Post by Preservation on Oct 2, 2011 16:44:50 GMT -6
The last in a long line of buckets hit the ground hard. The foot that had knocked it over followed closely and battered it repeatedly, heedless of the grain pellets that sprayed from the opening. Each kick was punctuated by a sharp word, but only the most astute listener could have discerned the content of the sentence. Most of the syllables were entirely lost in the general din of metal, wood, and flesh hitting each other.
After a good half-minute of this, Caoilinn put her arms against the wooden wall, pressed her forehead into them, and fell silent. Ilius, the hot-blooded yearling who occupied this stall, neighed tremulously and shoved his head against her shoulder blade. With a sigh she pushed away from the wall and turned to face her trainee, who eyed her cautiously. "Hey, Il. Sorry." She gave his neck a contrite scratch, then fell still and silent once more. Speaking to the horses when she was upset tended to be a bad idea; the older ones knew her well enough to be unsettled when she acted out of turn, and the youngsters were too easily spooked.
Come to think of it, she should have known better than to take off at the feeding bucket like that, but she hadn't considered that beforehand. It was hard to, given how sick she had gotten of the fool that she had been partnered with for the past three months. Avram Ceart wasn't the worst sort of noble—he had yet to kill or even strike any of the skaa workers, and usually a genuine effort to pull his own weight—but he was without a doubt the worst trainer Caoilinn had ever encountered. A minor family member in an already-trivial house, he had to have some experience working in the real world, but it obviously didn't involve horses His bad habits ranged from tightening bits until blood shone on the metal to trying to put foals through the yearlings' paces, and it was all compounded by the fact that he refused to take Caoilinn's advice. Seniority and experience apparently counted for nothing when you were a skaa; he was the noble, so he knew everything there was to know about horses.
Over time, she had gotten used to his ordinary antics. Putting her charges in the line of colic, however, was both new and intolerable. Getting one of the horses killed would certainly send him packing, but neither her sanity nor his pathetic job was worth equine lives.
As if on cue, a voice drifted in the doorway. "Caoilinn! I need to know where-"
She meant to be moderate, she honestly did, but every step between the stall and the training ring intensified her fury. By the time she was actually standing face-to-face (face-to-shoulder, more like), she was in no state to stop what wanted to come out of her mouth. "As much as I appreciate the confidence, you are severely overestimating my ability to give a damn about what you need."
They stared at each other for a few seconds, Avram with a confused stance and livid eyebrows and Caoilinn with a quavering uncertainty about whether she had gone too far. Weeks had passed since she last mouthed off to her so-called partner, and if he had looked displeased back when it was a regular occurrence, she couldn't guess how he might react now. Still, her mouth kept firing. "There was gravel in the feed this morning again. I understand that you've spent your entire life eating meals that are already diced up enough to shove them up that hole to your head, so I get why you don't have an ashmount-crisped clue about what to do with food, but I would think that learning to balance your ego on top of all that jewelry would teach you how to carry a few bags around without dropping them everywhere. If-"
Avram was definitely looking more incensed than perplexed now. Panting a little, Caoi dragged herself to a stop and sought her aluminum. As usual, the tiny cache waited somewhere at the back of her stomach. Desperation touched her flare, demolishing the small reserve in seconds. The effect was instantaneous; though she remained tense, Caoilinn's mouth stayed closed and the roar in her brain went down several decibels. Calm wasn't exactly in reach, but she was under control.
"I'm sorry, skaa."
Unsure whether to drop dead of shock or bristle at the diminutive ("skaa" had become an affectionate nickname for her in the same way that some people called their dogs "mutt"), Caoilinn eyed her fellow employee askance. "What?"
He offered a crooked grin and shrugged. "I'll watch out next time, promise. In the meantime, you want some advice?"
Bristling was definitely the correct action here. Though she tried to remind herself that her aluminum was gone and she couldn't get too worked up, Caoilinn could feel herself stiffening further. Exactly how did his mental logic run? A skaa girl is yelling at me! She must have done something wrong! "What," she said again, deliberately letting her voice fall in the manner of a statement rather than a question.
Apparently oblivious to her lack of interest, Avram patted her shoulder. "Get drunk more often." He turned to go, leaving Caoilinn to stare, dumbfounded, at his retreating back. After a few steps he paused and turned around, one hand raised in a gesture that was probably designed to hold attention but only succeeded in making him look like an idiot. "Normally I'd suggest you get laid, but if you get pregnant you might not be able to ride and there's no way I'm doing this stuff alo-"
"Avram."
Get out was right behind on her lips, but she didn't need to say it. For once, Avram's brain cells fired; he shut up, nodded weakly, and ducked behind a door. By the time Li's wordless scream of frustration made its way out, he was out of both sight and earshot.
---------------
Unfortunately, when it came down to it Caoilinn couldn't really argue with his advice. While something that left its drinkers confused and vulnerable was far from her go-to solution for anything, alcohol was significantly cheaper than aluminum and far easier to get to. So that evening, once the feed had been sifted and all the horses had turned in or been turned out, she set out on the streets of Luthadel to find the cheapest bar her fellow citizens could point her to.
The result was a tiny establishment even dingier than Li herself. Ash coated the walls, except for the occasional patch that had been banged into hard enough to clear a path to the white paint underneath. More importantly, a deluge of noise blew her headache out of proportion. There was no yelling, but the place was packed Stepping in immediately seemed like a mistake; scenario after scenario of bar fights, abductions, and beheadings flashed through her mind, each worse than he last. She was hardly going to back out now, though, so she forced herself to march up to the bar and plop herself in the least dusty chair.
