[ he waves off one last tomorrow before he's turning on his good heel and accompanying the click of rio's hooves, the smile hasn't relented and it's starting make his cheeks burn. for a second he feels like maybe he should've said more. thank you, or, i've always wanted a partner, or even i'm happy. that last part was especially true and meant . . . so much.
when rio is untacked and put away for the night, jayce organizes the tack room itself, gets a much needed shower, and shuffles to his night desk with a bright candle light. it's time to write. every evening is a moment to put his thoughts in order, scribble any new ideas. the first thing he writes as a page header is:
I have a partner. His name is Viktor. He believed in me.
Maybe this is what I needed.
he took some notes on rio's gait underneath, some future adjustments to keep in mind for the following week, based on what he saw. then his pencil roamed, starting with the shape of the mare's neck and extending to her front legs. by the time he stopped to realize his work, some time has passed, and he's drawn viktor, riding his steed side saddle in surprising detail and gentle strokes. he didn't forget his moles or his sharp cheek bones, either.
he stares at it in silence, for a while— a puffy breath of a laugh pushes through his nostrils at last. maybe it's time to go to bed.
so he blows the candle out, lays in bed, and sleeps like a log until tomorrow. ]
no subject
when rio is untacked and put away for the night, jayce organizes the tack room itself, gets a much needed shower, and shuffles to his night desk with a bright candle light. it's time to write. every evening is a moment to put his thoughts in order, scribble any new ideas. the first thing he writes as a page header is:
I have a partner. His name is Viktor. He believed in me.
Maybe this is what I needed.
he took some notes on rio's gait underneath, some future adjustments to keep in mind for the following week, based on what he saw. then his pencil roamed, starting with the shape of the mare's neck and extending to her front legs. by the time he stopped to realize his work, some time has passed, and he's drawn viktor, riding his steed side saddle in surprising detail and gentle strokes. he didn't forget his moles or his sharp cheek bones, either.
he stares at it in silence, for a while— a puffy breath of a laugh pushes through his nostrils at last. maybe it's time to go to bed.
so he blows the candle out, lays in bed, and sleeps like a log until tomorrow. ]