Of Cats and Foxes in the Land of Horses (Closed)

[The Selkie]

Welcome, dear reader, to Of Cats and Foxes in the Land of Horses!
This RP is closed to myself and Krugeristan. You are welcome to read along for the ride, though.

Traverse International Airport
The name was not really fitting the actual structure: Two runways, one which was long enough for intercontinental flights, a few hangars, a small terminal and a fence. Nothing fancy or large.
Yet, it was one of the three major airports in the Free Lands. They were a small country and while smaller airfields for STOL-planes and amphibians were all over the place, major ways of getting around were horse, train and the own two feet.
The young man standing on the over-glorified airfield waited for someone: Her mother took in a new cub and today was the day, where he would visit Leas House. Gwen Banphrionsa of the Tribe of Cavan had a soft spot to her cubs, as a Clan Chief and mother she had to. Foreigners might call her a Grande Dame.
The young man, Tyran Banphrionsa of the Tribe of Cavan, only heard a description of the young man and worked from there. He seemed nice enough.
That he was supposed to particularly meet his older sister Fiona was a different story - he would be intimidated enough soon enough. For now, his quest was to welcome the Krugeristani in the Free Lands.
The young man, his chin like chiseled, brown-haired and with his mother's eyes, waited for their guest, wearing full marcach-armour, the one used for tournaments, half-cuirass, leather wear, a longsword at his side and a quiver with bow and arrows on his other. It was meant not to be shown off, but to be used in their contests and ceremonies, the odd scratch showed that.
He was not frowning as he looked for the plane carrying the newest cub.
He was actually smiling - by the descriptions he had from his mother, Karak Golahman was an interesting person.

[Krugeristan]

"How do I present myself, Commander?"

This was probably the tenth time the president had asked this all-too-familiar question. Commander Vershenov, Golahman's personal guard, wasn't sure if he wanted to reply or not. "Just be yourself, sir. Don't overthink everything."

Nodding slightly, Golahman took a breath before the plane landed, bouncing a little on the runway. There was a sudden rush of nausea, and Golahman vomited into the sick bag in front of him. Vershenov continued to stand there, almost expressionless.

The flight had been long, and Vershenov found that being with a panicked Golahman for twelve hours was enough to make him want to file his retirement papers, but he had been with the awkward blond, skinny man since he was elected, and he didn't want to retire, period. Helping Golahman stand, Vershenov followed him to the hatch, and kicked it open in his usual grumpy fashion. He jogged down the stairs, performed a right-face, then an about-face, and stood at attention at the base of the steps as Golahman walked down seconds later.

As Golahman stood in front of the Selkie party, Vershenov now clicked his heels, saluting his president, as was custom that a soldier always salutes the president when his back is turned. Now, they waited to be addressed and greeted, and Golahman was staring ahead, wringing his hands.

[The Selkie]

"How do I present myself, Commander?"

This was probably the tenth time the president had asked this all-too-familiar question. Commander Vershenov, Golahman's personal guard, wasn't sure if he wanted to reply or not. "Just be yourself, sir. Don't overthink everything."

Nodding slightly, Golahman took a breath before the plane landed, bouncing a little on the runway. There was a sudden rush of nausea, and Golahman vomited into the sick bag in front of him. Vershenov continued to stand there, almost expressionless.

The flight had been long, and Vershenov found that being with a panicked Golahman for twelve hours was enough to make him want to file his retirement papers, but he had been with the awkward blond, skinny man since he was elected, and he didn't want to retire, period. Helping Golahman stand, Vershenov followed him to the hatch, and kicked it open in his usual grumpy fashion. He jogged down the stairs, performed a right-face, then an about-face, and stood at attention at the base of the steps as Golahman walked down seconds later.

As Golahman stood in front of the Selkie party, Vershenov now clicked his heels, saluting his president, as was custom that a soldier always salutes the president when his back is turned. Now, they waited to be addressed and greeted, and Golahman was staring ahead, wringing his hands.

The 'Selkie party', namely Tyran and only Tyran, grinned.
The man, who just had descended from the stairs onto the runway, matched the descriptions given to him, to the letter, and he was nervous. His guard was not, but that was another story.
It was a rather spartanic ceremony, no state visit's welcome, so neither press nor officials or a military escort were present. Their wish for privacy for this matter had been honoured.
Their wish for good weather did not. It was not directly cold, but a certain chill was in the air, while the sun had to struggle through the light cloud cover. Forecasts said, that there was a high chance for rain during the night, the clouds already rolling in.
They would be at Leas House long before that, Tyran thought.
Tyran stepped forward, placing his hand over his heart and bowing his head slightly. "Karak Golahman? Welcome to the Traverse." He raised his head again. "You are already expected."

[Krugeristan]

"How do I present myself, Commander?"

This was probably the tenth time the president had asked this all-too-familiar question. Commander Vershenov, Golahman's personal guard, wasn't sure if he wanted to reply or not. "Just be yourself, sir. Don't overthink everything."

Nodding slightly, Golahman took a breath before the plane landed, bouncing a little on the runway. There was a sudden rush of nausea, and Golahman vomited into the sick bag in front of him. Vershenov continued to stand there, almost expressionless.

