be able to do that until you have a few more inches on that height of yours." Vangelis threaded his fingers together and held out his cupped hands. "So, until then, you'll need to have a stable boy do this-" He bent low and held out his cupped hands. "Put your foot in my hands and then push down to give yourself leverage to get into the saddle. Keep your hands where I had them and then swing your left leg up and around. Don't worry about your skirts - you would normally wear riding pants, and don't worry if it takes a couple of goes. It takes practice."
Instantly her fear was contested, and the girl with a desire to move past uncomfortable feelings such as anxiety and the thought of causing harm to another living thing allowed herself to be reassured. Instead, a pout developed on her lips when he informed her of the saddle’s weight, and her inability to hoist it up and onto any horse, no matter the height. However, the royal man had a rather backed up point, and so she puffed out her chest in determination. “Okay. But one day? One day I’ll be able to do it myself! I’m going to grow up and be big and strong- Like you, Lord Vangelis!” She laughed a little at the idea, but a smile stretched wide on rosy lips, bundling both of her rosy cheeks.
He continued by explaining the importance of a tight saddle. The girl made sure to focus in on what it was he was saying so that in the future, she wouldn’t hurt any other animals. “I’ll be sure to ask. Do you think they’ll allow me to? I’ve always wanted to ride a horse.” She looked dreamily at the animal, outstretching a hand to gently stroke its body. Its skin was warm under her fingertips, and the girl continued to admire the prized mare until the man beside her gestured her away. A pout appeared on the blonde’s lips again, but she did as she was told and took a few steps back, hay underneath her sandals crunching as she did so.
He might as well have gone soaring through the air. Up the man hopped, the climb seemingly fluid for him, as if he was born to do so. Her eyes grew a bit wide, and her smile returned. “Wow,” she exhaled, shaking her head, blonde strands flying. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to do that, even if I do get taller.” She was, after all, known for her clumsiness. Many a delicate item had been broken by the handmaiden attempting to handle it, but most seemed to be understanding.
Vangelis was as well, for he tailored his actions toward her. Bending so that they were equal in height, the man laced his fingers and offered her a secure place to put her foot so that she could do as he had just instructed and demonstrated. He spoke with firm but easily understood words, and the small servant nodded to show she comprehended. “Yessir,” she responded verbally, then placed her pale hands on either one of his sturdy, tanned shoulders. Her right foot left the ground to slip into the braced hands before she reached out to grab the saddle as he had. Once she had her balance and summed up all the strength and courage she had, Euphemia pressed her foot downwards and shot upwards in a similar manner as Vangelis. Except, she couldn’t get her leg up and over, unprepared for the height, and came tumbling back down.
An “oof” escaped her lips as she landed, a bit of dust gathering in the stable. Belladonna seemed unconcerned that she had failed to mount her, for she did not even so much as flinch. Raising her hands, she rubbed at her face before moving to stand and dust herself off, scrunching up her nose. “That hurt,” she mumbled, looking back up at the Kotas heir, rubbing her bottom, as it was what she had landed on the hardest.
After a second or two, she put on a determined look and moved to do it again. This time, she was a bit more prepared, and just narrowly made it up and over, breaching the height by less than a few centimeters. Once mounted, she grinned with delight and looked back down at her instructor, clearly filled with pride at her success on just the second try.
“What now, Lord Vangelis? Do I get to go whoosh! now?"
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May 18, 2019 17:56:50 GMT
Posted In Coming Home on May 18, 2019 17:56:50 GMT
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Instantly her fear was contested, and the girl with a desire to move past uncomfortable feelings such as anxiety and the thought of causing harm to another living thing allowed herself to be reassured. Instead, a pout developed on her lips when he informed her of the saddle’s weight, and her inability to hoist it up and onto any horse, no matter the height. However, the royal man had a rather backed up point, and so she puffed out her chest in determination. “Okay. But one day? One day I’ll be able to do it myself! I’m going to grow up and be big and strong- Like you, Lord Vangelis!” She laughed a little at the idea, but a smile stretched wide on rosy lips, bundling both of her rosy cheeks.
He continued by explaining the importance of a tight saddle. The girl made sure to focus in on what it was he was saying so that in the future, she wouldn’t hurt any other animals. “I’ll be sure to ask. Do you think they’ll allow me to? I’ve always wanted to ride a horse.” She looked dreamily at the animal, outstretching a hand to gently stroke its body. Its skin was warm under her fingertips, and the girl continued to admire the prized mare until the man beside her gestured her away. A pout appeared on the blonde’s lips again, but she did as she was told and took a few steps back, hay underneath her sandals crunching as she did so.
He might as well have gone soaring through the air. Up the man hopped, the climb seemingly fluid for him, as if he was born to do so. Her eyes grew a bit wide, and her smile returned. “Wow,” she exhaled, shaking her head, blonde strands flying. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to do that, even if I do get taller.” She was, after all, known for her clumsiness. Many a delicate item had been broken by the handmaiden attempting to handle it, but most seemed to be understanding.
Vangelis was as well, for he tailored his actions toward her. Bending so that they were equal in height, the man laced his fingers and offered her a secure place to put her foot so that she could do as he had just instructed and demonstrated. He spoke with firm but easily understood words, and the small servant nodded to show she comprehended. “Yessir,” she responded verbally, then placed her pale hands on either one of his sturdy, tanned shoulders. Her right foot left the ground to slip into the braced hands before she reached out to grab the saddle as he had. Once she had her balance and summed up all the strength and courage she had, Euphemia pressed her foot downwards and shot upwards in a similar manner as Vangelis. Except, she couldn’t get her leg up and over, unprepared for the height, and came tumbling back down.
