Action Log: Morning of the 19th.

[brosif]

Characters: The horse formally known as Sif
Open? Yes!
Where: Schwanheim or the woods, depending on the time.
When: Morning of the 19th.
What: The magic peddler gave Sif a very special hat. Too special.
Warnings: Sif is an angry horse, yo.

In the village of Schwanheim, there is a horse in place of a prince. Her color is lovely – a deep, rich brown. Her temperament is not. She runs through the city, vision blurred, knocking over whatever lies in her way in an attempt to leave the village walls. There is a bandage around her front left Fetlock, but it covers no wound.

Being in the city enrages her. Sights and sounds are filtering into her mind in a way she is wholly unused to. She thinks of the face of a peddling man and is enraged further. She will find him.

Comments

It is the MOST okay!

[brosif]

Sif has spent a lifetime avoiding stillness. When she needs to clear her head, that clarity lies in action. When she thinks of her death, she thinks in fire. Not stillness.

That is what running through the ghost is like – being incased in stillness. Horse and human alike rebel, trashing back violently.

\o/

[consultmybooks]

And the unwittingly bonded ghost is caught up in her thrashing, her attempts at escaping him. Giles would like nothing more than to back away from this beast, but the invisible lead that seems to have sprung up between him won't let him get more than a few feet away. And every time her hooves connect with him, for an instant the world goes utterly black and his consciousness is switched off.

Dizzied and distressed in his own right, Giles will nevertheless try for both their sakes to soothe the horse when he has five seconds together of awareness, staying as far back as he can, albeit not far enough.

[brosif]

Trying to run from a presence that she cannot escape, that envelopes her wholly in a minute and then frees her in the next, wears the mare down. Were Sif fully cognizant, she would have put an end to this. But her senses are overwhelmed with the simplest of thoughts. Run.

Eventually, she can do it no more. The horse stills, catches her breath, waiting to be overtaken again.

[consultmybooks]

He has no breath to catch and no muscles to tire, but Giles nevertheless comes out of the struggle feeling as though he's just been trampled by a horse. Panting out of memory, more than anything, he nevertheless sits down heavily at Sif's hooves and waits for the world to come back into proper focus.

Once it has, he glares up at the mare.

"Finished, then?"

[brosif]

The bodiless thing will not leave. There is a lack options, here – the horse would flee still, but parts of her mind that are human are pressing to present more rational options.

She stares down at the specter. Not charging, for now.

[consultmybooks]

And the specter looks back up at her. Finally, trusting that the rampage seems to be at an end, Giles gets back to his feet and begins to pace around the horse, trying to gather the best assessment he can from a distance. "What's got you in such a state, then? Um, besides me."

Horses are traditionally very fond of the undead, the unnatural, or the supernatural, a category which Giles has found himself very firmly placed in.

He finally spots the bandage at her flank. "Hm. That might explain it. I, I suppose you must still be in pain."

[brosif]

The Aesir, on the other hand, keep dead things where they belong. Burn the bones away to nothing, remember them in song, greet them someday in Valhalla. They are not meant to walk the same earth.

The horse stomps her hoof on the ground. There is no pain, no broken bone.

[consultmybooks]

Obviously no pain, no sign of damage or distress. Giles frowns, thinking hard on how best to approach the situation further. Perhaps a stone in a shoe...?

Then he realizes that the horse just stamped her injured leg in response to his musings that said leg might be injured. Horses are bright animals, of course, but...

...hm...

Well, it's worth a shot. Giles looks back at the horse and asks, as politely as he can, "I don't suppose you'd let me check your shoes, would you?"

[brosif]

The mare seems to consider it a moment.

She holds her leg out – if he approaches too quickly, she is likely to flee again. If he inspects the leg, he will find nothing wrong with it. Sif was injured as a human, but not as an animal.

[consultmybooks]

Giles thankfully knows better than to approach a spooked horse quickly...especially when he's the one at least partially responsibly for setting it on edge. He approaches carefully, leans in just a bit, enough to see that there is no damage.

But it's at least partial confirmation for his growing suspicion.

"You're rather clever, aren't you? I might almost think you could understand me."

[brosif]

The horse is stuck in a half place – guided by an animal’s instincts and flashes of a human’s mind. She does not respond to Gilesson’s inquiry, nor does she flee.

This close, he may be able to something else strange about the animal: a derby hat, of all things.

[consultmybooks]

It takes much too long for Giles to actually notice the hat, but...really, who expects to see a derby hat on a horse? There are things even Giles doesn't expect to find in a situation.