The flight had been long, and Vershenov found that being with a panicked Golahman for twelve hours was enough to make him want to file his retirement papers, but he had been with the awkward blond, skinny man since he was elected, and he didn't want to retire, period. Helping Golahman stand, Vershenov followed him to the hatch, and kicked it open in his usual grumpy fashion. He jogged down the stairs, performed a right-face, then an about-face, and stood at attention at the base of the steps as Golahman walked down seconds later.

As Golahman stood in front of the Selkie party, Vershenov now clicked his heels, saluting his president, as was custom that a soldier always salutes the president when his back is turned. Now, they waited to be addressed and greeted, and Golahman was staring ahead, wringing his hands.

The 'Selkie party', namely Tyran and only Tyran, grinned.
The man, who just had descended from the stairs onto the runway, matched the descriptions given to him, to the letter, and he was nervous. His guard was not, but that was another story.
It was a rather spartanic ceremony, no state visit's welcome, so neither press nor officials or a military escort were present. Their wish for privacy for this matter had been honoured.
Their wish for good weather did not. It was not directly cold, but a certain chill was in the air, while the sun had to struggle through the light cloud cover. Forecasts said, that there was a high chance for rain during the night, the clouds already rolling in.
They would be at Leas House long before that, Tyran thought.
Tyran stepped forward, placing his hand over his heart and bowing his head slightly. "Karak Golahman? Welcome to the Traverse." He raised his head again. "You are already expected."

Golahman took a breath, trying to appear more professional as he moved to address the other man. "Thank you . . . again . . . for allowing me to come here," he said, playing out each word in his head. "I . . . I know . . . I was expected . . . but . . ." The words got stuck. "Just . . . thank you." He forced out a smile, not sure if he should shake Tyran's hand, start walking, or just wait for instructions. The clouds were fitting, somewhat, as his nervousness gradually took over.

[The Selkie]

The 'Selkie party', namely Tyran and only Tyran, grinned.
The man, who just had descended from the stairs onto the runway, matched the descriptions given to him, to the letter, and he was nervous. His guard was not, but that was another story.
It was a rather spartanic ceremony, no state visit's welcome, so neither press nor officials or a military escort were present. Their wish for privacy for this matter had been honoured.
Their wish for good weather did not. It was not directly cold, but a certain chill was in the air, while the sun had to struggle through the light cloud cover. Forecasts said, that there was a high chance for rain during the night, the clouds already rolling in.
They would be at Leas House long before that, Tyran thought.
Tyran stepped forward, placing his hand over his heart and bowing his head slightly. "Karak Golahman? Welcome to the Traverse." He raised his head again. "You are already expected."

Golahman took a breath, trying to appear more professional as he moved to address the other man. "Thank you . . . again . . . for allowing me to come here," he said, playing out each word in his head. "I . . . I know . . . I was expected . . . but . . ." The words got stuck. "Just . . . thank you." He forced out a smile, not sure if he should shake Tyran's hand, start walking, or just wait for instructions. The clouds were fitting, somewhat, as his nervousness gradually took over.

Tyran extended his leather-gloved hand in the foreigner gesture, which came a bit awkward for him as he was not used to greeting like that.
"No problem, coileán.", he said with a grin, before he explained, "You should get used to being called coileán, Mister Golahman. It's a... term of endearment amongst us Selkie, meaning cub in English. Another one would be searrach, foal, but that one is usually reserved for children."
Tyran thought for a moment.
"We have many such terms, now that I think of it...", he said, more to himself then to Golahman.

[Krugeristan]

Golahman took a breath, trying to appear more professional as he moved to address the other man. "Thank you . . . again . . . for allowing me to come here," he said, playing out each word in his head. "I . . . I know . . . I was expected . . . but . . ." The words got stuck. "Just . . . thank you." He forced out a smile, not sure if he should shake Tyran's hand, start walking, or just wait for instructions. The clouds were fitting, somewhat, as his nervousness gradually took over.

Tyran extended his leather-gloved hand in the foreigner gesture, which came a bit awkward for him as he was not used to greeting like that.
"No problem, coileán.", he said with a grin, before he explained, "You should get used to being called coileán, Mister Golahman. It's a... term of endearment amongst us Selkie, meaning cub in English. Another one would be searrach, foal, but that one is usually reserved for children."
Tyran thought for a moment.
"We have many such terms, now that I think of it...", he said, more to himself then to Golahman.

Golahman nodded slightly. "Gwen has already established . . . that I'm a cub."

Vershenov was thinking that was hilarious, but he maintained a straight face as he followed his leader.

"So, um . . . I . . . What can I look forward to in this . . . Leas House?" Golahman asked, allowing his guard to stand next to him. "I know . . . Gwen wanted me to be introduced to her . . . her daughter . . . ?"

[The Selkie]

Tyran extended his leather-gloved hand in the foreigner gesture, which came a bit awkward for him as he was not used to greeting like that.
"No problem, coileán.", he said with a grin, before he explained, "You should get used to being called coileán, Mister Golahman. It's a... term of endearment amongst us Selkie, meaning cub in English. Another one would be searrach, foal, but that one is usually reserved for children."
Tyran thought for a moment.
"We have many such terms, now that I think of it...", he said, more to himself then to Golahman.

