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There was some advice that should be taken with a grain of salt. Or not taken at all, to be honest.
All her life, Priscilla looked up to her brother Raymond — well, it was Raven, now. Despite their separation at a young age for reasons Priscilla did her best to ignore, that had not changed. So she couldn't be blamed when walking around the stables at her equine shelter, pulling gloves from her hands, and finding Raven in a compromising position with a blonde. Although she was quick to backtrack and narrowly avoid slipping in the mud of the stables, the sight was burned into her memory.
It was scandalous, but nothing too scandalous, really. Raven's arms and legs had been a cage around the slighter frame of the blonde in a gesture that felt equal parts silly and intimate. As she brushed her horse, Valentin, she thought about it. There was no way that she could, or would, ask Raven about it. He would probably be mortified she had even seen it, and then try to brush it and her off. The distance between them was already a gulf that she was trying to bridge — that would be one way to burn her progress to ash.
As time passed, and Priscilla did not see Raven do such a thing again, her memory of it faded. There were moments when she was reminded of it, particularly when walking through the living room of their home and glancing at the television to the anime that Raven was watching. In the show, a tall orange haired boy held his arm above a brunette in a gesture not too far off of what she saw her brother doing.
Flushing as red as her hair, Priscilla scurried to the kitchen to splash cool water on her face and shake the memory from her mind.
It did not fully dislodge, however. Instead, it took root, and gave her an idea.
"Thank you for coming, Heath." Priscilla smiled as she nudged Valentin with her knees to turn back for the stables. "I know you prefer the cooler days." Not to mention he was not much a fan of the travel to Etruria from Bern. Mountain roads could be treacherous no matter the time of year.
"Thanks for having me," Heath responded, swaying precariously on his horse. He was not bad at riding, but seemed to be more fit to ride something that wasn't a horse. It was hard to place, but Priscilla thought he would be better suited riding a dragon in the skies.
It was silly fantasy. Maybe he should be a pilot. That would make crossing the mountains easier…
"Today, I think you're ready to brush Hyperion down."
Heath wobbled more on the horse, affectionately named Hyperion. "You think so?" he echoed, sounding unsure. The last time he tried, he had done something wrong and suffered a nip to the hair for it. The white streak in his hair remained uneven, the ends split from the sharp teeth that Hyperion had used to berate him. Though it had been a long time by now, Priscilla wondered why he kept that one part short and uneven while letting the rest of his hair grow like a forest on his head.
Well. It lended to his handsome appearance.
Priscilla cleared her thoat and smoothed her thumbs against Valentin's reins. Her horse shook his head, casting a baleful look behind him as if sensing the pooling embarrassment that came with a crush in his rider. "Yes, I think so," she said, avoiding the discerning gaze of her horse. "You remember what happened last time you made a mistake… so I think trying again will be in your favor."
The grimace on Heath's face belied how little he believed her. Still, he heaved a full-body sigh and slid his gaze away to the swaying grass of the fields they had been trotting around for hours. "…if you say so," he said, "then I will try."
Priscilla was shorter than Heath. To be fair, she was shorter than most people, which was often forgotten as she liked to parade around on Valentin when talking to people. Her equine sanctuary was a sanctuary for herself as well, giving her confidence she might not have had otherwise.
As she nudged Valentin toward Heath where he was putting Hyperion into her stall, she caught sight of her horse's bombastic side eye. "Shhh," she murmured, hands impossibly tight on the reins. "I-I will give you plenty of sugar in your oats, later." Whether Valentin understood the bribe or not didn't matter; he still obeyed her body movements and direction.
"Shouldn't you be brushing yours down?" Heath asked, gingerly tugging the bit from Hyperion's mouth. Hyperion immediately swiveled to take a long drink of lukewarm water from the trough nearby.
"Yes," Priscilla nodded, "but it's easier for me to… supervise this way."
For a long moment, Heath stared up at Priscilla. So long was the moment that she began to feel the flush crawl up her neck and cheeks, singeing her ears. Her grip would have tightened more on the reins if possible. Somehow, despite the very massive desire to turn her head and gaze away, she sat tall and firm in her saddle. "Go on…"
"Right," Heath muttered. Priscilla was surprised to notice his own skin was a little darker shade of blush. He pat Hyperion's neck, moving to the hooks to hang up the bridle and find the brush that was needed for the horse's tousled mane.
That was her chance. There was no better opening.
Priscilla unhooked her boot from Valentin's stirrup, swinging herself in an obviously-practiced motion to plant it and her hands on either side of Heath. The wood of the stables creaked, sawdust and hay falling down from the planks and cracks. A cobweb broke somewhere, wafting in the faint breeze between termite-eaten slats.
Heath spun, back flat against the wooden wall. There was a little thrill in Priscilla's body, a pleasant tremble at having successfully mimicked her brother, caught Heath off guard, and did it all without falling.
If she could have, she would have knocked on the very wood she was bracing herself against with Valentin's assistance. The horse must have decided sugary oats were not worth this foolish display of his rider, and promptly walked out from under her. The thrill of joy at surprising Heath and making a bold first move became a squeal of terror as gravity grabbed at her with vicious hands.
The free fall felt like it took hours for impact.
It was only seconds.
Heath's reflexes were second to none. He may have been awkward on a horse and a little wary of mountain road driving, and maybe his hair was a nice snack for any number of horses at the sanctuary. He had a past that clearly shadowed him and pushed him to seek this sort of therapy, but whatever it was, it did nothing to dull his body and gentlemanly spirit.
This was what Priscilla thought when she first saw Heath and spent time with him amid the group he came with.
This was what Priscilla thought when she opened her eyes slowly and realized she had not gracelessly fallen into the dirt of the stables.
"Er." Heath cleared his throat from somewhere above her. Raising her head, Priscilla nearly gasped at the closeness of their faces. Suddenly the knees she sat on and the arms that secured her from her topple were heavy, warm, and sending that flush up her neck to the tips of her ears. Goosebumps crawled along her flesh under her riding garments; she wrung her hands together, not knowing what to do or where to put them. Blushing himself, but managing to keep his expression composed, he asked, "Are you all right?"
"Ah," Priscilla's shoulders hunched. "I should be asking that of you." She closed her eyes with a little sigh. "That was terribly rude of me, wasn't it?"
Another voice pitched in before Heath could manage to answer.
"I'd be careful about how you answer that."
Priscilla winced as Heath retracted his arms immediately. Her graceless tumble succeeded as she landed on her rump in the hay, dirt, and dried horse dung.
"I'll be your partner for your sessions now." In the entryway of the stables stood Raven, arm wrapped around Valentin's neck as he pat the side of the horse's face.
Traitor, Priscilla feebly thought. I'm never giving you sugar oats again.