houseofcards_rp | [ota] stretching out

Technically speaking, Zoe hasn't been given the all-clear for riding. But her ribs were only bruised, not cracked, and even the bruises on her face have faded into almost nothing by now. Zoe's pretty sure she's fine, but even so, she's taking it slow, just at a walk with Sirona.

Sirona's not overly happy about that, admittedly.

She's near Town herself when she runs into Julien, heading back towards the stables and then, perhaps, hot cider or something before she tries slipping back in the Castle. Chives is still hovering.

Zoe raises her eyebrows as the horses huff at each other, and then turns to look at Julien, her expression bland. "Energy to burn off?"

"He hasn't been out much, lately." The young man who'd typically acted as Padraig's groom and exercise rider when Julien didn't make it out had been called back tot he Outpost at the behest of his family. Julien hadn't yet found a replacement that suited him.

"Attempting to rejoin the invalid list?" he asks with a raised eyebrow.

"We didn't go faster than a walk," Zoe said, and shrugged. "I've had worse riding accidents and been back on horseback before now." It was, she thought, the circumstances that had people coddling her more than the actual injuries. She couldn't blame them; it wasn't like she was the type to get into fights in alleys.

Or, she'd thought before, the type to have to fend attacks off. But no one was safe.

"Mmm, but Sirona doesn't look particularly pleased about walking," which was really what he was getting at, if the rather opinionated mare decided to take matters into her own hooves. "But I'm sure you can convince her a stroll is best," he offers up a short grin.

"Well, unless she wants to tolerate another rider," which hasn't happened yet, but every day's a new day. "Or wants to deal with Chives, she'll have to be satisfied."

"I should like to see Chives scolding her."

It's quite an entertaining mental image, okay.

"But I don't expect Sirona would appreciate that much, either."

"It'd be an interesting sight." Zoe bites her lip a little to hold in a laugh, shaking her head. Though if anyone could successfully cow her mare, she expects Chives might be the man for the job.

"Tess tells me that one of these days she might mellow, but I'm not holding my breath."

"He'd likely be brandishing a butter knife." Just to continue the amusing mental image.

"...I suppose it doesn't matter so very much, since you understand how she works." As opposed to someone else who might have a harder time.

"Or a wooden spoon." If this kept up, she was going to lose it.

She leaned down to pat Sirona's neck instead. "She was a seventeenth birthday present," she tells Julien. Christabel, her first horse and only one before Sirona, had been from her papa, when she'd been eleven. "I've weathered a lot of injuries with her in the last couple of years." But she'd won more than one challenge with her too, so Zoe thought that Sirona was keeping up her end of the deal nicely.

"Someone once said there's a certain number of times you have to fall off before you can be considered a real rider."

Which sounds like literal horseshit to him, but he's still had his fair share of falls.

"That sounds like bullshit." It would be almost amusing, how close their thoughts were running. "You have to fall sometimes, I think, but not everything boils down to numbers."

Which might seem to be an odd thing for an accountant to say.

"You're riding a prey animal with a mind of its own that can move incredibly fast when it puts its mind to it and weighs around a thousand pounds." There's that hint of a smile again. "It would be even more amazing if you never fell off."

The first few months when he was still new to the Deck and learning to ride are not to be spoken of. Ever.

Zoe's smile is more of a quicksilver flash, not as exuberant as it once was, but with a certain knowing expression. "I don't think I stayed on my first pony for more than twenty minutes at a time for a good month. And even after that..."

Well, Itchy had seen a lot of her. For bumps and scratches and broken bones. She'd never seriously trained in sparring until she was an adult, but she'd had almost as many injuries as Hadyn had.

"Better a pony than a seventeen hand beast with a bad attitude." Not the horse he's riding now but the Spade stablemaster at the time and apparently believed strongly in the school of hard knocks.

Well, most Spade teachers seemed to go that route. Julien included.

The Hearts were usually - but not always - ones for the gentler sorts of training methods. And it probably also had helped that Zoe had been an eight year old girl instead of a seventeen year old boy.

Then again, maybe she would have been tossed up on a seventeen hand gelding with a temper if she'd been born a Spade.

She glances at Padraig, though, who on the temper scale seems to be considerably more evenhanded than, say, Sirona. And Evander was the same, she recalled from riding with Eileen. "You seem to have upgraded."

"Mmmm, been working my way up, I suppose you might say."

Evander had actually been the first horse he'd chosen for himself once he'd been given the opportunity. He'd only had Padraig for the last couple of years or so now.

"We seem to suit each other well enough." It was a rather workmanlike relationship. He made sure the horse was impeccably trained, and the horse did as he asked of it. Based on Julien's reputation, some might have expected him to treat the animal harshly, but Julien had never seen much use in abusing his tools.