Golahman nodded slightly. "Gwen has already established . . . that I'm a cub."

Vershenov was thinking that was hilarious, but he maintained a straight face as he followed his leader.

"So, um . . . I . . . What can I look forward to in this . . . Leas House?" Golahman asked, allowing his guard to stand next to him. "I know . . . Gwen wanted me to be introduced to her . . . her daughter . . . ?"

"Her daughter.", Tyran confirmed and motioned for the two of them to follow him towards the terminal as a ground crew rushed up to meet the plane's crew for refuelling, maintenance checks and bringing the plane under a roof for a storm was coming. "My older sister."
He turned to the Krugeristani.
"Foreigner custom dictates, that I make you aware, that if you break her heart, I break your bones, but we Selkie usually take that as implied.", he explained with a grin, "I hope, such measures will not be necessary, though."
A beat passed.
"Anyway, Leas House.", he continued, "First, meeting the family, then... we'll see, what we can do until it's dinnertime. Mom's cooking, so be ready for a treat!"

[Krugeristan]

Golahman nodded slightly. "Gwen has already established . . . that I'm a cub."

Vershenov was thinking that was hilarious, but he maintained a straight face as he followed his leader.

"So, um . . . I . . . What can I look forward to in this . . . Leas House?" Golahman asked, allowing his guard to stand next to him. "I know . . . Gwen wanted me to be introduced to her . . . her daughter . . . ?"

"Her daughter.", Tyran confirmed and motioned for the two of them to follow him towards the terminal as a ground crew rushed up to meet the plane's crew for refuelling, maintenance checks and bringing the plane under a roof for a storm was coming. "My older sister."
He turned to the Krugeristani.
"Foreigner custom dictates, that I make you aware, that if you break her heart, I break your bones, but we Selkie usually take that as implied.", he explained with a grin, "I hope, such measures will not be necessary, though."
A beat passed.
"Anyway, Leas House.", he continued, "First, meeting the family, then... we'll see, what we can do until it's dinnertime. Mom's cooking, so be ready for a treat!"

"I swear on my religion's Bible that I will not break her heart. I just hope she doesn't break mine," Golahman said. He knew breaking Fiona's heart would be his worst nightmare; he just didn't know if he was going to neglect himself in the process of befriending her. "I am . . . very interested in meeting the rest of the family."

[The Selkie]

"I swear on my religion's Bible that I will not break her heart. I just hope she doesn't break mine," Golahman said. He knew breaking Fiona's heart would be his worst nightmare; he just didn't know if he was going to neglect himself in the process of befriending her. "I am . . . very interested in meeting the rest of the family."

"That's good.", Tyran said with a nod, "I would really hate to break your bones."
He was not only honest, but honest to a fault: He would indeed hate to break Golahman's bones, as it would prove to be no challenge at all, if he was not underestimating someone (again).
"As it is, though, the most of the family is still to be met.", he said, falling back a bit from leading from the front to Golahman's side. "My younger brother Glynn, Fiona, Dad and the... how did someone put it? 'The whole menagerie'."
Tyran snorted with amusement.
"You will meet a whole lot of animals here. We Selkie love our furred and sometimes not-furred companions." He looked over. "You can ride a horse, right? Mom said you could."

[Krugeristan]

"I swear on my religion's Bible that I will not break her heart. I just hope she doesn't break mine," Golahman said. He knew breaking Fiona's heart would be his worst nightmare; he just didn't know if he was going to neglect himself in the process of befriending her. "I am . . . very interested in meeting the rest of the family."

"That's good.", Tyran said with a nod, "I would really hate to break your bones."
He was not only honest, but honest to a fault: He would indeed hate to break Golahman's bones, as it would prove to be no challenge at all, if he was not underestimating someone (again).
"As it is, though, the most of the family is still to be met.", he said, falling back a bit from leading from the front to Golahman's side. "My younger brother Glynn, Fiona, Dad and the... how did someone put it? 'The whole menagerie'."
Tyran snorted with amusement.
"You will meet a whole lot of animals here. We Selkie love our furred and sometimes not-furred companions." He looked over. "You can ride a horse, right? Mom said you could."

Golahman could sort of perk up at that. Animals were a good thing. If people don't talk to me, I can always hide in a corner with one of their pets, he thought. "Yes, I can ride a horse. I look forward to it." He looked at Tyran, sweating and turning red. What do I say when I'm introduced to everyone?

[The Selkie]

Golahman could sort of perk up at that. Animals were a good thing. If people don't talk to me, I can always hide in a corner with one of their pets, he thought. "Yes, I can ride a horse. I look forward to it." He looked at Tyran, sweating and turning red. What do I say when I'm introduced to everyone?

"Wonderful!", Tyran said, unaware of the inner turmoil of the Krugeristani.
They arrived at the terminal, a low building of good and solid stone, nothing fancy, with a thatched roof. Windows looked out onto the runway or into the building, depending on the perspective, where the actual area was a little bit lower then the ground level.
Tyran entered with a self-conscious stride and left the doors open, striding down the three stairs into the hall, a warm light shining from the roof down onto the facilities - and turned right, away from the security post, who did not even spare him a second glance, to the duty-free café and the small bathroom.
"It will be a bit until dinner, so if you need a bite, a drink or to freshen up, now's your chance.", he explained with a nod towards the man behind the counter, who was already preparing a small pack of Scipeáil.