An “oof” escaped her lips as she landed, a bit of dust gathering in the stable. Belladonna seemed unconcerned that she had failed to mount her, for she did not even so much as flinch. Raising her hands, she rubbed at her face before moving to stand and dust herself off, scrunching up her nose. “That hurt,” she mumbled, looking back up at the Kotas heir, rubbing her bottom, as it was what she had landed on the hardest.
After a second or two, she put on a determined look and moved to do it again. This time, she was a bit more prepared, and just narrowly made it up and over, breaching the height by less than a few centimeters. Once mounted, she grinned with delight and looked back down at her instructor, clearly filled with pride at her success on just the second try.
“What now, Lord Vangelis? Do I get to go whoosh! now?"
Instantly her fear was contested, and the girl with a desire to move past uncomfortable feelings such as anxiety and the thought of causing harm to another living thing allowed herself to be reassured. Instead, a pout developed on her lips when he informed her of the saddle’s weight, and her inability to hoist it up and onto any horse, no matter the height. However, the royal man had a rather backed up point, and so she puffed out her chest in determination. “Okay. But one day? One day I’ll be able to do it myself! I’m going to grow up and be big and strong- Like you, Lord Vangelis!” She laughed a little at the idea, but a smile stretched wide on rosy lips, bundling both of her rosy cheeks.
He continued by explaining the importance of a tight saddle. The girl made sure to focus in on what it was he was saying so that in the future, she wouldn’t hurt any other animals. “I’ll be sure to ask. Do you think they’ll allow me to? I’ve always wanted to ride a horse.” She looked dreamily at the animal, outstretching a hand to gently stroke its body. Its skin was warm under her fingertips, and the girl continued to admire the prized mare until the man beside her gestured her away. A pout appeared on the blonde’s lips again, but she did as she was told and took a few steps back, hay underneath her sandals crunching as she did so.
He might as well have gone soaring through the air. Up the man hopped, the climb seemingly fluid for him, as if he was born to do so. Her eyes grew a bit wide, and her smile returned. “Wow,” she exhaled, shaking her head, blonde strands flying. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to do that, even if I do get taller.” She was, after all, known for her clumsiness. Many a delicate item had been broken by the handmaiden attempting to handle it, but most seemed to be understanding.
Vangelis was as well, for he tailored his actions toward her. Bending so that they were equal in height, the man laced his fingers and offered her a secure place to put her foot so that she could do as he had just instructed and demonstrated. He spoke with firm but easily understood words, and the small servant nodded to show she comprehended. “Yessir,” she responded verbally, then placed her pale hands on either one of his sturdy, tanned shoulders. Her right foot left the ground to slip into the braced hands before she reached out to grab the saddle as he had. Once she had her balance and summed up all the strength and courage she had, Euphemia pressed her foot downwards and shot upwards in a similar manner as Vangelis. Except, she couldn’t get her leg up and over, unprepared for the height, and came tumbling back down.
An “oof” escaped her lips as she landed, a bit of dust gathering in the stable. Belladonna seemed unconcerned that she had failed to mount her, for she did not even so much as flinch. Raising her hands, she rubbed at her face before moving to stand and dust herself off, scrunching up her nose. “That hurt,” she mumbled, looking back up at the Kotas heir, rubbing her bottom, as it was what she had landed on the hardest.
After a second or two, she put on a determined look and moved to do it again. This time, she was a bit more prepared, and just narrowly made it up and over, breaching the height by less than a few centimeters. Once mounted, she grinned with delight and looked back down at her instructor, clearly filled with pride at her success on just the second try.
“What now, Lord Vangelis? Do I get to go whoosh! now?"
Vangelis couldn't help a small smile at the girl's eagerness to ride at significant speed. She was going to be very disappointed if she thought she was going to be able to gallop in a single lesson. Or, perhaps due to her size, she would feel like walking or trotting would be enough of a whoosh for her.
As the young girl bounced in her enthusiasm on top of the horse, Vangelis felt justified in his decision to bring out the mare for her to learn on. The creature was standing rock solid, not at all concerned by the small human sending her all kinds of signals from her back. Windrunner would never have been able to deal with her. The stallion needed a firm hand and steady rider to keep in on the straight and narrow. Belladonna was far more docile, despite being just as finely bred.
"Okay, hold on..." He told the young girl. "Just wait right there."
And with a hop, and a leap, Vangelis settled himself into the saddle, behind the young girl. Making sure her skirts were out of his way, despite them being pulled up high on her thin little legs, Vangelis let his arms fall naturally either side of the girl's thin frame.
"This is how you hold the reins." He told the girl, taking the strips of leather from her hands and holding the correctly; flipping the loop of the reins forward, holding the strap in his hand and hooking his little fingers back around the other side. He moved his hands this way and that for her to have a look at and then released one side of the reins. "You take the other side, and then you can have this one. Match my hand shape." He told her, feeling the warmth of her energy and the tick of her hair against his chest.
The mare shifted her footing slightly, but Vangelis kept her in check with a twitch of his hand.
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May 18, 2019 17:57:10 GMT
Posted In Coming Home on May 18, 2019 17:57:10 GMT
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Vangelis couldn't help a small smile at the girl's eagerness to ride at significant speed. She was going to be very disappointed if she thought she was going to be able to gallop in a single lesson. Or, perhaps due to her size, she would feel like walking or trotting would be enough of a whoosh for her.
