#baronyofthesilverwolf

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Vrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrmmmmmmmmmm! Gertrude is buzzing along at a good clip on Samhain evening, heading towards a par-tay!

...when suddenly Art's casual hold onto Thistle's midsection as he rides behind her tightens alarmingly.

"I gotcha!"

His head lolls for a moment and grip slackens, his weight listing dangerously to one side. He mumbles something illegible over the rattling sound of the scooter.

Thistle brakes - gently to not toss him!

Nor wreck..

As they pull over, he thrashes a bit, and slides off to thud lightly on the ground, uninjured. He stares wide-eyed at something only he sees, then shakes his head, eyes focusing. "Where did it go??"

"What go? I didn't see anything... didja take something?"

"What? No... No, there was a horse, and trouble.. It was... no, it wasn't here. It was down by the crossroads, where the footbridge crosses the stream?" He is coming back to himself, but still looks baffled. "I could have sworn it was RIGHT in front of me... there was a feeling of... danger?"

Her eyebrows screw down as she considers this.

"Well, maybe we should check? Isn't Halloween like when ghosts come out and the veil is thin and all that dreck?"

"Maybe you saw some magic."

He is rubbing at his eyes. "If it's one of the Baron's horses in danger, then we really ought to... right?"

"I guess?"

"You feel good to hold on again?"

"Yeah, I think so. My head has cleared. Sorry about that." Art is more stable as he climbs back on again. "Do you think this is normal? Seeing stuff? Have you been seeing anything? Maybe it's a Sidhe thing..."

"I haven't seen anything. Don't have any magic, really, that I've seen. But sidhe are special, right?"

"Different." He corrects with a grin. "We're all special, right Miss Fix-it?"

"I.. I guess, sure."

"Let's go check it out!" Now that he's moved past the initial startlement of the... vision? Whatever that was... his curiosity is evident.

"Sure!" She straddles Gertrude, waiting for him to get on behind her.

If there's a tilt to her hip or curve to her back... well, it could be the moonlight.

If his cheeks color at all as he notices.. hopefully that is also lost to the dim of twilight! He climbs on, and for an awkward moment is more similar to the old Arty, as he hesitates, unsure where to put his hands. Art takes over again though, and soon he's perched and secured with a light grip of hands on hips.

Vrrrrrrrrrm!

Soon they are pulling up to the pathway that Art described, a rather scenic little area that leads to a grove that is quite nice for picnicking. During the day, that is. In the twilight, it's dim and spooky, mist rising from the stream that burbles merrily during the day, but is a more muted, ominous gurgle on Samhain eve.

"(*&@&.. looks like some Spooky Hollow shiese."

A rustling sound, and... Art whispers, "Look, look! That's the horse!!"

A lovely mare just around the bend of the stream. Her coat is a dark color that gleams like moonlight on still water, her eyes dark and expressive, and mane that flows around her neck. Slender and lithe, with good conformation, and a tender, kind and gentle look in her eyes.

She nickers softly, head lowered, and seems to be welcoming. Thistle has seen the same look on horses in the stable, a friendly posture, ready to be patted and stroked. Wouldn't it be sublime to ride upon such a lovely beast?

"Ohhh..." Thistle's spirals shimmer. "She's pretty."

Art looks at the mare in awe. "Is that one of the Baron's? You said that Knight Lavender introduced you to every horse..."

"I don't remember her, no."

"Hey, pretty girl." She clicks her tongue in a coaxing manner.

"She's... amazing..." Art starts to move towards the horse, and the mare coquettishly takes a step back into the stream. "I must have been mistaken... there's nothing dangerous here..."

Thistle may notice how the mare's coat gleams with almost otherworldly light, like a bioluminesence.

"Careful, there's water - could be slippery."

The nocker squints, making her 'kenning face.'

"I'm careful..." He says in a carefree tone, holding out a hand to the horse.

The mare takes another step back.

Something about this! Thistle knows WELL how chimera feel to her 'faery sense', and this horse doesn't feel like that, but also doesn't look 'normal'.

A couple of her little sillies flit over to chime and coo at the 'pretty pony' - and the mare snaps at one that gets too close - are those teeth pointed? But immediately after, another soft, enouraging nicker.

"Art, just.. just hold on a second?"

One of the sillies, a rather bright spark who had been making paint handprints earler, tugs at Thistle's hair with a shrill belling chime of warning.

"Something's fercacta."

"Fer-what?" Art stops and turns to glance back at Thistle and her little nuisances, only to have the horse suddenly lunge forward and clamp her jaws on his arm!

"ACK! What?!"

Pulling backwards, the mare is dragging the slight-framed boy into the stream. A splash, and what looks like a fin towards the rear of the horse?

"HEY!"

She grabs Art's other arm and digs her heels into the bank.

No longer lovely, the 'mare' that rolls her eyes at Thistle now has a cold and loveless gleam in the oceanic depths of her eyes.

"Leggo leggo leggo!" Art yelps, squirming - though with both of his arms in a tug-of-war, he's not able to to much more than splash as he tries to kick at the creature... but by some odd bit of luck, he lands a kick right in the chin of the beast which is sinking deeper into the stream than it should, by any rights be, and with a squeal of surprise, it releases his arm and sends the two tumbling backwards!

A stream of cursing as they both tumble!

The sound of hoofbeats, and suddenly another equine form leaps over the two teens sprawled on the riverbank, and crashes down into the stream in front of them, between the waterhorse and the fledges. They can feel the heat radiating off the creature's body as it lowers it's head and holds the mare at bay!

Both are roughly horse shaped... one of dark and ominous wrath as she thrashes in the shallows, but the new entrance is bright and fierce, though perhaps no less dangerous... and the flame-kissed steed that holds off the kelpie has an edge, in the wickedly pointed horn from the hellsteed's forehead.

"Oh. My. God." Thistle STARES, mouth agape.

The Never that fetched big-big-hot-pony looks VERY proud of itself as it buzzes around Thistle's head, awaiting praise.

The Kelpie hisses and thrashes, water sizzling as it splashes the hellsteed, but one step after another, it is backed further into the stream, not unlike Amalthea facing off the red bull...