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Ennis Del Mar [Brokeback Mountain] (quiet_cowboy) wrote in utr_logs, @ 2008-02-08 23:36:00

Who: Ennis and Trindle (cameo by wolves)
What: Chatting it up (in so far as Ennis is capable)
When: Today
Where: Ennis and Jack's ranch in Utah
Warnings: Ennis reaches a huge milestone


Somewhere on a small farm in Utah, there is a little green girl wrapped all in black standing at the edge of a farm and howling. This might seem strange to the passers-by, but what might seem stranger in the long run is that wolves are ... answering. Trindle soon has a gathering of three or four large wolves around her. She bows and begins to speak with them. Why are they eating the Man's sheep? He needs them to support his family.

The answer is, predictably, that they were hungry. She suggests, politely, perhaps another farm. Not this one. The conversation is a long one, though, because of the notorious politeness required when speaking with wolves. Hopefully nobody is going to come out and question her until the wolves have gone. Most people would be scared away by such a pack, after all. Then again, Trindle is half-Ozian and half-Quadling, so she isn't most people. It's about an hour later when the wolves finally begin to retreat.

Hard to say how long Ennis has been standing there. off a ways, watching. Perhaps the wolves, or even Trindle, have picked up his scent, but his scent is an integral part of the farm, since he's half owner. The show of the woman and the wolves is an interesting one. if he didn't know better, it seems the woman has been holding court.

Ennis isn't particularly scared of the wolves, but he is leery of getting too close. He wants until they have retreated, before approaching the woman in black. "I'm guessin' you must be Trindle? Cause otherwise, you'll be tresspassin'."

She turns around and ... is probably as startled as Ennis is. In fact, she starts to say something before she clamps her hand over her mouth firmly (a very green hand, at that). Once she's gathered herself, she nods shortly. "Yes, I am Trindle Thropp."

He would have to look like Father, wouldn't he?

"Green, as you promised." Ennis' eyes drifted over her. Had to be make up. Why anyone would want to paint herself green he'd never know. But it wasn't his to know, anyway, as long as she didn't try to paint him.

He offered his hand. "Ennis Del Mar."

Trindle takes his hand surprisingly firmly and shakes it without hesitation. "It's nice to meet you in person, Ennis. I did not expect you to look like this." All right, so it was a little awkwardly worded -- but how did you tell someone that they looked exactly like one of your parents?

It was puzzling. She wondered absently if Father's ... preferences would have transferred over to anyone with his 'face'. Hm. "You will be happy to know the wolves won't bother you again."

"What did you expect?" Ennis rubbed a hand across his face, pulling at his chin. He tilted his head, looking as closely as politeness would allow.

She arches her brow at him and blinks. Trindle's used to being examined, but from someone with Father's face it was ... unnerving. "Someone who did not look like my Father, to begin with."

That causes Ennis to jerk his head. "I'm not your father. I've two little girls. They ain't green." His tone was neutral. he didn't say things with intent to be rude, even if it may have seemed rude, after the fact.

Trindle nods. "I said that you looked like him, Ennis. You neither speak like him, nor have you asked about Papa - that tells me clearly enough that you are not he." Because Trism would certainly have asked about Liir by now, she's sure of it.

Ennis shrugged. "So, 'M I t'belive y'talk t'the wolves, then?" He'd been there long enough to see. Logincally, it didn't make sense. But neither did her green skin. And besides, he talked to the horses and the dogs. Kind of the same thing. only not.

Only if the horses and dogs talked back to him would it be the same, really. She shrugs her shoulders. "In my experience, you will believe what you like. I asked them to bother someone else if they got peckish."

"Peckish." Ennis repeated. Nodding, he looked off in the general direction the wolves had gone. "An' they tol' y'they would?"

Trindle nods her head. "Yes, they did. They're very polite and honest about things like that, so I do not think you'll have a problem again." She offers him a slight smile.

"Y'just...talk t'them?" Forgive him that he's having trouble wrapping his head around this concept.

"I learned to speak it from King Belgarion when I was growing up. Hunter and Wolf himself helped as well." Since that probably needs more explanation, she adds, "They're wolves."

Ennis' tongue slid across his bottom lip. "Right," he nodded. "If'n y'say so. Who'm I t'question?" He's still looking out to the horizon. "Can y'talk to all the animals, or jus' th'wolves?"

"Just the wolves, of course. I don't speak the languages of the other animals. I suppose I could have learned Rabbit, but I can't wiggle my nose terribly well." It's funnier, perhaps, because she's being completely serious.

"I talk t'my horses. They never seem t'listen." Ennis is being completely serious too. His eyes are dark and reflective, thoughtful.

She isn't a touchy person, but it's the man who looks like her Father. That changes this considerably. She bites her lip. "Is there something..." Trindle trails off. "Wrong?"

Ennis pulls his attention back to her, blinking his vision back into focus. "Nothin's wrong, no. I'm just thinkin'. Y'don't need a job, or nothin', do you?"

Trindle shakes her head. "I am a librarian in New York." The hours are fairly lax, though, and she is a little bored. "If you are sure nothing is wrong. I'm not terribly good with ... feelings, but."

Ennis nods. "Me an' emotions, we don't get on so well." Ennis would beat his fists bloody on a brick wall, than admit any kind of feelings.

She laughs. "Then you are more like my Papa than my Father." Which is ... probably a confusing statement, all things considered.

Given his recent conversation with the girls Reina and Sofia, about their daddy and papi, Papa and Father almost makes his head spin. "'S everyone 'round here queer?"

Her brow arches. "Ozians tend to be fluid about their sexuality. I think that most people here don't 'give a fuck', as the saying goes. Being dropped in from a vortex is a bit stranger than men loving other men." Duh, Ennis.

Ennis shakes his head. His gaze once more turns tot he horizon. "I ain't no queer."

That earns him a smile. "Nobody said that you were. I lean rather heavily toward men myself. Well, men and Endless, I suppose."

"Y'don't think it's wrong, then?" He needs clarification. Four year olds aren't quite an authority.

She snorts. "Papa and Father are perfect for each other. I don't see what's wrong with that."

"It ain't natural. Th'Bible tells us it's wrong. M'Daddy said it's a sin against God. Ain't nothin' right about it." His tense posture should indicate he doesn't believe what he's saying, but it's been drilled in to him, so that he has no choice but to adhere to it.

"I never grew up with a Bible in the house. Lurline-followers and ... I don't know. It's never been a problem for me. I'm sorry ... your father taught you that." Because she didn't think he believed it. She hesitated a moment before she brought a hand to his shoulder briefly. Just a little squeeze.

Ennis shakes his head. "It ain't natural. An' sometimes I hate him, for makin' me love him so god damn much." This is the first he's ever said anything of the sort out loud. His voice breaks, and he covers his face with his hands.

Trindle's movements are easier in situations like this. She shifts to wrap her arm around him lightly, resting her cheek against his upper arm. "I'm sorry." Forcing her beliefs on others isn't exactly something that she wants to get into a habit of.

Ennis' fisted hands dropped to his lap. "I need t'be tendin' m'horses." He doesn't need to be doing anything, at the moment. The horses can wait. His restlessness can't wait. He needs to do something.

"Okay. If you want, I can ... make you something?" Food, cooking. She can go inside and he can be restless. She knows he needs space - her Papa's the same way.

He's already moving away from her. "Y'cook better'an Jack?"

"I cook fairly well." She glances to the house and heads back.

He nods. "Ain't much t'work with." But he'd appreciate any effort. Jack would too, he's sure.