Julien didn't strike her as the type who loved his horse. To him, it was just a horse, which is where they differed. Sirona had been her second best friend for several years now, especially once she and Hadyn began to be...less close.

The natural consequence of growing up, she supposed, and she looked a bit pensive for a moment, lost in thoughts enough for Sirona to test her hold.

"Mm," she said as she pulled the horse's head back up and looks around the town again. "You seem to. Do you wonder why everything got quiet again?" She doesn't think she needs to elaborate; the tension that had been roaring through Town just a week ago seems hidden behind it's sleepy facade again.

Julien glances back in the direction of Town, raises one shoulder slightly. "It's a false quiet, I believe. Perhaps the holidays have temporarily pushed it to the side. Perhaps one side or the other ...or both... is planning something spectacular." He certainly hoped not. "But I highly doubt it's over."

"That's what I thought, too." It's one of those times when being right doesn't please her at all. There's still a tension, even through the holiday planning and revelry; there's a guardedness at every party she's been to so far, and it's early in the season yet. And then, of course, she can't miss what she sees. Victor's conversations with both Ben and Elisha have been quiet and near tense lately.

There were always skirmishes between Outsiders and Deckborns, she thinks, but usually only near the Outposts. Rarely does it make its way to Town.

"Some people think that it's heading towards civil war," she says out loud. "Do you think so?"

"I don't think it need go that far."

If the right measures were implemented. Though some might consider the right measures to be harsher than others.

Those harsh measures could just as easily make the situation worse - or just refocus it - but Zoe's knowledge of the workings of politics and war was and always be skewed towards the theoretical.

It doesn't even really occur her to think about the measures necessary, not right now, and she shrugs a little. "It's gone further than it ever has before, that I know of."

"Then perhaps those involved won't care to step over the line."

Look how well he refrained from saying that if it was really going to go further, they'd have to assassinate a couple of Royals.

"As long as the rest of us do our part to discourage infractions. From both parties."

She's not a fool. She knows that if they've escalated to attacking people - like her, like Tess, like Leigh - then murder will be next.

And since the root of this seems to be the Outsiders that are Faces, it seems logical that it would be someone like Elisha or Katya who was attacked. She doubts either would be successful. Elisha used to train Hadyn. She's seen what he can do, and she knows her Queen's reputation.

She slants a look at Julien, raising an eyebrow. "Well, I'm certainly not encouraging them," she says dryly. "I'd like to walk in Town without worrying so much about whether someone might be waiting in an alley."

"Yes," he says, slanting a look back over at her and her fading bruises. "I imagine you would. Are you looking for an escort back to the castle then?"

Though probably Sirona is escort enough.

There's a flash of irritation in her eyes - a flash that only shows when her husband's mandated bodyguard is too difficult to shake. "I don't think it's necessary," she said blandly. "I imagine that someone's waiting at the stables."

Hasse, possibly, or maybe Victor instead. He'd kept closer since that night.

Victor's own geld was in the field, and though he didn't typically wander to the stables without the intention of riding- he wasn't there get in a ride. Instead he was merely waiting patiently. Perhaps for Zoe, or perhaps for Julien himself.

"A fine day for a ride, it seems."

"Clear and not too windy," he agrees as he dismounts and looks curiously at Victor before he hands the reins to one of the grooms he's got on a temporary basis.

"I saw your bride...she's riding a bit more sedately, however. You may be waiting some time."

"My wife has a strong will about her," Victor said with a bit of a shrug. Zoe would be fine, on her ride, but she could hardly blame him for the worry now could she?

"Seen any trouble of late?"

"Seen? No," he shakes his head, "though I think there are plenty who would prefer to stay out of my line of sight on such matters."

"I imagine it's the same for you, is it not?" Then again, Victor had all of the security cameras.

Cameras only saw what occurred in the Castle, not along the paths or streets of town. It was better, he thought, to network with people instead.

"They seem to have become less bold." He said, smirking just a little as he looked back out to the pasture. "Eventually that will change."

"IT can't help but to. They've experienced what they're able to get away with, after all. Perhaps they think they've seen a weakness."

Because it was a very few people who'd actually felt any real sort of backlash or punishment for the previous weeks.

With all the hurt and tragedy, everyone had quite neglected poor Clooney, Lotty's gelding. Sophie had received a text from Mel suggesting someone exercise the chestnut before he got up to any more trouble in the barn.

She stopped halfway through her text asking Mel to take care of it and changed into her riding kit instead. It would be nice to escape the confines of the castle and all the worried looks and gossipy whispers that trailed behind her wherever she went.

If only Clooney wasn't such a fluff brain, she thought, as she urged him forward to sniff the terrifying branch monster lying across the trail.

She hears approaching hoofbeats and looks up. Leave it to the fluff brain to act up in front of witnesses. She takes a firmer grip on the reins and nods greeting to the newcomer.

