shipmaster | (no subject)

[This is a decidedly disgruntled sound. One of his square hands waves through the air, dismissing the sentiment entirely.]

... I'll trade you a day's rest for two of yours.

....

You hardly fight fair.

[By which he means, yes.]

[ Miles smiles genuinely at that. For the first time since he came in the room. ]

If I fought fair, I wouldn't be here right now.

[He snorts. The smile was in his eyes, if not his expression.]

That's the truth.

...

Go on, ahead. But I'm holding you to that.

The same to you.

[ If he doesn't decide to escape after all. Miles slowly gets up, then, and turns to head for the door. ]

[The turned back did give him enough of a guard to settle back. Damn too-small heart... it was clearly the reason why the sight of Miles walking out the door made him so tired.]

[ Clearly. Miles' back recedes into the hallway, and then disappears entirely. Next - and last - is the stables.

He heads out into the fresh air after a moment's pause, soaking in a much-needed burst of warmth. It hadn't gone as bad as he'd thought, but he still feels terribly strung out all the same. Later he's going to have a headache, he's sure of it ... A flick of his wristcomm brings up Bel's line. ]

I'm all done. Meet me at the stables when you're ready.

[Even with the harsh winter chill, the stables kept their own warmth, between the large beasts inside, and the insulating hay. The sweet smell of hay mixed with the strong aroma of horse. Around Miles, a few barn cats watched from their loft and rafter perches.

Bel isn't long after.]

How did it go?

[ That smell more than anything makes Miles relax. He's leaning against a stall when Bel enters, his eyes half closed. ]

Better than I thought.

... You look better, actually.

Yeah? I hope so. You might have been right about places, at least.

[ And who had Aral recommended? Fat Ninny? He slowly heads down in that direction. ]

[The heavy roan gelding had only gotten heavier with age and arthritis. He stomps forward eagerly at the sight of Miles, lipping at his jacket hopefully for the sugar cube or rare, delightful apple treat.]

Good lord, that thing is huge...

[ Miles has neither, alas, but he abruptly wishes he did. He ... he remembers this horse. He'd spent so many wonderful hours taking him out, going into the countryside, nearly losing him... The feeling goes through him like electric shock. ]

I wouldn't have anything less. A pony would be too small.

[ He reaches up to gently caress the horse's nose. ]

[Ninny snorts and presses up against the stall door to get closer. The horse ducks his head to nudge Miles gently.]

Of course. No issues behind that at all. [The tone is teasing, but fond. They are still not going too close to the massive beast.]

[ Good. Good. Miles leans his head against Fat Ninny for a moment, just taking in the smell of the old horse. ]

Shh. Help me saddle him up. Or - or get Roic to. I don't know if I remember how.

[ But he's giddy anyway, because feels closer to it than he has in a while. ]

[Bel looks blankly at the tack on the walls, and the saddles, blankets, leads and oils stored on the far wall and back to Miles.

Not the first damn clue here... but Bel DID know that look on Miles' face. It's as close as pure kinetic force can be expressed on a human's features.]

Be right back.

[Roic, waiting dutifully just inside the barn doors had been oh so not quite listening in anyway. The armsman nods to the two of them, fetching down the lead to bring Ninny out to where he could be saddled properly.]

[ Miles, meanwhile, fetches what he does remember. It's more than he was expecting. And with Roic's deadpan prompting, he manages to get Fat Ninny prepared. He carefully settles himself atop the horse's back and grins down at Bel. ]

Join me?

[They warily eye the creature. Placidly, Fat Ninny stares back.]

Pass!

Your loss. Come on, Ninny.

[ He nudges the horse into a nice sedate walk. Which is swiftly going to turn into as tearing a canter as the old horse can manage. ]

[The horse actually doesn't take long. Obedient in general, Ninny perks up at his favorite rider far faster than he does with any of the stablehands minding Piotr's old stock.

The old roan shakes his mane wildly and canters on up the trail.... Passing a heavy old maple that curls heavily down over the trail, where Ivan and Miles tried to set up a slingshot made of the native gumroot (Miles was allergic, they found), over the pass where one summer, gallantly leading Elena, a branch MIles was too short to mind and so routine he no longer saw hit the other girl smack in the face.

By the old well that lead into the underground bunker... now dusted with snow and triple reinforced after they had peeled off the old wood and climbed down to explore... and get lost for nearly two days in...]

[ The horse knows him. He's sure of it. And while people might lie and his family might welcome him regardless of what he actually is ... Fat Ninny couldn't possibly be deceived.

That's the key right there. The thing that make him see the maple, remember that horrific rash he'd gotten. The bunker they'd gotten lost in. He really did live here, didn't he? More than that, he grew up here. So Cordelia and Aral must be his parents. And from here everything finally begins to slot into place. A sort of cascade of its own, not of memory but rather of the structure behind them.

His hands go slack on the reins. As glorious as this breakthrough is, it's giving him a familiar headache. ]

Edited (homophonic) 2016-11-17 03:30 (UTC)

[Ninny slows at that, confusion taking his stride down to a trot... then a leisurely walk, the old horse lifting his head with the unusual slack lead to angle a look back. ]

[ Smart horse. Beloved horse ... Miles' hands are trembling as he turns the animal back towards the stables, hoping Fat Ninny will automatically head back once directed to do so. He should probably call Bel on his wristcomm, but he'd rather not alarm the herm unnecessarily. That was basically a mini-cascade. Of course he feels strange... ]

[If there is nothing else that all of Piotr's horses were trained to do, it was to return to the stables (and food, in Fat Ninny's case). Of course, with the long downhill this way, the gelding picks up a fair trot as he goes.

Back at the stables, both Roic and Bel have braved the outdoors again, despite the chill. A certain natural worry for how much trouble a Vorkosigan can get into in this amount of time unspoken between them.]