As the young girl bounced in her enthusiasm on top of the horse, Vangelis felt justified in his decision to bring out the mare for her to learn on. The creature was standing rock solid, not at all concerned by the small human sending her all kinds of signals from her back. Windrunner would never have been able to deal with her. The stallion needed a firm hand and steady rider to keep in on the straight and narrow. Belladonna was far more docile, despite being just as finely bred.
"Okay, hold on..." He told the young girl. "Just wait right there."
And with a hop, and a leap, Vangelis settled himself into the saddle, behind the young girl. Making sure her skirts were out of his way, despite them being pulled up high on her thin little legs, Vangelis let his arms fall naturally either side of the girl's thin frame.
"This is how you hold the reins." He told the girl, taking the strips of leather from her hands and holding the correctly; flipping the loop of the reins forward, holding the strap in his hand and hooking his little fingers back around the other side. He moved his hands this way and that for her to have a look at and then released one side of the reins. "You take the other side, and then you can have this one. Match my hand shape." He told her, feeling the warmth of her energy and the tick of her hair against his chest.
The mare shifted her footing slightly, but Vangelis kept her in check with a twitch of his hand.
Vangelis couldn't help a small smile at the girl's eagerness to ride at significant speed. She was going to be very disappointed if she thought she was going to be able to gallop in a single lesson. Or, perhaps due to her size, she would feel like walking or trotting would be enough of a whoosh for her.
As the young girl bounced in her enthusiasm on top of the horse, Vangelis felt justified in his decision to bring out the mare for her to learn on. The creature was standing rock solid, not at all concerned by the small human sending her all kinds of signals from her back. Windrunner would never have been able to deal with her. The stallion needed a firm hand and steady rider to keep in on the straight and narrow. Belladonna was far more docile, despite being just as finely bred.
"Okay, hold on..." He told the young girl. "Just wait right there."
And with a hop, and a leap, Vangelis settled himself into the saddle, behind the young girl. Making sure her skirts were out of his way, despite them being pulled up high on her thin little legs, Vangelis let his arms fall naturally either side of the girl's thin frame.
"This is how you hold the reins." He told the girl, taking the strips of leather from her hands and holding the correctly; flipping the loop of the reins forward, holding the strap in his hand and hooking his little fingers back around the other side. He moved his hands this way and that for her to have a look at and then released one side of the reins. "You take the other side, and then you can have this one. Match my hand shape." He told her, feeling the warmth of her energy and the tick of her hair against his chest.
The mare shifted her footing slightly, but Vangelis kept her in check with a twitch of his hand.
As she did not possess a single idea about how to ride a horse, Euphemia did not know that her eager bouncing was sending multiple, mixed symbols to the horse below. She was simply unable to contain her excitement. Not only had she managed to climb up and onto the saddle in only two attempts, but the girl was finally on a horse. What she had yet to tell her instructor was that she hadn’t just daydreamed about riding one, but had been gifted by the gods a reoccurring pleasant dream in which she rode a beautiful white horse on a beach at sunrise.
Whenever she awoke from it, the blonde was always smiling. The only time she did not enjoy the experience was when it was cut off by another insisting she wake up, most often Athanasia.
The latter of her two questions went unanswered. The former was, however, by his movements. They were similar to what she had just done, as he mounted the horse, but his actions were much smoother than hers. Her linen chiton was adjusted so that he did not sit on it, and Euphemia aided in getting it situated. The fabric was not of highest quality, but the Kotas family ensured that she was given above the bare minimum. It was kind of them to do, and she often took advantage of it.
Once they were ready to go, his hands fell to both sides of her. Even though the man had been gone for half of her life, she remembered the thin, pale hands he used to have. Now, the knuckles were wider than almost two of her fingers pressed together, and the skin was tanned multiple shades darker. Euphemia imagined the texture of them would’ve been similar to that of the reins, rough and yet smooth at the same time. It was odd to her how something like one’s hand could change so much in such a small amount of time.
She didn’t have much time to dwell on her thoughts, however, as she needed to instead focus on her lesson. The reins she had imagined his hands felt like were taken from her small fingers. Watching, she nodded to show she understood the proper placement Vangelis demonstrated, his hands tilting this way and that so that she could see it from different angles. Then, one of his hands moved away from the leather, and Euphemia raised her hand to grasp the equipment as he had. Using both hands, she adjusted her grip and fingers one by one, until it looked similar to how he had his.
“Like this?” she asked, tilting her head up to him. Blonde hair rolled down her back, brushing slightly against him and over her shoulder as she looked up at the man behind her. Beneath the pair, the horse shifted a little, but the girl could not tell such with her inexperience. Once he made any adjustments he felt were needed, the girl looked out into the paddock and beamed.
“Let’s go!” she squealed in excitement, bouncing once more in the saddle.
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May 18, 2019 17:57:36 GMT
Posted In Coming Home on May 18, 2019 17:57:36 GMT
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As she did not possess a single idea about how to ride a horse, Euphemia did not know that her eager bouncing was sending multiple, mixed symbols to the horse below. She was simply unable to contain her excitement. Not only had she managed to climb up and onto the saddle in only two attempts, but the girl was finally on a horse. What she had yet to tell her instructor was that she hadn’t just daydreamed about riding one, but had been gifted by the gods a reoccurring pleasant dream in which she rode a beautiful white horse on a beach at sunrise.
Whenever she awoke from it, the blonde was always smiling. The only time she did not enjoy the experience was when it was cut off by another insisting she wake up, most often Athanasia.