"Mil--Julien." They might be the same rank, but she wished she knew his surname. She doesn't know the man well enough to address by his first name, and calling him by his Rank seemed rude.

Calling him by his rank in a situation such as this would indeed be a way to get his back up and have him chill toward her. The use of his given name doesn't seem to affect him, however. "Good afternoon, Miss Berthier."

Though it might seem odd for him to call her by her surname when she doesn't know his. But it's likely one could count on one hand the number of people Julien is on a first name basis with.

The barest hint of amusement flitted across her eyes. "Sophie, please. We've exchanged blows. Surely that puts us on first name basis." Emily Post, she thought, was woefully lacking when it came to sparring etiquette. "Yes, Clooney. See? It's a branch. It's not going to eat you." The chestnut snorted and stretched his trembling neck closer to the monster.

"My sister's horse," she explained. "Perfect in the ring, not so perfect on the trail. But I never have enjoyed arena work." She studied Julien from under lowered lashes. The idea hadn't solidified in her head yet, but perhaps he could help her there. She need time before broaching the subject. "It appears we're headed in the same direction. Perhaps we could ride together?" And perhaps she could decide if she truly wanted to do this.

He nods slightly, in deference to her wish, "Sophie, then."

For the record, Padraig may be giving Clooney the most superior look a horse can muster.

Julien, for his part, is ignoring the horses' interaction with the branch, "we may ride, if you like. Do you not have another horse for trails?"

Padraig has nothing on the look she was giving her gelding. Sophie sat tight through Clooney's stiff-legged skittishness. Finally satisfied, the chestnut blew one final, disinterested snort and began to lip the undergrowth.

"I, ah, no longer have a personal mount. Clooney's been cooped up since...since before my sister died. He needs a blow. You can't do that properly surrounded by fences." You couldn't run.

She squeezed her legs and Clooney hopped over the former monster like he'd never been spooked. "Idiotic equine," she said and patted his neck. "I, ah, enjoyed our sparring. It's always good to vary one's partners."

"I see." Somehow he expects it's not just the horse who needs the run, but that doesn't really need to be pointed out.

Her other comment garners more of a look of interest as he starts Padraig walking down the trail again. "I'm glad you did. I so rarely get such compliments."

"Really? Well, I suppose most people haven't had the pleasure of dealing with my former tutor. You're hard, mi--Julien. But you're fair." Well, fair in the way a trainer should be. He hadn't been above taking advantage of any mistake. Rightly so.

She chews her lower lip. She can imagine Zoe's reaction to her plan. Adrien probably wouldn't approve at all. "I plan to challenge to Ten. Would you consider being my trainer?"

She had her own reasons not to seek tutelage within her Suit.

"What are you planning on Challenging in, then?" He's not one for immediate yes's.

Though someone seeking training for a challenge from another Suit isn't entirely unheard-of. Particularly if the challenger is trying to keep their sudden specific training out of the public eye lest people start watching.

Train where no one will see your weaknesses, was so ingrained it might have been engraved on her bones. She hadn't expected immediate acquiesence.

"Straight up hand-to-hand to start--freestyle. My target's of similar height and weight to you. I expect to be countered in sai, though I suppose he might go straight daggers. He likes showy, so I expect the sai." She weighs her next words before deciding to add, "Queen Sade normally trains me."

Säde, of course. It's not a scowl, but Sophie is likely observant enough to notice the way his jaw tightens minutely at the mention of the Diamond Queen.

"At least you are planning this carefully." So many seemed to just think they only had to win the first challenge, not putting any thought to a possible counter. Miss Berthier, he reflects, likely would have made quite a suitable Spade.

"It would likely be seen," he allows, "as something of a conflict of interest on her part if she trained you for a Challenge."

"I'll need to remember that reason for when she disapproves at me--if she has reason to disapprove at me, that is." Sophie, naturally, kept her gaze on her hands when she dropped her bombshell. It makes it so much easier not to give herself away.

"I'm afraid I don't know any other way to prepare for a challenge. Is it done differently in your Suit?"

"That's what you have a King for, isn't it?" You know, finally. He hadn't much taken of Vincent's measure yet, but at least the man seemed competent.

"And some people...don't seem to believe they need to put so much thought into it. I don't believe that's particular to any one Suit. But those are the people who never seem to get or stay above oh...Six or so."

She'd always gone to the Queen with her challenge requests. She doesn't want to insult Sade by changing everything at this late date. It wouldn't be the first time someone disapproved of her. She nods.

"Oh. Yes. There are people like that. I've always believed challenges should be treated seriously. You insult your opponent, your Suit and yourself if you don't." She shrugs. "Or perhaps I'm simply competitive by nature." Or had had it drilled into her.

[ota] stretching out

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Eileen, Lancelot, Victor, David, Michael only half the time...that might be it?

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