multiversallogs | there's no map, and a compass won't help at all

Who: ~~Bruce~~ Tom and Ilde, eventually Seoraj.
What: PONIES.
Where: The southern farmlands.
When: S..OMETIME.. probably before the log with Wolfgang, we kept saying we were going to do this log (IT STARTED BEFORE WE MOVED TO DW), so it's happening whenever is convenient for our timelines.
Notes: BATMAN AND A FAERIE ARE GOING TO SEE PONIES, DEAL WITH IT.
Warnings: None it's ponies.

Based on what he knows of her from the network, Bruce isn't entirely sure why Ilde is here with him - hanging out. Hell, he's not sure why he's here, but it seems like she's got more of a reason to not want to spend time with some human guy, easily trumping his desire to shun all socialization on principle. Maybe she's just curious, or maybe the opportunity to do this with someone who knows what he's doing overrides whatever else - maybe Bruce should stop trying to analyze everyone else all the fucking time, and think about himself for two minutes. (Never.)

It's dark on the edges of Stoneshell, rural, lacking in light pollution or even courtesy lamps, but the moon is good enough illumination for him. This won't be the first time he's wondered about the gravity and cosmic location of Baedal; the moon doesn't look quite like Earth's Luna, or even Cruithne. His boots crunch in the grass, noises soft but deliberate - he could be silent, as he moves, but it would be strange, seeing as he isn't alone.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Bruce - Tom - is not merely 'some human guy'.

He's Hasi's human guy, and Ilde (brace yourself for this part) tends to trust her judgement, at least enough that friend-of-this-friend counts for something and she follows him in pants (leather, leggings, under a sweater-dress) and flats (...that have gold skulls on them) in the form of minor concession to both the weather and where they are. For as much as she likes to pretend, there isn't actually much about her that can be called practical and a body built to withstand very cold temperatures naked means it's not so much that she ignores the weather as it genuinely doesn't really matter. Until actually dropped in arctic conditions bare-assed, wearing a coat is just decoration and she's not very decorative this evening, mostly due to the fact that they aren't supposed to be here and drawing attention of anyone who isn't a horse isn't actually in the plan.

There's a plan. It mostly involves 'sneak onto farm, say hello to horses', but it does exist and all things considered, Ilde is in a pretty good mood about it. Even if this is the most serious-faced excursion into pure self-indulgent ridiculousness that she's ever participated in-- arguably, that's a point in its favour. Certain temperaments make explaining these things away later much easier, if only out of an ability to make them sound very reasonable.

"There," she says, pleased.

It's hardly self-indulgent ridiculousness. It's practical. Self-indulgent ridiculousness would be scheduling an appointment and coming out in the middle of the day to view horses and do it with ice cream and sunhats, or something. That would be terrible. This is just hopping a fence, and there's not even any irritatingly cheerful sunshine or, even worse, other people, to distract them.

(Let's just prove Ilde's last narrative point there even more, shall we?)

There's a few horses milling about a few meters back from the fence they're near, and the closest one raises its head, ears perked, when they approach. It's good; well-tempered and trained horses will always be interested in people, conditioned to assume they come bearing attention and snacks. "They're probably bored," he remarks, and hops halfway over the fence, momentarily sitting astride it while that first curious horse comes over to shove its nose at Bruce, searching.

(Neither of them would be properly indulged by icecream, sunhats or being allowed.)

Ilde boosts herself up after him - which involves more climbing, on her part - and glances around at the great wide nothing in particular that is Baedal's farmlands in this area. "I would be," she says, as though boredom is the worst thing she can imagine; it isn't, but she doesn't do well with proper idleness, either.

"Bored is pretty good, for a horse." Lots of space, and these ones look fat, happy, and healthy. They're probably being trained to be sold as riding horses, versus workers, seeing as how people-friendly they are.

"Do they scare you at all?" Some people are intimidated by the sheer size of them, and he asks even as he shoves this one horse's nose over towards Ilde (it's not rough; you have to be a little forceful with their enormous heads to get any kind of reaction), and it sniffs her, a bit like it's not sure what to make of this lady, but there's no hostility.

"The first time I was on a horse with Daddy," she says, reaching out to lay her hand curiously on her new acquaintance's face (the horse, not Bruce), "I thought they were supposed to be scary, because my stepfather looked like he was praying."

She hadn't found them that way (and that wasn't what François was worried about); she still doesn't.

"I think I was four or five."

(Thank you for that clarification.)

"I learned early, they wanted me to play polo."

This did not happen.

Bruce eases down onto the other side of the fence, and walks around to the horse's side, near Ilde, patting its neck. One of the other horses is ambling over now, slowly, mainly just curious to see what the fuss is over - they didn't bring treats, so there's no rush, but still.

Making a face at the mention of polo is completely reflexive and something for which she can't be blamed; it is a sport designed to leave no sense of dignity unpunished. Water polo (which doesn't involve horses, at least) isn't much better.

Swinging her leg over a moment later, she settles on top of the fence, balanced well enough with her heels resting against the side below. "Riding club at school was good," she said, detangling part of the horse's mane in front of her to occupy her hands. "Some of the other girls were on the equestrian team as well, but I'm more of a hobbyist."

There's a large gap between the stories she tells offhand; things that took place in Baedal, things that took place during boarding school. But Bruce and his tendency to creep the network presumably already knows why.

"Yeah, I never actually played."

So he understood everything that face wasn't saying, yes.

Bruce never did much with it in school - clubs and teams were social endeavors, and even if he wanted to be engaged in something like that, he was never going to be welcomed into it. Too much of a sideshow. But if there's one bright spot about being kidnapped into an alien dimension, it's that none of that matters; Bruce makes a little noise, hand near the horse's chin, and lo and behold, it actually backs up a little. He pats the horse's neck after. Good girl.

Just enough social interaction to stay above noticeably antisocial was, at times, a genuinely calculated effort; Ilde finds it's easier to be background when somebody else is right there to be the foreground, when you're consistently background noise and nobody's looking at your absence. It's how she used to avoid being asked questions, just convincing people that there was nothing to ask. That they already knew everything worth knowing. Adolescent-level manipulation, the kind that's easiest when you are an adolescent and most people don't feel the need to look that hard in the first place. There are narratives into which you can fit--

"You're good with them." It's been a while since she was this near a horse, she thinks.

"They're better at body language than people are."

So, in a way, horses speak Bruce's language better than most other humans do. He doesn't seem too fussed about it; he likes people, and the quiet watchful sense he has about him makes that obvious, even if he isn't social. (Sometimes he's still really, really bitter about being such an outsider, but it's much easier not to have those moments when he doesn't have Gotham's high society to contend with. If it was all slums and dark alleys, he'd be fine.)

"Do you know how to ride without a saddle?"

"I've done it a few times," she says, a little cautiously; she can, but it's not something she has as much practise at and she's not going to get too cocky about it. It's been a while since she went on a horse bareback. (Or at all.) "It's been years, though."

Bruce seems to be inspecting something - on the horse - and, once satisfied, shoots Ilde a look. (His night vision is pretty good, for just some guy.) "Want to?"

He's a nice boy, full of a good ideas.

(And the weirdest fucking date.)

"Yes," she says, promptly; she didn't even have to think about that, look how good she is at good ideas. Or really bad ideas that sound like a lot of fun - she's got a knack for those ones, always has. It's hereditary, she's pretty sure. A lot of things tend to make sense in context of 'Emery'.

there's no map, and a compass won't help at all

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