The latter of her two questions went unanswered. The former was, however, by his movements. They were similar to what she had just done, as he mounted the horse, but his actions were much smoother than hers. Her linen chiton was adjusted so that he did not sit on it, and Euphemia aided in getting it situated. The fabric was not of highest quality, but the Kotas family ensured that she was given above the bare minimum. It was kind of them to do, and she often took advantage of it.
Once they were ready to go, his hands fell to both sides of her. Even though the man had been gone for half of her life, she remembered the thin, pale hands he used to have. Now, the knuckles were wider than almost two of her fingers pressed together, and the skin was tanned multiple shades darker. Euphemia imagined the texture of them would’ve been similar to that of the reins, rough and yet smooth at the same time. It was odd to her how something like one’s hand could change so much in such a small amount of time.
She didn’t have much time to dwell on her thoughts, however, as she needed to instead focus on her lesson. The reins she had imagined his hands felt like were taken from her small fingers. Watching, she nodded to show she understood the proper placement Vangelis demonstrated, his hands tilting this way and that so that she could see it from different angles. Then, one of his hands moved away from the leather, and Euphemia raised her hand to grasp the equipment as he had. Using both hands, she adjusted her grip and fingers one by one, until it looked similar to how he had his.
“Like this?” she asked, tilting her head up to him. Blonde hair rolled down her back, brushing slightly against him and over her shoulder as she looked up at the man behind her. Beneath the pair, the horse shifted a little, but the girl could not tell such with her inexperience. Once he made any adjustments he felt were needed, the girl looked out into the paddock and beamed.
“Let’s go!” she squealed in excitement, bouncing once more in the saddle.
As she did not possess a single idea about how to ride a horse, Euphemia did not know that her eager bouncing was sending multiple, mixed symbols to the horse below. She was simply unable to contain her excitement. Not only had she managed to climb up and onto the saddle in only two attempts, but the girl was finally on a horse. What she had yet to tell her instructor was that she hadn’t just daydreamed about riding one, but had been gifted by the gods a reoccurring pleasant dream in which she rode a beautiful white horse on a beach at sunrise.
Whenever she awoke from it, the blonde was always smiling. The only time she did not enjoy the experience was when it was cut off by another insisting she wake up, most often Athanasia.
The latter of her two questions went unanswered. The former was, however, by his movements. They were similar to what she had just done, as he mounted the horse, but his actions were much smoother than hers. Her linen chiton was adjusted so that he did not sit on it, and Euphemia aided in getting it situated. The fabric was not of highest quality, but the Kotas family ensured that she was given above the bare minimum. It was kind of them to do, and she often took advantage of it.
Once they were ready to go, his hands fell to both sides of her. Even though the man had been gone for half of her life, she remembered the thin, pale hands he used to have. Now, the knuckles were wider than almost two of her fingers pressed together, and the skin was tanned multiple shades darker. Euphemia imagined the texture of them would’ve been similar to that of the reins, rough and yet smooth at the same time. It was odd to her how something like one’s hand could change so much in such a small amount of time.
She didn’t have much time to dwell on her thoughts, however, as she needed to instead focus on her lesson. The reins she had imagined his hands felt like were taken from her small fingers. Watching, she nodded to show she understood the proper placement Vangelis demonstrated, his hands tilting this way and that so that she could see it from different angles. Then, one of his hands moved away from the leather, and Euphemia raised her hand to grasp the equipment as he had. Using both hands, she adjusted her grip and fingers one by one, until it looked similar to how he had his.
“Like this?” she asked, tilting her head up to him. Blonde hair rolled down her back, brushing slightly against him and over her shoulder as she looked up at the man behind her. Beneath the pair, the horse shifted a little, but the girl could not tell such with her inexperience. Once he made any adjustments he felt were needed, the girl looked out into the paddock and beamed.
“Let’s go!” she squealed in excitement, bouncing once more in the saddle.
Vangelis nodded at the girl's careful ministration over the reins, clearly determined to get the placement of them around her fingers just so. Vangelis had no issue with teaching people things but he did have a problem when he wasn't listened to. This little one, however, was listening just fine and after a few corrections that she made herself upon measuring his and her hand together, she had the position correct. He then let go of the reins on the other side and allowed her to mimic her own hand with the other.
It took a few minutes by the horse was patient and Vangelis was unhurried. He was actually finding it quite nice to focus on something without a deadline hovering over his head. There was no regime to be made, no protocol to follow, no battle to enact... and he wasn't supposed to be home and meeting his family until tomorrow so it made little difference if he spent a few extra minutes in the paddock.
The simplicity of having time to himself to do with as he pleased - even something as innocuous as helping a little girl learn to right a horse - was actually quite pleasant.
As the girl looked around to ask if she had her hands right, her long, curly hair brushed his chest and his breath ghosted over her cheek as he moved to be able to look at her. He simply nodded.
"That's right, well done."
When she insisted on immediately setting out, as soon as his validation of her hand positions had been confirmed he smiled a little and felt a chuckle rise in his chest that he didn't allow to come to fruition. He cleared his throat.
"Okay, hold on little one." Forgetting that, as this was a term he often used for children, it was what he had called her years passed. "Here's how it works..."
He tapped the top of her right thigh with his finger tip.
"You use your legs to control the horse - not your hands." He told her. "Don't move the reins or swing them. Just nudge your lower legs - your calves and your heels - into the side of the horse - on both sides. She'll move. Just give her a small and gentle kick."
