deercountry | bow down your strong heads to taste the water [OPEN]

Anakin goes looking for Padmé when he hears she's out. The wet footprints he encounters as he tries to locate her is concerning, but when he finds the wet horse rooting around a bag he relaxes. If this was anything dangerous it's unlikely to want to eat some abandoned pastries.

Despite his strength in the Force, he doesn't have a natural affinity for animals so he's more cautious as he approaches.

"Uhh hey there. I don't think those are good for you."

There's that flicker of an ear that swivels in his direction, noting the approach of someone, although she's a bit more focused on the food. At least until it gets a little closer, and when she hears him speak? Well, the head shoots up and she calls out his name.

Or tries too.

It's a gargled whicker, slightly muffled by pastry crumbs as she lurches towards him with a squishy clomp of hooves.

Well it seems friendly enough? He pets its nose as he bends down to pick up the wet bag. It's tattered, but somehow still manages to keep the remaining food inside. After a moments thought he pulls out a half-eaten bun and puts that in his mouth. Waste not, want not.

"This is human food. I'll see if I can find something else for you. And maybe a towel to dry you off. Did you fall in a swamp or something?"

There may be a hopeful hint in those milky eyes, at least until the pat comes to her nose, to which the equine form stills in surprise. It's a quizzical shifting of her ears as she gives a small snort. She may have forgotten about the bag in the moment, but her focus is back when he picks it up.

It's not until he takes a bite out of her food that Padmé gives a nudge against him, with perhaps slightly more force than intended. Not that she is trying to injure or harm, but rather regain her items. She'd share.... But she's nipping towards taking the bag back. Hers, thank you very much.

Anakin has to take a few steps forward to avoid getting pushed to the ground by the wet horse. "Hey, hey, hey. Easy there. I said I'll feed you. Just not this. Unless I see my wife. Then I might get distracted. But it'll happen eventually."

He keeps a hand against its nose despite the damp sinking into his gloves. He'll take a fussy horse over some monster any day.

There's an upward bopping motion against his hand, as if trying to get his attention. Although part of that is due to the food, the buttery scent of the pastries hitting her nose. The other part is that his wife is right here.

Think, Padmé, think.

Gingerly, she lips at the hem of his sleeve, holding it between her front teeth as she takes a step back, seeking to tug him along with her. That might work, right? Maybe if she can lead him to the house.

He thinks she's going for the food again so he swaps it to his other hand and holds it away, but instead the horse tugs at his sleeve. He doesn't know its sentience level, but it's clear it's trying to communicate with him.

"I don't know what you want to show me, but I can't go with you right now."

He looks back down the other way even as the horse tries to pull him along to see if he could catch a glimpse of her.

Well she's not taking no for an answer, at least not easily. She gives another tug, stronger still, stubborn, insistent. Come, come, she seems to say, taking a step back until she's pulling his sleeve taunt. Back towards the direction of the residence that Sabé and her share, although it's not like he knows her thought process.

It's either go or lose a chunk of his sleeve and while he could sew it back together he'd rather it not be torn in the first place.

"Okay, okay. I'm coming."

He's still going to keep the pastries for himself though.

That's still up for debate, as Padmé hasn't forgotten about them. She'd be going back to get them from Anakin in a bit. For now she side-steps until she is certain that he is coming along. Not that she lets go but rather continues onward step by step, slowly leading him towards a certain house. He may or may not clue in as she get closer.

It takes a lot longer than it should before he realises where they're going. Although in his defence, he's paying less attention to where they're going and more on where they came from.

"Wait, are you Sabé's?"

No offence, Padmé, but he knows she's not the type to keep animals. As if a senator had the time or inclination to look after a pet.

Her ears flatten against her head. While he isn't wrong in his reasoning, as Padmé had never sought to have a pet, either back home or here, it still isn't the right conclusion. There seems to be a sweep of impatience across her face before her head swings, glancing around for something to aid.

In the end she just moves towards the door, looking back at him, before bumping her muzzle against it.