[Krugeristan]

Golahman could sort of perk up at that. Animals were a good thing. If people don't talk to me, I can always hide in a corner with one of their pets, he thought. "Yes, I can ride a horse. I look forward to it." He looked at Tyran, sweating and turning red. What do I say when I'm introduced to everyone?

"Wonderful!", Tyran said, unaware of the inner turmoil of the Krugeristani.
They arrived at the terminal, a low building of good and solid stone, nothing fancy, with a thatched roof. Windows looked out onto the runway or into the building, depending on the perspective, where the actual area was a little bit lower then the ground level.
Tyran entered with a self-conscious stride and left the doors open, striding down the three stairs into the hall, a warm light shining from the roof down onto the facilities - and turned right, away from the security post, who did not even spare him a second glance, to the duty-free café and the small bathroom.
"It will be a bit until dinner, so if you need a bite, a drink or to freshen up, now's your chance.", he explained with a nod towards the man behind the counter, who was already preparing a small pack of Scipeáil.

Golahman now just wanted to know where all the pets were. "I . . . um . . . I'm alright, I guess. Not that hungry, anyways." He glanced around, a bit of a habit he had whenever someone mentioned their home had animals.

Vershenov whispered to Golahman that he needed to use the restroom. Golahman let him go, leaving the president alone with the Selkie. "So . . . where's the family . . . and the pets?"

[The Selkie]

Golahman now just wanted to know where all the pets were. "I . . . um . . . I'm alright, I guess. Not that hungry, anyways." He glanced around, a bit of a habit he had whenever someone mentioned their home had animals.

Vershenov whispered to Golahman that he needed to use the restroom. Golahman let him go, leaving the president alone with the Selkie. "So . . . where's the family . . . and the pets?"

With the guard on the loo, Tyran and Golahman were alone - and the Selkie was a bit put off by the question.
"Except for the horses back home.", he replied slowly. His mother already told him, that Golahman was keen on company from furred animals, but he did not exactly think, that he would ask that soon, especially not after the impression he got on the runway. He was disappointed with himself.
He made a short pause.
"Listen.", he said, "Outside, a group of horsemen awaits us to escort us to Leas House. The best Marcach Glynn could get a hold of, so they are trustworthy. If you want to forego the whole ceremonial blabber and stuff, though, I have a friend, who owes me a few favours. We can slip away and make way to Leas House, being there within the hour." A beat. "What do you think?"

[Krugeristan]

Golahman now just wanted to know where all the pets were. "I . . . um . . . I'm alright, I guess. Not that hungry, anyways." He glanced around, a bit of a habit he had whenever someone mentioned their home had animals.

Vershenov whispered to Golahman that he needed to use the restroom. Golahman let him go, leaving the president alone with the Selkie. "So . . . where's the family . . . and the pets?"

With the guard on the loo, Tyran and Golahman were alone - and the Selkie was a bit put off by the question.
"Except for the horses back home.", he replied slowly. His mother already told him, that Golahman was keen on company from furred animals, but he did not exactly think, that he would ask that soon, especially not after the impression he got on the runway. He was disappointed with himself.
He made a short pause.
"Listen.", he said, "Outside, a group of horsemen awaits us to escort us to Leas House. The best Marcach Glynn could get a hold of, so they are trustworthy. If you want to forego the whole ceremonial blabber and stuff, though, I have a friend, who owes me a few favours. We can slip away and make way to Leas House, being there within the hour." A beat. "What do you think?"

Golahman took a moment to think, but that moment was lasting a while. "Um . . . I . . . I . . . I . . . I don't know. I really don't want to be put in front of people . . . so . . . we can go. Yeah. We can go."

[The Selkie]

Golahman took a moment to think, but that moment was lasting a while. "Um . . . I . . . I . . . I . . . I don't know. I really don't want to be put in front of people . . . so . . . we can go. Yeah. We can go."

Tyran nodded and waved to a girl in the café, which came over.
She was a short girl, maybe eleven or twelve or something around that, orange-blonde hair and blue eyes, a wide, toothy grin on her face as she went over to the young man, who kissed her on the cheek with a wide smile of his own.
"Hello, Mona.", he said, looking over to Golahman, explaining. "Mona here is the little Mudskipper, who will be responsible for pulling that ruse, which will get us out of here without the escort."
"Yep, that I will be! Hello!", she said and waved at the guest with a grin. "So you want me to tell Amy and Ida?"
"Exactly.", Tyran said, but he had a hand on her shoulder, biding her a moment's wait, both looking over to Golahman. "Any questions, coileán? Now would be the last chance!"
Plus, they needed to kill a bit of time until Golahman's guard came back from the loo.

[Krugeristan]

Golahman took a moment to think, but that moment was lasting a while. "Um . . . I . . . I . . . I . . . I don't know. I really don't want to be put in front of people . . . so . . . we can go. Yeah. We can go."