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May 18, 2019 18:10:15 GMT
Posted In Coming Home on May 18, 2019 18:10:15 GMT
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Vangelis nodded at the girl's careful ministration over the reins, clearly determined to get the placement of them around her fingers just so. Vangelis had no issue with teaching people things but he did have a problem when he wasn't listened to. This little one, however, was listening just fine and after a few corrections that she made herself upon measuring his and her hand together, she had the position correct. He then let go of the reins on the other side and allowed her to mimic her own hand with the other.
It took a few minutes by the horse was patient and Vangelis was unhurried. He was actually finding it quite nice to focus on something without a deadline hovering over his head. There was no regime to be made, no protocol to follow, no battle to enact... and he wasn't supposed to be home and meeting his family until tomorrow so it made little difference if he spent a few extra minutes in the paddock.
The simplicity of having time to himself to do with as he pleased - even something as innocuous as helping a little girl learn to right a horse - was actually quite pleasant.
As the girl looked around to ask if she had her hands right, her long, curly hair brushed his chest and his breath ghosted over her cheek as he moved to be able to look at her. He simply nodded.
"That's right, well done."
When she insisted on immediately setting out, as soon as his validation of her hand positions had been confirmed he smiled a little and felt a chuckle rise in his chest that he didn't allow to come to fruition. He cleared his throat.
"Okay, hold on little one." Forgetting that, as this was a term he often used for children, it was what he had called her years passed. "Here's how it works..."
He tapped the top of her right thigh with his finger tip.
"You use your legs to control the horse - not your hands." He told her. "Don't move the reins or swing them. Just nudge your lower legs - your calves and your heels - into the side of the horse - on both sides. She'll move. Just give her a small and gentle kick."
Vangelis nodded at the girl's careful ministration over the reins, clearly determined to get the placement of them around her fingers just so. Vangelis had no issue with teaching people things but he did have a problem when he wasn't listened to. This little one, however, was listening just fine and after a few corrections that she made herself upon measuring his and her hand together, she had the position correct. He then let go of the reins on the other side and allowed her to mimic her own hand with the other.
It took a few minutes by the horse was patient and Vangelis was unhurried. He was actually finding it quite nice to focus on something without a deadline hovering over his head. There was no regime to be made, no protocol to follow, no battle to enact... and he wasn't supposed to be home and meeting his family until tomorrow so it made little difference if he spent a few extra minutes in the paddock.
The simplicity of having time to himself to do with as he pleased - even something as innocuous as helping a little girl learn to right a horse - was actually quite pleasant.
As the girl looked around to ask if she had her hands right, her long, curly hair brushed his chest and his breath ghosted over her cheek as he moved to be able to look at her. He simply nodded.
"That's right, well done."
When she insisted on immediately setting out, as soon as his validation of her hand positions had been confirmed he smiled a little and felt a chuckle rise in his chest that he didn't allow to come to fruition. He cleared his throat.
"Okay, hold on little one." Forgetting that, as this was a term he often used for children, it was what he had called her years passed. "Here's how it works..."
He tapped the top of her right thigh with his finger tip.
"You use your legs to control the horse - not your hands." He told her. "Don't move the reins or swing them. Just nudge your lower legs - your calves and your heels - into the side of the horse - on both sides. She'll move. Just give her a small and gentle kick."
Even if the years had passed and the man had gone off to war, something that eight year old Euphemia had no concept of other than that it made people tough, Vangelis hadn’t changed in the slightest, not in her young eyes. When she looked up and behind her to allow her bright gaze to take in his face, she saw the warm smile and the gentleness in his eyes that had been there years ago. He was warm, both to the touch and in words, and she was happy to be at his side.
The next step of her lesson was in teaching the horse how to go- Or at least, that was what the young blonde was taking from the situation. Little did she know that telling the horse to go meant having to control her any further. “Okay!” she chirped at his instructions, facing forward once more. With a determined look on her face, the girl lined everything up. She held the reins perfectly still, slowly brought both of her legs away from the horse’s torso so that she could administer the kick, sucked in a deep breath, and then kicked.
Belladonna didn’t move little more than a sway.
Pouting, Euphemia’s lips pursed and her brows knitted together just above the soft line of her button nose’s origins. Her kick had been so weak, the horse had not registered it. Repeating her process, the girl simply tweaked the power behind her kick. This time, the horse slowly moseyed into movement. Shrieking in joy, Euphemia bounced in the saddle. “Yes! It’s whoosh! time!”
The horse walked out into the paddock, slowly gaining a bit of speed. Euphemia was content going as fast as she was because with no prior experience on horseback, the speed at which they moved was assumed to be as fast as the gallops she had seen men and women alike riding at.
Her smile was wide. It would be clear to any passerby that she was extremely joyful to be on the horse. “Thank you, Lord Vangelis.” Her tone was loud, as if she had to speak over the wind generated by how fast the horse was going. “I have missed you very, very much. Don’t ever leave again! I want to go whoosh! all of the time!” Of course she had missed Vangelis for a longer list of reasons than riding horses with him. At such a young age, however, there was really no way for her to express all of them. Instead, she picked the one that, in the moment, excited her the most.
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May 18, 2019 18:10:38 GMT
Posted In Coming Home on May 18, 2019 18:10:38 GMT
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Even if the years had passed and the man had gone off to war, something that eight year old Euphemia had no concept of other than that it made people tough, Vangelis hadn’t changed in the slightest, not in her young eyes. When she looked up and behind her to allow her bright gaze to take in his face, she saw the warm smile and the gentleness in his eyes that had been there years ago. He was warm, both to the touch and in words, and she was happy to be at his side.