Judging by the reaction that's not quite right so maybe it's more a working animal they co-own. Either way, leaving a soaking wet animal to wander freely was an odd choice, but either way he's not letting it come inside. Even he has some standards.

"You're going to get the carpets wet. I'll see if there's anything I can use to get you dry instead. You're lucky I love her enough to do this for you."

There's some laundry hanging out to dry, but somehow he thinks neither of them would appreciate him using their clean towels to dry a horse.

She'd thought that if she had been able to find something of her own, she might somehow be able to communicate it, carpets be damned. There's little on the outside to distinguish the house, with both Sabé and Padmé falling back to old habits of remaining nondescript. He wouldn't find Padmé within anyway, given that she's right there, but those ears to perk up and there is a softness that shifts across those eerie features. A soft bump along his arm is given, as she loves him too.

He gives her a distracted smile, but he has otherwise has no reason to think it would react any differently to his words. His search eventually yielding a length of canvas tarpaulin that had been seemingly discarded and interestingly nothing that would suggest a horse was being kept here. A new acquisition perhaps?

"What do you think of this?"

As he's speaking aloud for his own benefit than anything else he doesn't wait for a reaction before pulling it over the horse.

"Don't worry, I'll get you nice and warm in no time. You're a pretty good distraction, you know that?"

Those pale eyes trail along him as he wanders around, looking, although her attention is more on the remaining baked goods that he still holds. She'll bide her time for the moment, waiting until he is closer, before going for them again, but she otherwise remains standing there, a small pool of stagnant water forming around her hooves.

If a horse can look dubious, Padmé does. Then again, Anakin is moving before she can even react, the canvas resting upon her back. Yet it doesn't just rest upon it, but also starts to stick to her tacky skin.

He notices things seem to stick to the horse when he attempts to rub them dry. He takes a step back, hands on his hips to reassess the situation. Was it just him or did it look wetter than before?

"You're not a normal horse, are you?"

Before his very eyes the canvas starts to get soaked through with no visible change elsewhere.

Said equine may look a little foolish at the moment, the material slightly scrunched up from efforts to dry, which only results in a mess. There's a strike with one hoof, although it stomps down, as if in agreement, before pausing. Backing, she angles towards a dirt area, and tries to paw out a word. Unfortunately it ends up being just a series of lines in the dirt, resulting in /\ /\/ /. Even she doesn't look impressed with her efforts.

Anakin follows along and looks down at the lines in the dirt. He has no idea if he's meant to see anything here.

"Uh, could you repeat that?"

He leaves the tarp alone for now, it looks like it'll be uncomfortable to peel off and he doesn't want to spook it right now when it's clearly frustrated about something.

Maybe, just maybe? It isn't the clearest, and the stars above know that Padmé's actual handwriting is a lot better. There is a glimmer of hope, that quickly dissipates. She gives a snort down at the writing, before lifting her head to poke at his chest, and back down again.

Fine, fine. He takes another look, not expecting anything to change, but this time he thinks it might actually be writing and that kind of looks like...

"Is that... me?"

There is only one person who calls him Ani now and there's a slowly dawning horror of what this means.

Finally. Not that Padmé can blame him. It's not like she had expected to find herself like this and her writing... One really did have to squint at the squiggles and read between the lines. She gives a soft noise, before taking a half step forward, forehead pressing into his chest. She is larger than she is used to, and might press in a bit too hard by accident. Sorry...

"...Angel?" The press pushes him back a step, but it doesn't register to him.

Slowly and carefully he places one hand against her nose and the other against her neck, heedlessly of the tacky wetness that immediately starts to soak through his sleeves.

"What happened?"

That long breath is released as he says that, remaining bent toward him like she typically does, yet it is not quite the same fit. She can usually nestle herself and have his chin upon her head, yet she's. But he finally get it, at least as much as she does and there is an almost uncertain snort to the question. This place is what happened.

Now that he's aware, he can reach out with the Force to allow her to convey more than just physical gestures. There's no words, but he can read her relief.

"We'll figure it out, I promise."

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democratically - 2022-06-26 17:55 (UTC) - Expand