Tyran nodded and waved to a girl in the café, which came over.
She was a short girl, maybe eleven or twelve or something around that, orange-blonde hair and blue eyes, a wide, toothy grin on her face as she went over to the young man, who kissed her on the cheek with a wide smile of his own.
"Hello, Mona.", he said, looking over to Golahman, explaining. "Mona here is the little Mudskipper, who will be responsible for pulling that ruse, which will get us out of here without the escort."
"Yep, that I will be! Hello!", she said and waved at the guest with a grin. "So you want me to tell Amy and Ida?"
"Exactly.", Tyran said, but he had a hand on her shoulder, biding her a moment's wait, both looking over to Golahman. "Any questions, coileán? Now would be the last chance!"
Plus, they needed to kill a bit of time until Golahman's guard came back from the loo.

Golahman started to mentally shut down as more and more people were entering the scene. "I . . . I really don't know . . ." he managed to stutter. The masque of confidence had melted. His true nature was coming out, and he felt like he was going to burst into tears. Involuntarily, he was squeezing his gloves. He needed a kitten to hold. It seemed like his only security, and he didn't have it.

[The Selkie]

Golahman started to mentally shut down as more and more people were entering the scene. "I . . . I really don't know . . ." he managed to stutter. The masque of confidence had melted. His true nature was coming out, and he felt like he was going to burst into tears. Involuntarily, he was squeezing his gloves. He needed a kitten to hold. It seemed like his only security, and he didn't have it.

Mona, for her age, was a highly sensitive and smart kid.
She saw, that the strange man was uncomfortable with her around. She did not know, if he was just nervous around children or just nearly in tears because of something else. She acted on instinct, reaching into one of her pockets on the belt around her waist, taking out a small, stuffed toy.
A Star Lynx. Judging by the state it was in, it was a well taken care of stuffed toy, which looked at Golahman with a big, slightly goofy smile as he stood on Mona's extended hand.
"Here.", the little girl said, a small smile on her own face, "Take him - his name is Stuama."
It was as close to a cat as they were going to get at the moment, a small bit of kindness towards what she saw as a strange, yet funny man, who was nice.
Tyran smiled. "I'll go and see after the reserve horses. You know the way, kiddo?"
"Yep!", she replied.

[Krugeristan]

Golahman started to mentally shut down as more and more people were entering the scene. "I . . . I really don't know . . ." he managed to stutter. The masque of confidence had melted. His true nature was coming out, and he felt like he was going to burst into tears. Involuntarily, he was squeezing his gloves. He needed a kitten to hold. It seemed like his only security, and he didn't have it.

Mona, for her age, was a highly sensitive and smart kid.
She saw, that the strange man was uncomfortable with her around. She did not know, if he was just nervous around children or just nearly in tears because of something else. She acted on instinct, reaching into one of her pockets on the belt around her waist, taking out a small, stuffed toy.
A Star Lynx. Judging by the state it was in, it was a well taken care of stuffed toy, which looked at Golahman with a big, slightly goofy smile as he stood on Mona's extended hand.
"Here.", the little girl said, a small smile on her own face, "Take him - his name is Stuama."
It was as close to a cat as they were going to get at the moment, a small bit of kindness towards what she saw as a strange, yet funny man, who was nice.
Tyran smiled. "I'll go and see after the reserve horses. You know the way, kiddo?"
"Yep!", she replied.

Golahman gently took the toy, holding it and stroking it the way he did with real cats. The nervous redness in his face began to fade, and he looked at the girl. "Thank you," he said.

Vershenov returned. He was relieved, but he didn't show it on his face. In a way, he was flattered that they had waited for him, and he frowned a little at the sight of Golahman holding a stuffed animal. On the other hand, he was pleased, because most nations had looked at Golahman with disgust when he started to panic. The Selkie . . . were certainly different.

Glancing at his guard, Golahman said, "Alright, I guess we're ready now."

[The Selkie]

Golahman gently took the toy, holding it and stroking it the way he did with real cats. The nervous redness in his face began to fade, and he looked at the girl. "Thank you," he said.

Vershenov returned. He was relieved, but he didn't show it on his face. In a way, he was flattered that they had waited for him, and he frowned a little at the sight of Golahman holding a stuffed animal. On the other hand, he was pleased, because most nations had looked at Golahman with disgust when he started to panic. The Selkie . . . were certainly different.

Glancing at his guard, Golahman said, "Alright, I guess we're ready now."

Mona smiled, seeing the guest getting better.
Amy had been right - sometimes, something to cuddle was all one needed to feel better. Amy had also been right about another thing: A stranger was a friend, who you haven't met yet.
Speaking of which... As the other one, the guard, came back from the loo and Mister Golahman announced, that they were ready to go. Mona grinned.
Both Tyran and Amy trusted her with that and she would not disappoint them.
"Come! Follow me!", she said and went along towards the far side of the small building, past the police station there to keep the entry into the Free Lands orderly. The officers looked at particularly interesting spots on the opposite wall, the ceiling and the floor, far away from them as they went towards one of the fire exits.
The heavy, fire-proof door nearly proofed too much for the little girl, but she managed to open it - to the other side of the fence of the airfield, a small patch of asphalt and then the expanse of the Free Lands, represented by lush grass and rolling hills. One of them covered them from prying eyes from the entrance of the terminal.
Five horses and a young colt stood there - all alone, no Tyran in sight. And neither were Amy nor Ida.
Mona supressed a sigh as she walked out and turned to the guests: "Welcome to Oilean na mBeo, the Land of the Living!"