No bartender could be seen, so Caoi sat drumming her fingers and glaring at everyone in the general vicinity, partly to keep people away and partly to express her general frustration with life. A grimy, crowded bar was not the image that came to mind when she thought about relaxation. Every second she stayed in this place, her muscles tensed a little more and she sunk a little further into her chair.
This was the last time she took Avram's advice on anything.
After a good half-minute of this, Caoilinn put her arms against the wooden wall, pressed her forehead into them, and fell silent. Ilius, the hot-blooded yearling who occupied this stall, neighed tremulously and shoved his head against her shoulder blade. With a sigh she pushed away from the wall and turned to face her trainee, who eyed her cautiously. "Hey, Il. Sorry." She gave his neck a contrite scratch, then fell still and silent once more. Speaking to the horses when she was upset tended to be a bad idea; the older ones knew her well enough to be unsettled when she acted out of turn, and the youngsters were too easily spooked.
Come to think of it, she should have known better than to take off at the feeding bucket like that, but she hadn't considered that beforehand. It was hard to, given how sick she had gotten of the fool that she had been partnered with for the past three months. Avram Ceart wasn't the worst sort of noble—he had yet to kill or even strike any of the skaa workers, and usually a genuine effort to pull his own weight—but he was without a doubt the worst trainer Caoilinn had ever encountered. A minor family member in an already-trivial house, he had to have some experience working in the real world, but it obviously didn't involve horses His bad habits ranged from tightening bits until blood shone on the metal to trying to put foals through the yearlings' paces, and it was all compounded by the fact that he refused to take Caoilinn's advice. Seniority and experience apparently counted for nothing when you were a skaa; he was the noble, so he knew everything there was to know about horses.
Over time, she had gotten used to his ordinary antics. Putting her charges in the line of colic, however, was both new and intolerable. Getting one of the horses killed would certainly send him packing, but neither her sanity nor his pathetic job was worth equine lives.
As if on cue, a voice drifted in the doorway. "Caoilinn! I need to know where-"
She meant to be moderate, she honestly did, but every step between the stall and the training ring intensified her fury. By the time she was actually standing face-to-face (face-to-shoulder, more like), she was in no state to stop what wanted to come out of her mouth. "As much as I appreciate the confidence, you are severely overestimating my ability to give a damn about what you need."
They stared at each other for a few seconds, Avram with a confused stance and livid eyebrows and Caoilinn with a quavering uncertainty about whether she had gone too far. Weeks had passed since she last mouthed off to her so-called partner, and if he had looked displeased back when it was a regular occurrence, she couldn't guess how he might react now. Still, her mouth kept firing. "There was gravel in the feed this morning again. I understand that you've spent your entire life eating meals that are already diced up enough to shove them up that hole to your head, so I get why you don't have an ashmount-crisped clue about what to do with food, but I would think that learning to balance your ego on top of all that jewelry would teach you how to carry a few bags around without dropping them everywhere. If-"
Avram was definitely looking more incensed than perplexed now. Panting a little, Caoi dragged herself to a stop and sought her aluminum. As usual, the tiny cache waited somewhere at the back of her stomach. Desperation touched her flare, demolishing the small reserve in seconds. The effect was instantaneous; though she remained tense, Caoilinn's mouth stayed closed and the roar in her brain went down several decibels. Calm wasn't exactly in reach, but she was under control.
"I'm sorry, skaa."
Unsure whether to drop dead of shock or bristle at the diminutive ("skaa" had become an affectionate nickname for her in the same way that some people called their dogs "mutt"), Caoilinn eyed her fellow employee askance. "What?"
He offered a crooked grin and shrugged. "I'll watch out next time, promise. In the meantime, you want some advice?"
Bristling was definitely the correct action here. Though she tried to remind herself that her aluminum was gone and she couldn't get too worked up, Caoilinn could feel herself stiffening further. Exactly how did his mental logic run? A skaa girl is yelling at me! She must have done something wrong! "What," she said again, deliberately letting her voice fall in the manner of a statement rather than a question.
Apparently oblivious to her lack of interest, Avram patted her shoulder. "Get drunk more often." He turned to go, leaving Caoilinn to stare, dumbfounded, at his retreating back. After a few steps he paused and turned around, one hand raised in a gesture that was probably designed to hold attention but only succeeded in making him look like an idiot. "Normally I'd suggest you get laid, but if you get pregnant you might not be able to ride and there's no way I'm doing this stuff alo-"
"Avram."
Get out was right behind on her lips, but she didn't need to say it. For once, Avram's brain cells fired; he shut up, nodded weakly, and ducked behind a door. By the time Li's wordless scream of frustration made its way out, he was out of both sight and earshot.
---------------
Unfortunately, when it came down to it Caoilinn couldn't really argue with his advice. While something that left its drinkers confused and vulnerable was far from her go-to solution for anything, alcohol was significantly cheaper than aluminum and far easier to get to. So that evening, once the feed had been sifted and all the horses had turned in or been turned out, she set out on the streets of Luthadel to find the cheapest bar her fellow citizens could point her to.
The result was a tiny establishment even dingier than Li herself. Ash coated the walls, except for the occasional patch that had been banged into hard enough to clear a path to the white paint underneath. More importantly, a deluge of noise blew her headache out of proportion. There was no yelling, but the place was packed Stepping in immediately seemed like a mistake; scenario after scenario of bar fights, abductions, and beheadings flashed through her mind, each worse than he last. She was hardly going to back out now, though, so she forced herself to march up to the bar and plop herself in the least dusty chair.
No bartender could be seen, so Caoi sat drumming her fingers and glaring at everyone in the general vicinity, partly to keep people away and partly to express her general frustration with life. A grimy, crowded bar was not the image that came to mind when she thought about relaxation. Every second she stayed in this place, her muscles tensed a little more and she sunk a little further into her chair.
This was the last time she took Avram's advice on anything.
