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Myrika is by Bobbi!
The russet woman laughed at the man's words, but the scarred woman merely gave him a perplexed look, apparently not knowing what the word meant. Myrika was too used to the crusty ancient's ways to bother supplying the definition of the word "majordomo" for her; in all likelihood, it would earn her only a scowl, and if she was particularly unlucky, a smack to the arm.
Again, Myrika moved to answer her Aquila's inquiry, and again, her grandmother cut in. Of course. Myrika has a few bags, and I have one, the old woman said, grumpily. She hadn't wanted to bring anything, but Myrika had firmly insisted upon ample provisions. For her part, the russet woman brought enough salted meat to last them several days. In all likelihood, it would be too much, but Myrika was not prepared to take that chance when the old woman was with them. Inferni could afford to lose her; it could not afford to lose Ezekiel or Kaena.
Myrika smiled again at Ezekiel, and ducked inside the house to retrieve their things. She pulled them put and settled them next to Kaena, murmuring something about going to nab Eira from the rear of the mansion before she disappeared again through the doorway. I don't mind riding. Hurts my ass after a while, but what doesn't hurt my ass these days? Sitting, standing, riding a horse, sitting on my head, the old woman said, giving a casual shrug. Arthritis was a daily part of Kaena's life these days, it seemed. It was a wonder she could move at all with her myriad of scars criss-crossing her face.
A moment later, the blue roan loped around the corner of the mansion, Myrika on her back. Eira seemed pleased, and tossed her head this way and that as the russet Consul pulled her reins to signal a stop and dismounted quickly. The mare sidled up to Viggo, ignoring the other mare completely, and nickered at him softly. Myrika moved to grab their things and get them settled onto Eira's back without a word of prompt from either of her elders.
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