[mounted archery] forced* fun

"This will be fun, okay?" Sabela's voice is quiet as her fingers move skillfully through Marrow's mane. Maybe she was trying to convince herself, more than the stallion. For what it was worth, he was still standing almost lazily in his stall for the weekend. It's early, and Marrow isn't a big fan of that. Mostly asleep, hip cocked, lip hanging. Really, quite relaxed. If there's something to be said about the massive black stallion, it's that he's environmentally stable. Rock solid and resting, perhaps it's better that he sleep for as long as possible. Sabela does what she can to steady her shaking hands, brushing through Marrow's mane until it shines.

Carefully plaiting it, it's more self-soothing than anything else. The Patron's voice was quiet too, for now. Left alone in her own head, Sabela almost doesn't know what to do with herself. It's methodical, the way she works through her grooming routine. Marrow all but sleeping in the dimly lit stall, though he does reach down to knock over her bucket of supplies each time it's moved. Right, can't let his girl get too comfortable. Sabela sighs, doesn't bother righting it. Simply going through the motions, working Marrow's coat to a shine. "If nothing else, you'll be the prettiest bastard they see today." Grinning, she weaves orange ribbons through his black mane and tail. Festive.

Orange saddle pad, gleaming black tack, they really do look good. "Right, this is meant to be fun. No big deal." Running her hands over his shoulders one last time, she almost expects the Patron to speak up. Still, nothing. Taking a deep, steadying breath-- and she's interrupted by Marrow reaching around to untie her hair from its equally tidy plait. "Really, we're doing this right now?" But the giggle is unmistakable. At least he knew how to take her mind off things. It's a completely foreign discipline today, for both of them. A fun show. They know how to have fun.

The warmup is a blur. At least Marrow doesn't spook at the sound of arrows hitting practice targets. That's something Sabela could rely on. Deep, steadying breaths as they lope wide circles around the ring, she would do her best to release some of the tension they both carried. Marrow was wound tightly, now that he was fully awake. Every step lengthening, enjoying the crisp fall air. Beneath his hooves, the light leaf cover that had blown in on the breeze crunched pleasantly. The soft sounds of oiled leather and Marrow's breathing are a stark contrast against it, and everything would work in harmony.

Laying eyes on the course, both horse and rider go wide eyed. Marrow, to his credit, is completely locked in. Neck arched, gaze gleaming. Dark eyes fixating on the path ahead. Locked, loaded, ready to be a menace. Sabela clutched the borrowed bow with shaking hands, settling into her saddle. Steadying herself, making sure her seat is correct. As she found the proper balance, Marrow finally relaxed. Let go of some of the tension through his shoulder and neck. Yeah, that was much better. "We have this under control." Her voice is a whisper to the dark horse, finally applying just the gentlest leg pressure.

Without a second thought, Marrow takes off. Head low, gaze burning. Sabela lifts the bow as the first target comes up, nocks an arrow, and pulls back to the corner of her lips. Letting go, she barely has time to watch the arrow sail wide. Marrow doesn't let up. Instead he moves faster, pushing himself down the straight away as he trusts his handler to make up for that misstep. The Patron though? It wasn't taking any chances. The voice that echoes through Sabela's skull would have been enough to make anyone else jump. Really, she's accustomed to it by now.

"Now," it comes through. Harsh, clear, ringing through her skull. A voice that could have been here to aid her sooner. Though she didn't necessarily trust the Patron, it wasn't like she had a choice. Marrow, to his credit, remained steady. Through arrows flying from her bowstring, through the remainder of the course. Every beat in his gate is unflappable, comfortable. He wouldn't push farther than a canter, feeling that perhaps the girl wasn't ready. No, not with a bow in her hands. Marrow was taking good care of her, whether Sabela realized it or not. Through whatever the Patron would bring, he knows his job. He would do his job-- clear the course, bring her back in one piece. Sometimes that's easier said than done.

Though a stiffer wind kicked up, there was nothing that could shake him. Dirt and leaves flying beneath his hooves, Marrow would move with startling efficiency. Everything about him a finely tuned machine, muscles rippling beneath his dark coat. Laser focused, despite Sabela's shaky aim. With the Patron to fix the timing, perhaps she had hit more targets than initially planned. Truthfully? Both were so distracted by the stress of it all, Sabela didn't know exactly how many targets she'd taken out. Her Patron never quieted, though it was an admittedly shitty coach. A harsh tone, a lack of appreciation for Marrow and Sabela both. Almost bitter resentment, like it had to do everything itself. By the time they reach the end of the course, Sabela was exhausted, bordering on dazed. Marrow still held his head high, flashy as ever.

Finally releasing the breath she'd been holding, the girl is quick to slip down from the large stallion's back outside the ring. He's gentle with her, perhaps realizing that she needs the softness too. Holding the mischief at bay for a moment, Marrow would allow her to breathe. Bridle carefully tugged from behind his ears, bit falling from his mouth. Ah, that was better. He could be trusted to lead with the reins around his neck, at least now that they were clear of other horses. A sense of accomplishment stretched between the two of them. Hanging in the space with a modest pride that couldn't be bought. Maybe they had done alright, after all.