[Krugeristan]

Golahman gently took the toy, holding it and stroking it the way he did with real cats. The nervous redness in his face began to fade, and he looked at the girl. "Thank you," he said.

Vershenov returned. He was relieved, but he didn't show it on his face. In a way, he was flattered that they had waited for him, and he frowned a little at the sight of Golahman holding a stuffed animal. On the other hand, he was pleased, because most nations had looked at Golahman with disgust when he started to panic. The Selkie . . . were certainly different.

Glancing at his guard, Golahman said, "Alright, I guess we're ready now."

Mona smiled, seeing the guest getting better.
Amy had been right - sometimes, something to cuddle was all one needed to feel better. Amy had also been right about another thing: A stranger was a friend, who you haven't met yet.
Speaking of which... As the other one, the guard, came back from the loo and Mister Golahman announced, that they were ready to go. Mona grinned.
Both Tyran and Amy trusted her with that and she would not disappoint them.
"Come! Follow me!", she said and went along towards the far side of the small building, past the police station there to keep the entry into the Free Lands orderly. The officers looked at particularly interesting spots on the opposite wall, the ceiling and the floor, far away from them as they went towards one of the fire exits.
The heavy, fire-proof door nearly proofed too much for the little girl, but she managed to open it - to the other side of the fence of the airfield, a small patch of asphalt and then the expanse of the Free Lands, represented by lush grass and rolling hills. One of them covered them from prying eyes from the entrance of the terminal.
Five horses and a young colt stood there - all alone, no Tyran in sight. And neither were Amy nor Ida.
Mona supressed a sigh as she walked out and turned to the guests: "Welcome to Oilean na mBeo, the Land of the Living!"

Golahman and Vershenov followed Mona. Vershenov, knowing this wasn't his country, wasn't about to question the fact that such a young girl was leading them. At least she wasn't like the children of most leaders--emotionless, mentally groomed, unloved, a tool, a slave. She was more like Assad's children--happy, friendly, loved, intelligent. Therefore, Vershenov trusted her around his leader.

Golahman was a little excited to see they were riding horses to Leas House. It'd be better than riding stuffy limos with drunk government officials--as he'd experienced before. He could actually see, and wasn't surrounded by emotionless husks.

Land of the Living was certainly an appropriate title.

Looking at Mona, Golahman swallowed hard, unsure if he should wait for her, or choose a horse and get on.

[The Selkie]

Mona smiled, seeing the guest getting better.
Amy had been right - sometimes, something to cuddle was all one needed to feel better. Amy had also been right about another thing: A stranger was a friend, who you haven't met yet.
Speaking of which... As the other one, the guard, came back from the loo and Mister Golahman announced, that they were ready to go. Mona grinned.
Both Tyran and Amy trusted her with that and she would not disappoint them.
"Come! Follow me!", she said and went along towards the far side of the small building, past the police station there to keep the entry into the Free Lands orderly. The officers looked at particularly interesting spots on the opposite wall, the ceiling and the floor, far away from them as they went towards one of the fire exits.
The heavy, fire-proof door nearly proofed too much for the little girl, but she managed to open it - to the other side of the fence of the airfield, a small patch of asphalt and then the expanse of the Free Lands, represented by lush grass and rolling hills. One of them covered them from prying eyes from the entrance of the terminal.
Five horses and a young colt stood there - all alone, no Tyran in sight. And neither were Amy nor Ida.
Mona supressed a sigh as she walked out and turned to the guests: "Welcome to Oilean na mBeo, the Land of the Living!"

Golahman and Vershenov followed Mona. Vershenov, knowing this wasn't his country, wasn't about to question the fact that such a young girl was leading them. At least she wasn't like the children of most leaders--emotionless, mentally groomed, unloved, a tool, a slave. She was more like Assad's children--happy, friendly, loved, intelligent. Therefore, Vershenov trusted her around his leader.

Golahman was a little excited to see they were riding horses to Leas House. It'd be better than riding stuffy limos with drunk government officials--as he'd experienced before. He could actually see, and wasn't surrounded by emotionless husks.

Land of the Living was certainly an appropriate title.

Looking at Mona, Golahman swallowed hard, unsure if he should wait for her, or choose a horse and get on.

