by Aramenta on March 31st, 2013, 12:15 pm
Ara looks at the man queerly, a mild frown on her face for a moment but nods into a half bow from her horseback. Livvy gathers up her mistress's dropped weapon and hands it up to her with a smirk. Ara, blushing a bit, but maintaining her dignity, hangs if from her waist, and pulls the horse forward. Her mouth still oozes blood, and occaisionally, she leans over to the side, and spits a small mouthful of it onto the ground, and she is a little bit ginger with the bruised arm, but otherwise, she seems in fair shape for a nasty fall.
Livvy leads the horse, so the horse walks very slowly, her feet picking through the grass with delicate caution, feeling the discomfort of her rider, and wanting to spare her the pain of a jolt. Ara, even in her mild daze, has the natural rolling rhythm of musculature of a fairly competent rider - her haunches squeeze just perceptibly, and her spine rolls slightly with each step of the horse, her body rolling gently as if it were an extension of the horse's body, making her (now sweaty) braids jangle slightly against her neck with each step.
Livvy, for her part, has the length of jute-rope wound around her shoulder, and still touches gingerly at her bruised eye. Between her own shiner and her mistress's bloody face, the two look quite the sight, but Livvy smiles, in a mild, tired way as they thread through Endrykas. This is not a milk town, anyway - the people know what it is to have a bruise or a scar now and then. So a few faces look up and smirk, but most probably smirk more at the fact that the pretty young girl rides beside a young gentlemen.
The Stonewhistling Pavilion itself rests near the edge of the camp, and from its door, it was possible to see their herds wheeling in brown clouds through the sea-green grass below, the tall, steel figure of Ara's father in the midst of them, those of some of her brothers, sisters, and cousins dancing their Striders along the edges, with the long herdsman poles guiding wayward horses back into the central body. They were moving the herd, to keep them from overfeeding a section of pasture. Ara, still atop her horse, stuck two fingers between her lips, and whistled, a long, shrill tone, followed by another, second, higher tone. The father's hand went up in a gesture of welcome and questioning. Ara sent back a simple 'All's Well'. Father was perhaps a touch overprotective. It would be best to clean up before bringing things up with him.
She turned her horse, then, and leaned low in her seat so that her lips were right by Livvy's ear, one hand wound tight into Canter's mane, the other gesturing neutral pleasantry. Livvy nodded at the girl's whisper, and looked up to Fox.
"Missy Ara say thank you for your attention, and for the training 'pportunity, Master. And she hopes y'knee don't hurt too much." her hands move, much as Ara's had, in the gesture of polite pleasantry, of mild graciousness. Ara slips down from her horse, and the two girls pull Canter gently around to the back, to feed and comb her, and likely tend to their own wounds.