Getting a proper look at it, of course, is going to require getting as close as he can to Sif without actually passing through her again.

A derby hat on a horse...

"Do you mind if I take a look at that?"

He means for her to shake it off, maybe, or drop it on the ground.

[brosif]

He is too close -- the animal parts of her mind take over, and the horse jumps back with a warning cry.

In doing so, the hat is slightly loosened.

[consultmybooks]

If he could only reach out and grab the damn thing...well, Giles could reach out and grab the damn thing. As it stands, reflexes kick in, and - seeing the hat shift - he nevertheless makes an attempt, which will of course bring him back into conjunction with the horse. "W-Wait, hold on..."

[brosif]

His presence, again, spooks the animal. It reels back, sharply.

But the hat reels with it and tumbles to the ground. Slowly, the horse changes into a woman. A very naked woman, with very wide eyes.

.../victory dance~

[consultmybooks]

Giles, for his part, follows the arc of the hat as it falls. He makes to go after it as it drifts innocently to the ground, then remembers himself, and curses under his breath.

Only then, about three seconds later, does he think to look back at the...

...not a horse.

Giles gives a yelp of surprise and whirls around so that his back is to Sif. "Um, s-sorry."

Because his plan worked or because boobies?

[brosif]

She is outside of the castle grounds. She is naked. She has just been a horse. She doesn’t need to kill him, he’s already dead.

Sif whirls around as her body settles into human form. She feels absolutely wretched. But she does not know this man, and the sweat on her brow and very pale skin are the only hints he will have as to her discomfort.

“Where is the nearest town?”

Eh, neither. That was for me. Giles had no plan, and has very little to do with boobies.

[consultmybooks]

...where is the nearest town?

Giles risks actually looking about, taking in their surroundings when before his attentions had been entirely occupied by the horse dragging him about like a dog. It's only in the very far distance that spots a blob that might be Schwanheim, and Giles points to it.

"Um, I think it might be that way."

XD

[brosif]

It is a long walk, but she is likely enough to come across a homestead or two along the way. Thankfully, her name here is credit. Enough gold will buy clothing, if not silence.

“Then that is where I go.” She blinks, a pause too long after her words. All of her memories are muted, and she suspects they will remain so for awhile longer.

“You are familiar to me.”

He is a man who does not get out much.

[consultmybooks]

"A-Am I?" It's been a strange morning for Giles thus far, but a very quick and brief glance back at Sif prods his memory into flipping the right card before he looks away again. Giles has a good memory. It's served him well, in the past. "Um, yes. I, I suppose I am. We spoke...only a few hours ago, I think. About the, the difference between acting because of someone and, and acting for them. I'm...only just arrived here, i-if that's any help."

[brosif]

"Yes." Right -- the nervous ghost man. "I apologize. The last few hours are a bit..."

Well.

"I was a horse."

[consultmybooks]

All the more nervous now, although no more or less ghostly.

"I, um, I noticed. I think it must have had something to do with..." And here he casts about again, searching for the hat, before spotting it laying innocently a few yards away. "That. Um, the hat. When you managed to shake it off, whatever was keeping you in that shape s-seemed to dissipate." A moment of thought, and then he asks with real curiosity: "Are cursed items a common occurrence in this place? Suppose it would, um, fit the theme, at the least."

[brosif]

She could kick herself, were her stomach not already doing the deed for her.

“Too common. That hat was given to me by a peddler. I’d intended the mages to examine the hideous thing, but it found its way onto my head before I had a chance."

She takes a deep breath – changing bodies is not kind on one’s disposition, and the past few hours have quite literally been her idea of hell. But this specter is a stranger and she has no intention of baring herself further before him.

...aside from the baring she is currently doing.

“I have taken you far from the castle grounds. For that I apologize, Gilesson.”

[consultmybooks]

"Yes, um, well. I'm...not entirely certain how that happened, actually, so your apology is accepted, miss."

The most distressing part of the encounter had been being charged through and kicked in some cases quite literally apart, and reforming was proving to be utterly nauseating. But that hadn't been within Sif's control either, and so he doesn't hold it against her.

"Besides, I'd h-have come out this far eventually, in any case. A-And, um, 'Giles' is fine, by the way. I'm...not sure I caught your name, during our last conversation."

[brosif]

“I am the Lady Sif of Asgard.”

He was no townsperson – she preferred her real name.

“I would offer a hand, but I suspect that my limbs have already run through you enough, this day."