Mona smiled at the two men for a moment, took in air for further explanation, as the colt trotted forward, softly nuzzling and licking her cheek, which prompted Mona to laugh and pet the large animal before he kissed him on his cheek.
"So.", she said with a wide grin at the two guests, as she introduced. "This is Bromach." The colt gave a little neigh of friendlyness to the two strangers, as Mona held him by the reins. He was a beauitiful colt, fuchsia, with a white mane and a white mark on his snout, while his muzzle was black. Intelligent blue eyes looked at the world. His reins were simple, of sturdy leather and without any decorations, as was the saddle. At the saddle itself, on the right side, was a sheath with a short sword in it, while the left was reserved for an absent shield. It was clear, from simply looking at how muscled the colt was, that he was often ridden and trained, as well as from the well kept fur, that he was well taken care of. "I'll ride him."
She petted him on the side, before she went to the five larger horses and took the reins of two of them, leading them back to the two guests with a smile. The horses followed calmly and without a fuzz.
"This...", the girl motioned to the left one, a large stallion, black as the night was dark, a bit older, but still in top shape, both physically and taken care of. His brown eyes settled onto Golahman as he blew his nostrils. His reins were simple as well, his saddle, however, in deep blue, told by a few runes and a few latin letters, that he originally belonged to the Traverse Police Department. "...is Scoláire.
And this..." The girl looked over to the left, a brown-red mare with a white mane and a black muzzle, blue eyes shining like sapphires. Much like Mona's own Bromach, she was not decorated extravagantly, quite on the contrary, but it was clear from looking at her, that she was well taken care of and often ridden. "...is Dalta."
Mona let a beat pass.
"Pick one of those two, please.", she asked of her guests, "Both of them are calm and good horses, well trained, but Dalta has more then a bit of fire in her heart."
The other three horses watched the proceedings with watchful eyes.

[Krugeristan]

Golahman and Vershenov followed Mona. Vershenov, knowing this wasn't his country, wasn't about to question the fact that such a young girl was leading them. At least she wasn't like the children of most leaders--emotionless, mentally groomed, unloved, a tool, a slave. She was more like Assad's children--happy, friendly, loved, intelligent. Therefore, Vershenov trusted her around his leader.

Golahman was a little excited to see they were riding horses to Leas House. It'd be better than riding stuffy limos with drunk government officials--as he'd experienced before. He could actually see, and wasn't surrounded by emotionless husks.

Land of the Living was certainly an appropriate title.

Looking at Mona, Golahman swallowed hard, unsure if he should wait for her, or choose a horse and get on.

Mona smiled at the two men for a moment, took in air for further explanation, as the colt trotted forward, softly nuzzling and licking her cheek, which prompted Mona to laugh and pet the large animal before he kissed him on his cheek.
"So.", she said with a wide grin at the two guests, as she introduced. "This is Bromach." The colt gave a little neigh of friendlyness to the two strangers, as Mona held him by the reins. He was a beauitiful colt, fuchsia, with a white mane and a white mark on his snout, while his muzzle was black. Intelligent blue eyes looked at the world. His reins were simple, of sturdy leather and without any decorations, as was the saddle. At the saddle itself, on the right side, was a sheath with a short sword in it, while the left was reserved for an absent shield. It was clear, from simply looking at how muscled the colt was, that he was often ridden and trained, as well as from the well kept fur, that he was well taken care of. "I'll ride him."
She petted him on the side, before she went to the five larger horses and took the reins of two of them, leading them back to the two guests with a smile. The horses followed calmly and without a fuzz.
"This...", the girl motioned to the left one, a large stallion, black as the night was dark, a bit older, but still in top shape, both physically and taken care of. His brown eyes settled onto Golahman as he blew his nostrils. His reins were simple as well, his saddle, however, in deep blue, told by a few runes and a few latin letters, that he originally belonged to the Traverse Police Department. "...is Scoláire.
And this..." The girl looked over to the left, a brown-red mare with a white mane and a black muzzle, blue eyes shining like sapphires. Much like Mona's own Bromach, she was not decorated extravagantly, quite on the contrary, but it was clear from looking at her, that she was well taken care of and often ridden. "...is Dalta."
Mona let a beat pass.
"Pick one of those two, please.", she asked of her guests, "Both of them are calm and good horses, well trained, but Dalta has more then a bit of fire in her heart."
The other three horses watched the proceedings with watchful eyes.

Vershenov grinned at Golahman. "I like the black one, sir. Much like the ones we had to use when those riots at the parade--"

Golahman gently shushed him. "I don't want to discuss our domestic affairs here, Commander. You can ride the black one if you want."

Nodding, Vershenov approached Scoláire, smiling a little, leaving Golahman to nervously walk up to Dalta. He knew animals sensed fear, and he wasn't sure what horses thought when they sensed fear in a potential rider. He twitched a little, and glanced at Mona. "I . . . I . . ."

[The Selkie]

Mona smiled at the two men for a moment, took in air for further explanation, as the colt trotted forward, softly nuzzling and licking her cheek, which prompted Mona to laugh and pet the large animal before he kissed him on his cheek.
"So.", she said with a wide grin at the two guests, as she introduced. "This is Bromach." The colt gave a little neigh of friendlyness to the two strangers, as Mona held him by the reins. He was a beauitiful colt, fuchsia, with a white mane and a white mark on his snout, while his muzzle was black. Intelligent blue eyes looked at the world. His reins were simple, of sturdy leather and without any decorations, as was the saddle. At the saddle itself, on the right side, was a sheath with a short sword in it, while the left was reserved for an absent shield. It was clear, from simply looking at how muscled the colt was, that he was often ridden and trained, as well as from the well kept fur, that he was well taken care of. "I'll ride him."
She petted him on the side, before she went to the five larger horses and took the reins of two of them, leading them back to the two guests with a smile. The horses followed calmly and without a fuzz.
"This...", the girl motioned to the left one, a large stallion, black as the night was dark, a bit older, but still in top shape, both physically and taken care of. His brown eyes settled onto Golahman as he blew his nostrils. His reins were simple as well, his saddle, however, in deep blue, told by a few runes and a few latin letters, that he originally belonged to the Traverse Police Department. "...is Scoláire.
And this..." The girl looked over to the left, a brown-red mare with a white mane and a black muzzle, blue eyes shining like sapphires. Much like Mona's own Bromach, she was not decorated extravagantly, quite on the contrary, but it was clear from looking at her, that she was well taken care of and often ridden. "...is Dalta."
Mona let a beat pass.
"Pick one of those two, please.", she asked of her guests, "Both of them are calm and good horses, well trained, but Dalta has more then a bit of fire in her heart."
The other three horses watched the proceedings with watchful eyes.