The next step of her lesson was in teaching the horse how to go- Or at least, that was what the young blonde was taking from the situation. Little did she know that telling the horse to go meant having to control her any further. “Okay!” she chirped at his instructions, facing forward once more. With a determined look on her face, the girl lined everything up. She held the reins perfectly still, slowly brought both of her legs away from the horse’s torso so that she could administer the kick, sucked in a deep breath, and then kicked.
Belladonna didn’t move little more than a sway.
Pouting, Euphemia’s lips pursed and her brows knitted together just above the soft line of her button nose’s origins. Her kick had been so weak, the horse had not registered it. Repeating her process, the girl simply tweaked the power behind her kick. This time, the horse slowly moseyed into movement. Shrieking in joy, Euphemia bounced in the saddle. “Yes! It’s whoosh! time!”
The horse walked out into the paddock, slowly gaining a bit of speed. Euphemia was content going as fast as she was because with no prior experience on horseback, the speed at which they moved was assumed to be as fast as the gallops she had seen men and women alike riding at.
Her smile was wide. It would be clear to any passerby that she was extremely joyful to be on the horse. “Thank you, Lord Vangelis.” Her tone was loud, as if she had to speak over the wind generated by how fast the horse was going. “I have missed you very, very much. Don’t ever leave again! I want to go whoosh! all of the time!” Of course she had missed Vangelis for a longer list of reasons than riding horses with him. At such a young age, however, there was really no way for her to express all of them. Instead, she picked the one that, in the moment, excited her the most.
Even if the years had passed and the man had gone off to war, something that eight year old Euphemia had no concept of other than that it made people tough, Vangelis hadn’t changed in the slightest, not in her young eyes. When she looked up and behind her to allow her bright gaze to take in his face, she saw the warm smile and the gentleness in his eyes that had been there years ago. He was warm, both to the touch and in words, and she was happy to be at his side.
The next step of her lesson was in teaching the horse how to go- Or at least, that was what the young blonde was taking from the situation. Little did she know that telling the horse to go meant having to control her any further. “Okay!” she chirped at his instructions, facing forward once more. With a determined look on her face, the girl lined everything up. She held the reins perfectly still, slowly brought both of her legs away from the horse’s torso so that she could administer the kick, sucked in a deep breath, and then kicked.
Belladonna didn’t move little more than a sway.
Pouting, Euphemia’s lips pursed and her brows knitted together just above the soft line of her button nose’s origins. Her kick had been so weak, the horse had not registered it. Repeating her process, the girl simply tweaked the power behind her kick. This time, the horse slowly moseyed into movement. Shrieking in joy, Euphemia bounced in the saddle. “Yes! It’s whoosh! time!”
The horse walked out into the paddock, slowly gaining a bit of speed. Euphemia was content going as fast as she was because with no prior experience on horseback, the speed at which they moved was assumed to be as fast as the gallops she had seen men and women alike riding at.
Her smile was wide. It would be clear to any passerby that she was extremely joyful to be on the horse. “Thank you, Lord Vangelis.” Her tone was loud, as if she had to speak over the wind generated by how fast the horse was going. “I have missed you very, very much. Don’t ever leave again! I want to go whoosh! all of the time!” Of course she had missed Vangelis for a longer list of reasons than riding horses with him. At such a young age, however, there was really no way for her to express all of them. Instead, she picked the one that, in the moment, excited her the most.
When the young girl failed to get the horse moving on her first attempt, Vangelis said nothing but allowed her to try again. As a teacher - though his military rank of Captain gave him little opportunity to act in such a role - Vangelis preferred the approach of letting someone learn by their own mistakes and seek to correct them themselves. It was all very well being told the answer you needed... but the ability to seek and find one for yourself was an invaluable skill.
Euphemia worked out quickly that it was the power of her kick that was at fault and readjusted, finally making the mare step forward. The girl was immediately euphoric, bouncing around on top of the horse that they had managed to get moving, despite the fact that, as Belladonna found her pace, they were only inching forward at a fast walk. Had the girl known or realised that there were at least three faster speeds she could make the horse move at she might not have been so excited by the simple prospect of walking her, so Vangelis stayed quiet on the subject.
As Belladonna more less walked herself around the paddock, Vangelis reached around the young girl to position his hands over hers.
"Now..." He told the girl. "When you want the horse to turn, you don't pull on the reins." He told her firmly. This was a mistake a lot of young or new riders made and it could damage the horse's mouth and head to be yanked left and right. "Instead, you press one leg into their side. If you want them to turn right, just press the length of your right leg into their side - don't kick her, just press, like you're squeezing your legs together but only on the one side." He then moved her hands to demonstrate. "You then lead her with the reins a little in order to encourage her to turn the right way."
As they walked steadily around the big square paddock, a turn was coming up that Belladonna would probably turn to avoid anyway, but it was good practice for Euphie to know at least how to make the creature go where she wanted it to...
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May 18, 2019 18:10:55 GMT
Posted In Coming Home on May 18, 2019 18:10:55 GMT
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When the young girl failed to get the horse moving on her first attempt, Vangelis said nothing but allowed her to try again. As a teacher - though his military rank of Captain gave him little opportunity to act in such a role - Vangelis preferred the approach of letting someone learn by their own mistakes and seek to correct them themselves. It was all very well being told the answer you needed... but the ability to seek and find one for yourself was an invaluable skill.
Euphemia worked out quickly that it was the power of her kick that was at fault and readjusted, finally making the mare step forward. The girl was immediately euphoric, bouncing around on top of the horse that they had managed to get moving, despite the fact that, as Belladonna found her pace, they were only inching forward at a fast walk. Had the girl known or realised that there were at least three faster speeds she could make the horse move at she might not have been so excited by the simple prospect of walking her, so Vangelis stayed quiet on the subject.
