Freddie Morgan ✶ Arthur Pendragon (lordprat) wrote in thereincarnates, @ 2016-08-01 00:23:00 |
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Entry tags: | freddie morgan, garrett landry |
Who: Garrett Landry and Freddie Morgan
What: Freddie needs a little reassurance. Garrett’s happy to give it.
Where: Camelot Castle, the stables
When: Monday, August 1st 2016
Warnings: Enough fluff to smother in, plus a small sexuality crisis.
Being in charge of the stables at Camelot wasn’t quite being a knight, but Garrett wasn’t about to complain. There were benefits. He liked working with the horses, it was something that he knew how to do, almost in his sleep. Not that he’d try it in his sleep, of course. The horses knew when you weren’t at your best, and they’d take shameless advantage of it to try to get double feed, or special treats, if they thought they could get away with it. It was probably a lot like trying to manage a daycare, except your charges happened to be much larger than you, and it hurt a lot more when they bit. The day to day tasks of taking care of the stable, though, those were things that Garrett could do on autopilot, almost. Mucking stalls, feeding, grooming, it was all muscle memory at this point. If it was a larger stable, there would be someone else to help out, while he focused on the training. Since it wasn’t, Garrett got to do it all, which meant all the quality time with the horses that he could ever ask for.
The training itself was much less of an automatic thing, especially when it came to training the humans, instead of the horses. He was getting more comfortable with that, too, though, the longer he did it. Most of the groups he worked with had moved past basic horsemanship, now, and into more advanced riding, or basics of mounted combat. He’d still been able to try all his lessons out before he taught them, though, with Freddie as his ready and willing test subject… and now that she and Freddie were speaking again, Ellie would pop up along with him sometimes, too. Garrett didn’t mind that, exactly. He liked Freddie’s sister. He liked the way that Freddie’s sister got along with his sister. He still preferred to try out new lessons on just Freddie, though. He was comfortable with Freddie, like he’d never really been comfortable with any friend before. Maybe it was because of Lancelet and Arthur, but Garrett didn’t care why. He just liked having someone to hang out with that he could let down his guard with completely.
Not that Garrett wasn’t settling in, otherwise. It might not have been his Camelot, but it was still Camelot. He might not have been a knight, but he was still a part of it. Maybe even a valued part. After all, even though no one was quite sure how much use the horses were going to be, yet, when it came to actual use in combat, Garrett was the only one that knew how to train them. Besides, as many reincarnates from fantasy sources as he’d bumped into since he’d started working for Camelot, it really just made sense for them to all play to their strengths. For more of them than you’d think, in a modern age, those strengths were swinging swords at people from on top of a horse. Best of all, Garrett got to do what he loved, what he was good at, in the place he’d been homesick for since he’d become a reincarnate, and he got paid for it. If there was anything to help a guy settle into a new place faster than that, he didn’t know what it would be.
Garrett was in the middle of a nice break between sessions, enough time to cool the horses down, groom them, and get ready for the next group. He had more than enough time, of course, but there weren’t enough people in Camelot interested in mounted combat to require classes that were crowded close together, and all of them did have other jobs to do, too. They couldn’t spend all day in the stables. That was Garrett’s job. He wasn’t complaining, though. He had plenty of time to work with the horses on their own, teach a few of them new tricks, practice commands that none of his classes were advanced enough to work with yet, to make sure that the horses didn’t get rusty on them, or forget what they were supposed to be doing altogether. For the moment, though, he was taking a break of his own, water bottle in hand, sweat soaked shirt stripped off and draped over a post to have a chance for both him and it to dry. That was, if no one decided to nibble on it and cover it with horse spit while he wasn’t looking. Always a possibility.