Vershenov grinned at Golahman. "I like the black one, sir. Much like the ones we had to use when those riots at the parade--"

Golahman gently shushed him. "I don't want to discuss our domestic affairs here, Commander. You can ride the black one if you want."

Nodding, Vershenov approached Scoláire, smiling a little, leaving Golahman to nervously walk up to Dalta. He knew animals sensed fear, and he wasn't sure what horses thought when they sensed fear in a potential rider. He twitched a little, and glanced at Mona. "I . . . I . . ."

Mona handed the reins to the guard without a second thought. He appeared to know, what he was doing.
She was not going to ask about the domestic affairs mentioned by either of them.
The black stalion allowed himself to be taken easily, blowing his nostrils once and trotting forward - he was a police horse, it was normal for him to have many different riders. He looked at Vershenov calmly and without any fear.
If one looked into his eyes, one could see, that he had seen some stuff in his time, which would break human minds, yet he was perfectly fine.
Dalta, on the other hand, was a teaching horse later used as a breeding mare. She, too, was used to many different riders, including beginners, who were usually afraid of the big animal because they were usually far smaller then Golahman.
She was a bit insecure, but Mona held her reins firm.
The girl looked at Golahman. "Hold out your hand, palm open, for her to smell.", she recommended.

[Krugeristan]

Vershenov grinned at Golahman. "I like the black one, sir. Much like the ones we had to use when those riots at the parade--"

Golahman gently shushed him. "I don't want to discuss our domestic affairs here, Commander. You can ride the black one if you want."

Nodding, Vershenov approached Scoláire, smiling a little, leaving Golahman to nervously walk up to Dalta. He knew animals sensed fear, and he wasn't sure what horses thought when they sensed fear in a potential rider. He twitched a little, and glanced at Mona. "I . . . I . . ."

Mona handed the reins to the guard without a second thought. He appeared to know, what he was doing.
She was not going to ask about the domestic affairs mentioned by either of them.
The black stalion allowed himself to be taken easily, blowing his nostrils once and trotting forward - he was a police horse, it was normal for him to have many different riders. He looked at Vershenov calmly and without any fear.
If one looked into his eyes, one could see, that he had seen some stuff in his time, which would break human minds, yet he was perfectly fine.
Dalta, on the other hand, was a teaching horse later used as a breeding mare. She, too, was used to many different riders, including beginners, who were usually afraid of the big animal because they were usually far smaller then Golahman.
She was a bit insecure, but Mona held her reins firm.
The girl looked at Golahman. "Hold out your hand, palm open, for her to smell.", she recommended.

Golahman, still in a nervous state, held out his hand. He sort of wished Gwen or Assad was there, and he almost felt bad about the amount of time he was wasting being afraid. In fact, he was more afraid of himself than the horse. He tried to smile a little, but it hurt.

[The Selkie]

Mona handed the reins to the guard without a second thought. He appeared to know, what he was doing.
She was not going to ask about the domestic affairs mentioned by either of them.
The black stalion allowed himself to be taken easily, blowing his nostrils once and trotting forward - he was a police horse, it was normal for him to have many different riders. He looked at Vershenov calmly and without any fear.
If one looked into his eyes, one could see, that he had seen some stuff in his time, which would break human minds, yet he was perfectly fine.
Dalta, on the other hand, was a teaching horse later used as a breeding mare. She, too, was used to many different riders, including beginners, who were usually afraid of the big animal because they were usually far smaller then Golahman.
She was a bit insecure, but Mona held her reins firm.
The girl looked at Golahman. "Hold out your hand, palm open, for her to smell.", she recommended.

Golahman, still in a nervous state, held out his hand. He sort of wished Gwen or Assad was there, and he almost felt bad about the amount of time he was wasting being afraid. In fact, he was more afraid of himself than the horse. He tried to smile a little, but it hurt.

Softly, Dalta moved her hand forward, nudged the hand to get her nose on the palm and smelled.
She smelled fear. She smelled insecurity. She smelled loneliness. She smelled a small fire in his heart.
She was satisfied, nudged his hand further, so that it came to rest on her muzzle, neighing lightly. Her eyes fixated onto the human, sparkling a bit.
Mona smiled. "I think, that you can now mount her."
She willed the more pre-pubeschent part of her mind down, hiding a giggle as she reacher her hands out with Dalta's reins.