As Belladonna more less walked herself around the paddock, Vangelis reached around the young girl to position his hands over hers.
"Now..." He told the girl. "When you want the horse to turn, you don't pull on the reins." He told her firmly. This was a mistake a lot of young or new riders made and it could damage the horse's mouth and head to be yanked left and right. "Instead, you press one leg into their side. If you want them to turn right, just press the length of your right leg into their side - don't kick her, just press, like you're squeezing your legs together but only on the one side." He then moved her hands to demonstrate. "You then lead her with the reins a little in order to encourage her to turn the right way."
As they walked steadily around the big square paddock, a turn was coming up that Belladonna would probably turn to avoid anyway, but it was good practice for Euphie to know at least how to make the creature go where she wanted it to...
When the young girl failed to get the horse moving on her first attempt, Vangelis said nothing but allowed her to try again. As a teacher - though his military rank of Captain gave him little opportunity to act in such a role - Vangelis preferred the approach of letting someone learn by their own mistakes and seek to correct them themselves. It was all very well being told the answer you needed... but the ability to seek and find one for yourself was an invaluable skill.
Euphemia worked out quickly that it was the power of her kick that was at fault and readjusted, finally making the mare step forward. The girl was immediately euphoric, bouncing around on top of the horse that they had managed to get moving, despite the fact that, as Belladonna found her pace, they were only inching forward at a fast walk. Had the girl known or realised that there were at least three faster speeds she could make the horse move at she might not have been so excited by the simple prospect of walking her, so Vangelis stayed quiet on the subject.
As Belladonna more less walked herself around the paddock, Vangelis reached around the young girl to position his hands over hers.
"Now..." He told the girl. "When you want the horse to turn, you don't pull on the reins." He told her firmly. This was a mistake a lot of young or new riders made and it could damage the horse's mouth and head to be yanked left and right. "Instead, you press one leg into their side. If you want them to turn right, just press the length of your right leg into their side - don't kick her, just press, like you're squeezing your legs together but only on the one side." He then moved her hands to demonstrate. "You then lead her with the reins a little in order to encourage her to turn the right way."
As they walked steadily around the big square paddock, a turn was coming up that Belladonna would probably turn to avoid anyway, but it was good practice for Euphie to know at least how to make the creature go where she wanted it to...
Vangelis’ hands once more appeared in her vision, this time cupping hers. Her earlier pondering had been correct; the skin was indeed rough from war, but there was a gentleness to them that she couldn’t ignore. The touch prompted her to look up at him, and his instructions followed shortly after. Euphemia was not to pull on the reins. Such an order was surprising to the young girl. Whenever she had seen riders mounted on horses, their grips seemed to intensify whenever maneuvering the animal to turn. In her eyes, it had been understood as pulling the reins to get such a result.
When Euphemia turned back around, she noticed that the paddock was curved, rendering a need for a turn. Such need placed pressure upon her actions, and even though the horse and the man behind her were both well trained, in her mind, she had to get this right. After all, turning was quite the necessary step in horseback riding. Very rarely was one’s path ever straight. Not even the paddock, the first thing horse and rider came into contact with, was.
Sucking in a deep breath, the young girl moved to press her leg into the side of Belladonna. Her calf pressed into her, but to do so only on one side, she had to lean significantly to the right, so much so she nearly lost her balance. A pull on the reins came to steady herself so that she would not fall off of the animal, but it was a tug that sent the horse’s head to the left instead of the right as her leg as directed. Belladonna, however, seemed to aware of her lacking abilities on horseback, for even with mixed signals, she headed the way the young blonde had directed her.
Biting down on her lip once she was settled back in the saddle, she looked over her shoulder at Vangelis. “Uh, at least she turned?” she offered up, shoulders a bit scrunched. It was clear her actions had caused some embarrassment, for all things considered she failed to be successful, but the girl tried to not dwell on what she had failed to do. Always one for the positives, she offered up the comment so as to remain such. "I, well, almost fell. Guess I'll have to work a little more on keeping my balance."
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May 18, 2019 18:11:18 GMT
Posted In Coming Home on May 18, 2019 18:11:18 GMT
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Vangelis’ hands once more appeared in her vision, this time cupping hers. Her earlier pondering had been correct; the skin was indeed rough from war, but there was a gentleness to them that she couldn’t ignore. The touch prompted her to look up at him, and his instructions followed shortly after. Euphemia was not to pull on the reins. Such an order was surprising to the young girl. Whenever she had seen riders mounted on horses, their grips seemed to intensify whenever maneuvering the animal to turn. In her eyes, it had been understood as pulling the reins to get such a result.
When Euphemia turned back around, she noticed that the paddock was curved, rendering a need for a turn. Such need placed pressure upon her actions, and even though the horse and the man behind her were both well trained, in her mind, she had to get this right. After all, turning was quite the necessary step in horseback riding. Very rarely was one’s path ever straight. Not even the paddock, the first thing horse and rider came into contact with, was.
Sucking in a deep breath, the young girl moved to press her leg into the side of Belladonna. Her calf pressed into her, but to do so only on one side, she had to lean significantly to the right, so much so she nearly lost her balance. A pull on the reins came to steady herself so that she would not fall off of the animal, but it was a tug that sent the horse’s head to the left instead of the right as her leg as directed. Belladonna, however, seemed to aware of her lacking abilities on horseback, for even with mixed signals, she headed the way the young blonde had directed her.
