it rocks him to his core, the word, the prospect. for starters, no one's ever wanted to work with him! that, and . . .
it reverberates like a song's hymns that get stuck in your head. they stick and glue. they whirled his emotions up as if they were spun in a bottle and set free.
maybe he needs the biggest shower and his bed, even if he knows he's not a smudge exhausted in mind. its spinning gears, active and excited.
partners. ]
I'll— be here, then. [ jayce keeps rope snd reins in his hand, stands there rather foolishly with the same simper— it is rio that knocks her head into his side enough to startle a step offbalance. it seems she's rather tired herself, huffing at his boots— to which he combs through her mane in apology. ] Tomorrow.
[ Viktor tries to remain nonchalant, but it's difficult when he's excited about the project and the prospect of having someone to work with. Partners. He's never had a partner in anything his entire life, preferring independence which was so often hard-won. Jayce hasn't done anything to suggest he's doing this out of pity or obligation, and that makes it all the more precious to have earned some of his trust.
Why did that matter so much to Viktor?
Chuckling at the interaction between horse and handler, he waves farewell as he takes up his cane and heads back towards the house. ] Tomorrow.
[ 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. ]
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no subject
it rocks him to his core, the word, the prospect. for starters, no one's ever wanted to work with him! that, and . . .
it reverberates like a song's hymns that get stuck in your head. they stick and glue. they whirled his emotions up as if they were spun in a bottle and set free.
maybe he needs the biggest shower and his bed, even if he knows he's not a smudge exhausted in mind. its spinning gears, active and excited.
partners. ]
I'll— be here, then. [ jayce keeps rope snd reins in his hand, stands there rather foolishly with the same simper— it is rio that knocks her head into his side enough to startle a step offbalance. it seems she's rather tired herself, huffing at his boots— to which he combs through her mane in apology. ] Tomorrow.
no subject
Why did that matter so much to Viktor?
Chuckling at the interaction between horse and handler, he waves farewell as he takes up his cane and heads back towards the house. ] 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. ]