shri | FADE RIFT [INBOX]

Perhaps, but she is young. Age will temper it - or it usually does. The bloodthirstiest man might become a devout monk when the time comes.

[ That and - she is in no position to tell anyone about their hurt blinding their judgement, affecting the choices they make. ]

I suppose I might know some of myself in that too.

I don't know. I've known my fair share of cruel and angry old men. I wonder if age doesn't just mean that you're better able to hide your anger and pain.

[ And she can say that, because it's not like she's talking to an eighty-year-old or anything, right? ]

But she's afraid, too. I think that's the most dangerous thing. She's terrified that rifters are going to make it so they make a fill - flacktery - for her too.

[Getting roasted by a teenager. RIP. ]

Particular to me, seems like there is a great deal of politics to this place that I would rather do without. She was rather vehement I not seem crazed by giving my titles. Not because of rank being a concern. But that people make such claims to cause some kind of... Issues?

She wants us to hide ourselves. To blend in and not offend anyone. She thinks that's the path to saving ourselves.

[ She puffs out her cheeks. ]

Which - I don't know. I grew up in the Czech neighborhood. And the Czechs weren't exactly invisible, but they did what they were supposed to and followed all the rules, and they still were under constant surveillance and got raided by the Night Police. I don't think that simply being quiet and respectable will necessarily win us any love.

Mm. I know of such things, and I know them well.

[Dry, mild as she can manage. ]

I think she simply wants for no one to ask what they have not deserved, at least where position is concerned. but you are right. I have seen the way many of them look at us, for that which I certainly have no control over. I will work and work hard for what I get, and I have never expected to receive anything simply for my fine clothes. But pretend I am otherwise than what I am? Never. I do not care if they think I am mad.

Mm. [ She's nodding as Lakshmi speaks, and adds: ] And honestly, I think this world needs people who've got outsiders' perspectives. There's so much that's wrong here.

[ a pause, hanging on the tip of a tongue. Because kitty is a smart girl, sharp as a knife. ]

I fear they do not understand their need for change. Their houses, the way they live. I know the last place I saw such things.

The last place...? Where did you see it before?

[she catches herself before she says the wrong thing, in the wrong order. This girl at least, knows Europe. ] Heard tales of it perhaps, it was well and truly done that when I was a a child, but: France. In the palaces of Louie and his fool of a wife. At least what remained of them.

[ she bites her tongue, careful around her words. She knew what was coming, felt it gut deep. Careful around their meaning.]

Before their people took their heads and paraded them through the streets on pikes.

Sorry - Louie and...?

[ Kitty has been kept thoroughly ignorant of history - especially of stories about how the lower classes can sometimes throw off the chains of their oppressors. ]

I suppose we must not have had them in my world. What's the whole story? What happened?

[ What?

The silence stretches a moment. That made not a lick of sense. The girl was English, most certainly, and talked like any child on the streets. Chanting and singing about Louie losing his head, the call of her rebels, declaring down with Queen, down with Empire. The stories were too infectious to be suppressed, not even by the English and all their declarations.

But - she realises. This isn't a story she's telling. No doubt, if these Lords were even a quarter of what they were in the Europe of her own place and time, the weight spreading such tales would carry much of the same weight.

Treason was a charge that could be laid, just for stories alone. Especially with the consideration that Gwen had given her. ]

Kitty, you are... not very familiar with horses, are you? [ A best guess. ]

[ That's - an odd change in topic. Enough that she laughs. ]

Horses? No, not really. Why?

Meet me in the stables. It is time you gained familiarity.

[ Like she was one to dictate this girl's lessons, like a mother declaring such things. The tone is certainly of one. Brooks no arguments at least, like a tug on the ear to
a firm lesson. They are going for a ride.

Somewhere, that no one could overhear them, not even accidentally to mistake them. ]

That -

[ Is quite a bossy tone. But, well, she does need to learn. ]

Right now?

[ Hum. ] Right now.

Well - all right. I suppose. I'll meet you there.

[ and there she is, just the same. Dressed for a ride. No more than what is provided by the Inquisition, save for a decent pair of riding boots she'd gone out of her way to pay for. They would be worth every coin she paid for them.

Picked out the horse she'd taken on the journey with her. Used to the mares nature now. A decent one she could not be more fond of as she's well on the way to saddling her up again. Carting the hardtack about, checking the straps as she went. At least there was no extra weight to carry this time. A ride for ride's sake, so far as that went. ]

[ Kitty shows up dressed in her normal style - practical, unremarkable. A bit better suited to walking than riding, but it'll do. She gives the horses pretty wide berth as she walks, side-eyeing them rather warily. When she gets to Lakshmi, she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, gives a little shrug of greeting, and says: ]

Hullo.

Greetings.

[ It's muffled where she grunts with the heavy yank she gives the ladder. Until she's done making sure it isn't going to move, testing with a firm yank. Then patting down the horse with a firm, caring hand, an assurance for the familiarity. ] Catch. [ The bridle is thrown one-handed towards Kitty, a jangling bundle of leather and metal parts.

But whether she catches or has to pick it up off the ground, Lakshmi lets her do it without much comment, busying herself checking the height of the stirrups. ]

[ She catches - catlike reflexes, this one - and frowns at the complicated bundle of mystery straps. ]

What on earth is this?

Tack. Bridle to be exact.

[ A called over hum as she gets one stirrup in place, walking around the back of the horse to begin the process again. A brief assessment of Kitty in the meantime. Not so tall, not so short. ]

Think of what you have already seen and try to work out the top.

The top - of what? Of the horse?

[ Please tell her that's not something that needs to be worked out. ]

[ Can you feel her rolling her eyes? ]

The top of the bridle and reigns. Try to work out how you are supposed to put it on.

[ She'll come over there and tug your ear, Kitty, just you wait. ]

Oh.

[ She flushes just a bit. But, gamely, she tries to untangle it, frowning in some distress as she finds that...well, it's baffling. Still, through one-quarter logic and three-quarters luck, she manages to hold it up (eventually) in something vaguely resembling its actual configuration. ]

I guess?

[ She finishes up her adjustments as Kitty works out what she's holding. Coming back around to inspect Kitty's best guess and when she has it, she leans over to grip her shoulder once and firm in approval before she carries on. ]

Very good.

[ She takes it off her and steps forward to lead the horse into it. Hooking over its ears, jostling a moment to get the horse to take the bit. ] Always reward an animal, when it does as you ask. For so little, they will give you a thousand in return. More so then most people will ever give you. They deserve every kindness for it.

[ And she does in return, each little adjustment is given low soothing words, affectionate smoothing hands. ] Try not to let them eat when they have the bit in their mouth. [ It's a gruff laugh, moving about the room. ] They won't choke, but they'll make a mess of it every time, and it means they're distracted when you're riding.

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