Biting down on her lip once she was settled back in the saddle, she looked over her shoulder at Vangelis. “Uh, at least she turned?” she offered up, shoulders a bit scrunched. It was clear her actions had caused some embarrassment, for all things considered she failed to be successful, but the girl tried to not dwell on what she had failed to do. Always one for the positives, she offered up the comment so as to remain such. "I, well, almost fell. Guess I'll have to work a little more on keeping my balance."
Vangelis’ hands once more appeared in her vision, this time cupping hers. Her earlier pondering had been correct; the skin was indeed rough from war, but there was a gentleness to them that she couldn’t ignore. The touch prompted her to look up at him, and his instructions followed shortly after. Euphemia was not to pull on the reins. Such an order was surprising to the young girl. Whenever she had seen riders mounted on horses, their grips seemed to intensify whenever maneuvering the animal to turn. In her eyes, it had been understood as pulling the reins to get such a result.
When Euphemia turned back around, she noticed that the paddock was curved, rendering a need for a turn. Such need placed pressure upon her actions, and even though the horse and the man behind her were both well trained, in her mind, she had to get this right. After all, turning was quite the necessary step in horseback riding. Very rarely was one’s path ever straight. Not even the paddock, the first thing horse and rider came into contact with, was.
Sucking in a deep breath, the young girl moved to press her leg into the side of Belladonna. Her calf pressed into her, but to do so only on one side, she had to lean significantly to the right, so much so she nearly lost her balance. A pull on the reins came to steady herself so that she would not fall off of the animal, but it was a tug that sent the horse’s head to the left instead of the right as her leg as directed. Belladonna, however, seemed to aware of her lacking abilities on horseback, for even with mixed signals, she headed the way the young blonde had directed her.
Biting down on her lip once she was settled back in the saddle, she looked over her shoulder at Vangelis. “Uh, at least she turned?” she offered up, shoulders a bit scrunched. It was clear her actions had caused some embarrassment, for all things considered she failed to be successful, but the girl tried to not dwell on what she had failed to do. Always one for the positives, she offered up the comment so as to remain such. "I, well, almost fell. Guess I'll have to work a little more on keeping my balance."
Vangelis smiled, a chuckle low in his chest.
"I think she may have turned more to avoid the wall than because you told her to." He told Euphemia, not wanting to burst her bubble but also aware that she sort of already knew she hadn't quite gotten that technique down.
"The balance will come." He told her. "That's just about strengthening your legs and getting used to being on horseback."
As the horse made a turn in the paddock, and was now heading back the way they had come, Vangelis allowed Belladonna to just keep walking, exiting the paddock under her own steam and then stopping in the middle of the courtyard. The creature was so used to how things worked that she barely needed any instructions. She was a good creature to learn on as accidents would never really happen - the animal would just take over as and when the rider floundered.
"I think that is probably enough of a lesson for today..." He told the young girl.
Swinging his leg back over the horse's rear and dropping down the ground, he was thankful to see that the shift in weight didn't phase Belladonna a bit.
"Now, to get down, you just reverse what you did before. Let go of the reigns, lean forward in the saddle, and swing your leg back over towards me." He told her. "It is easier to get down than to get up, but be prepared - it always feels like a bigger drop than you think it is..."
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May 18, 2019 18:11:40 GMT
Posted In Coming Home on May 18, 2019 18:11:40 GMT
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Vangelis smiled, a chuckle low in his chest.
"I think she may have turned more to avoid the wall than because you told her to." He told Euphemia, not wanting to burst her bubble but also aware that she sort of already knew she hadn't quite gotten that technique down.
"The balance will come." He told her. "That's just about strengthening your legs and getting used to being on horseback."
As the horse made a turn in the paddock, and was now heading back the way they had come, Vangelis allowed Belladonna to just keep walking, exiting the paddock under her own steam and then stopping in the middle of the courtyard. The creature was so used to how things worked that she barely needed any instructions. She was a good creature to learn on as accidents would never really happen - the animal would just take over as and when the rider floundered.
"I think that is probably enough of a lesson for today..." He told the young girl.
Swinging his leg back over the horse's rear and dropping down the ground, he was thankful to see that the shift in weight didn't phase Belladonna a bit.
"Now, to get down, you just reverse what you did before. Let go of the reigns, lean forward in the saddle, and swing your leg back over towards me." He told her. "It is easier to get down than to get up, but be prepared - it always feels like a bigger drop than you think it is..."
Vangelis smiled, a chuckle low in his chest.
"I think she may have turned more to avoid the wall than because you told her to." He told Euphemia, not wanting to burst her bubble but also aware that she sort of already knew she hadn't quite gotten that technique down.
"The balance will come." He told her. "That's just about strengthening your legs and getting used to being on horseback."
As the horse made a turn in the paddock, and was now heading back the way they had come, Vangelis allowed Belladonna to just keep walking, exiting the paddock under her own steam and then stopping in the middle of the courtyard. The creature was so used to how things worked that she barely needed any instructions. She was a good creature to learn on as accidents would never really happen - the animal would just take over as and when the rider floundered.
"I think that is probably enough of a lesson for today..." He told the young girl.
Swinging his leg back over the horse's rear and dropping down the ground, he was thankful to see that the shift in weight didn't phase Belladonna a bit.
"Now, to get down, you just reverse what you did before. Let go of the reigns, lean forward in the saddle, and swing your leg back over towards me." He told her. "It is easier to get down than to get up, but be prepared - it always feels like a bigger drop than you think it is..."
