PSL- In which there are horses and, just barely, time enough.

[gavesugar]

The Wisemen are in consultation - where, Sheila knows not, but while they consult Ash has little to do but sit around and bask in his victory.

And she'll be damned if he's going to bask with Arthur's serving wenches.

It's her idea that they go riding, somewhere close enough to the castle that they shouldn't bump into any straggling but well-armed skeletons and far enough away that they may enjoy each other in privacy.

She is the envy of some, the baleful regret of others, as she combs the mane of her mare and waits for him to find her in the stables. He is something of a late riser, but she knows he will arrive.

Late or no.

Comments

[thisismyboomstick]

Well... he's managing to not kill himself, at least. It's a good thing the horse knows what he's doing.

"C'mon, ya little..."

Orion pays him no mind.

[gavesugar]

Not dead, in Sheila's opinion, is the most important thing at this point.

She may or may not be giggling smugly to herself as they enter a large, flower-speckled meadow filled with sweet-smelling tall grass. Spring has just begun to come to life about them; the trees are budded but barren in the distant thicket. She slows Gwen to a trot once more.

[thisismyboomstick]

As they slow down - he remembers not to yank on the reins too hard for once - he reaches forward and pats the horse on the neck.

"Thanks for not leavin' me in the dirt, big guy."

[gavesugar]

The horse's nickering turns Sheila's hidden smile into a full-blown grin.

"La, ye shall soon be fast friends."

Pulling free a great length of cloth from her saddlepack, she tucks it over Gwen's saddle and starts gathering togethertheir brunch.

[thisismyboomstick]

"I wouldn't go that far..."

He manages to dismount without too much fuss, giving Orion another pat on the nose for his trouble.

"Whatcha got?"

[gavesugar]

She clicks her tongue. "La, do not judge him so harshly. Mayhaps in time...first impressions art oft not correct ones."

Well, he should know.

"Cheese," she says, handing him the cloth when he approaches. "and sausage, and a number of ginger cakes. I hath a cask of wine as well." They'll have to use their hands - sorry Ash, knives and plates haven't been invented yet.

[thisismyboomstick]

It's not that he dislikes the horse, at least not anymore. It's just that... well, he's probably not going to be here long enough to form any kind of friendship with the beast.

"Sounds good."

Please, he'd use his hands even if they did have utensils.

[gavesugar]

She remembers him eating that turkey leg with enthusiasm, in any event. "Lay out the blanket," she suggests, boosting herself up to her tiptoes to peck hi cheek, "I shall follow with the repast."

[thisismyboomstick]

"You got it."

Somehow, he still manages to blush when she plants one on him. God knows why, after everything that's happened to them.

He gets the blanket down, spreading it over the nearest available patch of even ground.

[gavesugar]

The blush is sort of endearing - she didn't even know a man who could ask her chin for sugar could discover embaressment.

She follows along quickly, handing along the wine, the cheese, the meat, the sweets, until she's able to post the horses and lead them to a nearby stream. Then she comes to join Ash.

Sheila may be sitting a tad closer than necessary.

[thisismyboomstick]

It's not the sugar-giving that flusters him, it's the OMG what are feelings part.

He's not about to complain about her crowding him.

"What's on your mind?"

[gavesugar]

Feelings? She thought he was clear about them in the bally, and before the entire castle.

But then he couldn't stop hugging her or kissing her. So now the feelings are muddled.

"Tis a fine day," she declares, which doesn't strike apon her true feelings at all.

[thisismyboomstick]

He's clear about them, but that doesn't mean he knows how to deal with them.

"Yeah. Yeah, it is."

Oh hey, small talk!

[gavesugar]

She breaks up the cheese with her fingertips. "Hath he asked thee?" she wonders, curling up, her arm tucked about her own waist.

[thisismyboomstick]

He's distracted for a moment as he digs into the food.

"Huh?"

Eloquent as always.

[gavesugar]

She frowns at him, shoves his shoulder lightly. "The Wiseman. Hath he told thee how ye might return to thy life?"

[thisismyboomstick]

"Oh." He wipes his mouth on his sleeve, forever classy. "No, I think he's got somethin' up his sleeve, but he hasn't told me about it yet."

[gavesugar]

Ugh, must thee, Ashley? "So ye do not know if ye shall leave by inches or by seconds?"

She's trying not to be upset, Ash. The vicious bite she took out of that sausage was out of hunger, she swears.

[thisismyboomstick]

"Not a thing. Though he said something about taking the long way."

... He's never felt sympathy pains for a sausage before.

[gavesugar]

She frowns. "There is so much that I wish'd that thou might lean, that I wish that thee might see in my kingdom."

Is she giving him battle flashbacks? Oh my.

[thisismyboomstick]

"I'm not leaving right away."

He can't stay forever, though at times like these it's hard to remember the reasons why.

[gavesugar]

"La," she says, between small bites of cheese and bread which could only be described as ladylike.

Sheila looks away at the idea. It's hard for her to clearly describe it all to him. It's as if her entire life had been scribbled in black and white, then suddenly burst into color when he arrived. Her life has been passive, a corset constructed to hold her in and still. She'd never known longing before the day she saw him - he'd unlocked her from her cage.

"But someday I must waken to a morning without thee."

And to the knowledge that he doesn't want her.

She gets it. It's over.

She releases the cheese, her fingers spreading out upon her extended knee, white and still.

[thisismyboomstick]

He sighs.

"It's not that I want to leave you..."

They've had this discussion before, it seems.

[gavesugar]

"Oh?"

She fixes him with this look. He probably remembers it well, because the last time he saw it she was throwing a rock at him.

"Is it not still'pillow talk'?

He doesn't 'belong there'. She can't forget that he said that - won't forget it - as much as it seems to weigh her to the earth every time she recalls it.

[thisismyboomstick]

Dammit.

"No... No, it's not."

And okay, maybe he's a little scared of what would happen if he stayed, but wouldn't anyone be?