(no subject)

[god_of_the_arena]

Work started early.

Gannicus didn't have a problem with early mornings, but sometimes they had a problem with him. Especially if he'd been drinking the night before... and he was almost always drinking the night before. His boss informed him a day or so ago that he'd hired someone new and they - she would be in this morning.

Whatever he was expecting, she was... short. With hair that reminded him of home. Despite his generally congenial nature, Gannicus couldn't muster an actual smile. His head still throbbed, though with the water he'd been pounding back it was starting to ease.

"I am not much for mornings," he confessed as he pulled his hair back. They had a fresh shipment that needed to be cut and portioned for the day's sales. It was early.

Comments

[god_of_the_arena]

"I've been doing it most of my life," he said. "We hunted for what we needed." As a slave he hadn't needed the skill, but it wasn't one he'd forgotten; as a reluctant free man and member of a rebel army, he'd practiced often. "Usually deer or goats," he confessed. "But the rest were easy to learn."

[scorpiobird]

I can't boast such skills, myself. "I'm pretty sure there's more meat in this room than I've eaten since–" Suddenly, I haven't got the words to it. How can I tell a near-stranger how poorly I've eaten in the last year as well as my reasons why.

"Money's not very good when you're an orphan," I say, rather than leave the word empty in the air.

[god_of_the_arena]

"Nor when you're a slave," he answered, offering a small smile. "I lived on my dominus's good graces and the will of the mob for a long time." Even as a freed man he got boy on very little coin, most of it earned from plying this particular trade. "Our boss gives considerable discount. If you have interest."

[scorpiobird]

He moves on so quickly from the topic that I don't think of anything to say that doesn't sound pitying. There's no use in saying sorry because I know I'd have hated it if someone said that to me, especially if I'd once been someone's property, for all the nasty things everyone on the island said about belonging to Benjamin Malvern.

So I nod and screw up my face sympathetically in a way that I hope conveys that I don't want to harp on a point if he doesn't want to but that it still sounds terrible. I think, mostly, I just look like I've got indigestion.

"I'm less worried about feeding myself than our horses," I say.

[god_of_the_arena]

"Have you been to the farm here?" he asked. "A woman there, Eowyn, would help without thought." He was sure she would, especially in the matter of keeping horses well-fed and safe.

[scorpiobird]

"Just the stables," I say. I've explored some of the city, at last, but most of my interest in the country has been in places that Dove would like. "She's boarded there but they charge by the month."

They also tell me I need to have her see a vet and a farrier soon, which costs yet more money. I know it's good for her, but the price makes my head spin a little.

[god_of_the_arena]

"Could you work it off?" he asked, wondering out loud - Gannicus didn't know. But he wondered if she could do chores in exchange for a lower board rate. Surely something could be worked out.

[scorpiobird]

"I can, a bit. And I do, but they've got all the working grooms they need." More to the point, they've got Sean Kendrick and I'm sure he will make himself indispensable in no time.

"And my...sweetheart's horse is unusual." Sweetheart feels young and silly, but still better than boyfriend to say. "He eats meat."

[god_of_the_arena]

Gannicus wasn't sure he wanted to consider what kind of beast looked like a horse but ate meat. In the strangeness of Darrow it didn't seem impossible, but the thought was foreign enough to be... disturbing. Like some monster out of myth.

"At least you can get it at discount now," he said with a wry smile.

[scorpiobird]

I nod. "And at least my Dove only eats hay and grain." I've come to love Corr but he is the only capall uisce that I see in that way. The rest are still terrifying things to me that don't seem like real horses.

[god_of_the_arena]

"They sound like stories from home," he said. It didn't surprise him that something like that would show up here - not after ten months spent in Darrow.

[scorpiobird]

"Oh?" I ask and I know I ought to be kinder but I can't help being my own rotten self. "You've got stories where monstrous horses come out of the water every fall and islanders train them to race?"

[god_of_the_arena]

"No, but stories of monstrous beasts that dwell in rivers and lakes and ponds, and will take a child or a grown man down to the depths, or for a ride that will last his life and beyond." He shrugged, a faint smirk on his mouth. "Of flaming horses that pull the sun across the sky, and great dogs that guard the dead. If you come from a place where men catch and ride such creatures, it would not be beyond belief to my people."

[scorpiobird]

"Those aren't stories where I'm from," I say. "Not the flaming ones or the three-headed dogs, but the capaill uisce lived in the ocean. Everyone on our island knew someone who'd been killed by one."

I don't give him the answer right away but I know the next question is obvious. If everyone on Thisby's known people to die from the water horses, who have I lost?

Suddenly, the thought of hacking away at meat turns my stomach and I have to drop my head and close my eyes until I get my bearings again.

[god_of_the_arena]

The question never came, though; she'd already answered it enough. Everyone on the island knew someone that died, so she must too. Asking after it, prompting, seemed somehow rude; or maybe she expected it? Gannicus was rarely good in moments like this. He drank his coffee slowly and sets it aside, watching as she looked down, apparently trying to catch herself.

"Are you well?" he asked, watching cautiously. If she was about to faint, he wanted to be sure to catch her.

[scorpiobird]

"Yes," I say. I'm not, not perfectly, but I need to tell myself that so I can steady myself. "I just thought about something from home." The gutted sheep lying in the road. The spray of blood on my face as that wretched piebald bit the terrier in two. The thought of what my parents must have looked like, if even anything was left.

And I'm thinking of cutting up meat to feed one of them?

I take a deep, cold breath and put my hands on the counter. "I'm not used to this. I will be."