in the saddle on the shoreside

POSTED: Mon Aug 05, 2013 6:33 pm

It was not uncommon for Wayne McCoy to ride his horses out into neutral territory for exercise, and he was doing so now—traveling from the edge of Casa di Cavalieri straight into the thin, rolling plains of Shattered Coast. Though inland the smells remained that of sunlight and grass, and the occasional prey-scent that wafted to his nose from his high seat, the farther south he traveled toward the coast the saltier the smells grew.

He followed the shoreline for a while, but kept Fern far away from the sharp stones that made up the beach, wary of her tripping and hurting herself. When, following one of the coves, he came up against the scent-buffer of another pack, he turned her back inland again. He was curious about whether Alder, the other stablemaster, still lived in Cour des Miracles—but turned his thoughts away from that as he gave Fern her head and let her gallop across the plains.
Last edited by Wayne McCoy on Sat Aug 17, 2013 4:45 pm, edited 1 time in total.

POSTED: Sat Aug 10, 2013 11:33 pm

((Sorry for such a wait and lack of Aoves being exciting >.>))

The dark lady had been bowed down, nestled among the taller grasses as she cut away at specific herbs and greenery to use to her benefit. She possessed a growing understanding of the flora, especially that of the southern regions, and was always eager to go out and further learn and collect. Black palms were caked in the lighter brown of soil, colored from where roots had been dug from where they were entrenched in the ground, scented by the bitter juices from broken stems that had leaked across her hands. The basket she used during collections was nearly empty, the book inside containing the names of herbs - borrowed months ago from the Court library and so enlightening that she'd failed to return it - nestled on a bed of wintry and emerald green stems. Her concentration in cutting the Labrador tea was broken by the sounds of distant thunder, no, hooves. Dark ears perked, and her head lifted from where it had been inclined down towards her task.

She rose, many tiered necklace of green rattling gently as she slid to stand and watch - at this point the rider had likely seen her upon the open fields as it was, and in truth, the dam was increasingly curious to the ways of equines and the art of riding them. Though they hadn't been thought of as more than useful food before, having children had taught her an appreciation for swift travel, as such modes could cut the hassle and time of travel in half. Aoves simply observed as the pair surged across the plain, admiring the artistry of figure and muscle, even from afar. If the rider angled her way she would wave - with little alternatives in the way of running, there was little more she could do beside that - but for the moment she was content to admire the flow of motion.

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POSTED: Sat Aug 17, 2013 5:04 pm

There was great power behind the long strides of the draft horse; she was more like a freight train, barreling down a path, than a smaller vehicle. Her turns were slow, but there was no real reason to duck around. The rider merely held on and let the mare run -- and she did, tossing her mane and eagerly leaping over a pile of stones in the midst of the field, crashing back down to earth and running again.

Wayne was more or less hanging on for the ride, but when he spotted a Luperci shape in the distance, he wheeled Fern around in that direction and asked her to slow down with a gentle word and pull of the reins. She fell into canter, then trot, and walked toward the shape growing ever closer in his field of vision. He raised a hand in response to the other's wave, his nose detecting the scent of the Court as well as that of plants; perhaps the other had been gathering them until he'd ridden by. He didn't know very much about herbs, himself, except for the most basic of poultices and remedies for the road, and whatever tasted good to his horses. Ears pricked, the chestnut mare erased the distance steadily until the man stood a polite few yards from the other.

"Howdy, ma'am," the wolfdog greeted, reaching up to give his hat a polite tip to the lady. "Havin' any luck?" He indicated the basket and favored her with a tiny smile, though his squared-off muzzle and scowling brow could only let him smile so much.

POSTED: Wed Aug 28, 2013 3:49 pm

As the rider approached, Aoves' stance became firm, the bend of her knees loose and posture flexible in case the situation proved wiser to run from. A conversational smile settled naturally upon slick dark lips as he slowed, the accent he uttered entirely unfamiliar to her - it was an intriguing difference to the lady, as she was familiar with so many from her previous European home. He was handsome, and going hand in hand with that fact in a manner that just as easily drew her he, he appeared to be a full blooded dog - one of the few she'd seen, though male as with all the rest. Aoves was beginning to wonder if female's of the variety even existed given her infrequency of coming across them. A closer glance at the beast he rode gave her a better sense of it's beauty; a lover of both aesthetics and functionality, the sinews of the steed still shuddering with power from the charge truly alerted her to their appeal. She was rarely so close to a horse, but for the first time was tempted to reach out and touch it. Aoves held herself back.

The Courtier's interest was hidden behind soft smile and cool words, her pale gaze roaming across the large duo as her lips parted to reply. "Bonjour Monsieur, and alas, I must admit that it could be better." Gently across her waist was the basket pressed, as she shifted, it's woven rim slanted low and revealed the scarce content's within. Her head briefly dipped in kind, eyes still lingering curiously upon the duo, even with the inclination. "My name is Aoves, Friefau de la Cour des Miracles. Per'aps I would 'ave 'ad better luck if I could 'ave traveled about, farther; 'aving such a creature must come as a great 'elp in such situations." She spoke her name in rank hoping for one in kind, with the addition of a purl of laughter that sang briefly in her throat, warming the words at the mention of the horse. Aoves was curious as always about those that she didn't know, though unwilling to directly pry.

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POSTED: Sun Sep 01, 2013 12:37 pm

Foreign words fell fluidly from the woman’s tongue, but Wayne recognized them easily as French—a language he knew a few phrases in, thanks to his mother. He was, by no means, fluent in that tongue or even in his better-known Spanish, but he knew enough to get by, and he wagged his tail with pleasure at the greeting until she confessed that she was not, perhaps, doing as well as she’d hoped. He smiled sympathetically, nodding at the contents of her basket.

“Ah, yes,” the cowboy agreed, patting Fern on the neck even as the animal sniffed in the direction of the basket. “Can use my own legs easy, but helps for longer trips if you can take care of the horse proper, and definitely helps for carryin’ more than you can. More ’n anythin’, I think it’s fun.” He winked.

And then he proceeded to dismount the horse, bowing to the female as befell a gentleman. “I’m Wayne McCoy, stablemaster of Casa di Cavalieri, and Member of its brotherhood.” He smiled as he straightened, and curled his fingers in the chestnut mare’s flaxen mane. “And this sweet lady is Fern.”

POSTED: Fri Sep 06, 2013 3:57 pm

It seemed to be a curious horse, perhaps even friendly enough to touch, though Aoves knew better than to try. It was only recently that she'd begun to think of them as anything more than useful, albeit magnificent and abundant, food, given the fact that she was far more likely to rely on her own two feet. With his explanation though, her headed nodded slowly in subtle agreement, yes, she could see some of their use now beyond decorative sustenance. The wink took her by surprise, the lady's smile briefly flashing brighter before returning to the more subdued curve of her lip's corner.

Though his name and title didn't ring familiar, the pack certainly did - Aoves still hadn't forgotten the debt she felt she owed to Nyla, or the involvement of the name Sebastian in Harvey's life, even if there was no way to know whether or not either canines even remained. She would be patient, as always, and likely bring up other matters later, once her curiosity regarding horses had been satisfied. Her hands were dirt, but she was no less aware of her appearance, a light flick of her head would settle the majority of her inky tresses at her back, and her dark palms could continue to freely hold the basket to her lest the horse become a bit too curious.

"Well then, Monsieur McCoy, it is a pleasure then to meet you and the lovely Fern." Aoves' head tilted briefly in curiosity, the gesture a lead in for her steps to follow in a brief series taking her to the creatures side, sashaying to it's flanks in curiosity, a subconscious urge to circle what her instincts told her was still prey. Her gaze was sharp, but not hungry - the female was merely curious about a beast she'd never had the chance to encounter so closely. "Might I ask 'ow you came by 'er? I know that in my 'ome back across the sea some canines kept and raised them like the creatures that preceded us. Is this true of you also, or do you come by them by chance alone?"

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POSTED: Sun Sep 15, 2013 11:19 am

Wayne McCoy

Her smile changed briefly at his wink, and Wayne might have teased her further had the strong scent of her mate not made up most of her own personal aroma. He could still play the polite southern gentleman, however. As bitter as he'd become since Dixie-May, he still treated the fairer sex with the respect deserved to them -- even if some ulterior motives might linger when faced with an especially pretty face.

The Labrador mongrel would think himself honorable, however. Casa di Cavalieri was founded on the ideals of honor, and now he genuinely sought some way to help this gentlewoman out, even something as simple as answering her questions. Every good deed, no matter how small, reflected on the pack. It was the right thing to do, and they might need their friends in the future, if things grew dark.

He wanted to laugh at "Monsieur McCoy" but only grinned at her, his posture relaxed as she came closer. The draft mare, too, was relaxed, only watching the other with dark brown eyes -- and perhaps sniffing the basket again, as well. Fingers curling tighter in her pale mane made her turn and lip at Wayne's hair instead, her attention corrected.

"That's true for a lot of us," Wayne agreed, "though perhaps not Fern in particular." He shrugged lightly. "If I had my other horse, Gypsy, I could say she was born into my family -- they were ranchers, down in the southern States. And we're lookin' to breed more for Casa, too; I'm hoping Fern took to her last mating. But she," he said, and turned to scratch the horse along her jaw, "wandered upon my friend and I a long time ago, by chance."

seems like a long time since i spun you to this borrowed radio

Coding by Kitty; image by Moyan Brenn

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