Become a Different Person

Merida watched with a genuinely pleasant smile as Sitron advanced, leaning forward to gently pluck the apple up from her palm and chomp it up. Sucking her lower lip back into her mouth as the horse gave her a nudge to one of her arms before breaking out into an almost girlish giggle. Rebecca wouldn't have had to worry, Merida had a couple more apples stashed away in her bag later that she would have been offered. As it turned out Hans had a similar idea to give the little dog something to snack on as well, withdrawing a strip of jerky and offering it to her. The gesture was sweet and she found herself a little distracted before his questions finally dawned on her.

"Oh, aye! They do! My own, Angus, stays in them out back!" Merida answered quickly as if to catch up and recover from her delayed response. Giving a strand of her orange hair a whack with the back of her hand to clear her visage she continued.

"S'not far from here! Was jus' on my way back." she explained, before looking at Rebecca. "We both were. We.. work there. Both of us." she paused. Glancing at Rebecca with a slight frown. Well that wasn't technically lying, but what exactly did an inn and pub type of place offer for work in the way of dogs that they could use as a cover? They couldn't reasonably admit 'yes I'm in the Gilded Wings and I use their secret passages quite a lot!' Merida wracked her brains and decided not to expand on it. Instead she settled on a broad, if not proud, smile to play the convincing game.

"Yep!" she added, popping the 'p' at the end as she tucked her arms behind her back and laced her fingers together. She teetered back and forth on her heels and then frontwards a couple times.

As his fingers pinched the edge of the dried scrap of meat, Hans did wander if his impulsive choice to give the dog his future lunch was a good idea. In all honesty, probably not but seeing the look of want sparkle long her features was enough to pull at his frozen heart. The sudden yap caused a look of surprise to flush along his face whilst he watched the hound haul into a bi-pedal stance. Pale forest gaze was lock onto the spotted pooch it and was clear as his lips parted ever so slightly and the redness that tinged around his ears, he thought she was absolutely adorable.

Merida’s words weren’t ignored but he was mildly distracted by Rebecca’s display, a talking dog working at a tavern? He’ll believe nearly anything at this point as he was completely engrossed at the balancing act she was doing. Soon his lips curled into a massive and rather boyish smile, purely enjoying Rebecca’s dance and he was absolutely feeling like this was jerky well spent.

Sitron’s breath against his ear caused him to swipe his nose gently, grapping it with his palm and smoothing it over nicely. Sitron approved of this, then the jerky was definitely worth giving up. As Hans went to lower his arm to fully give the meat did Rebecca suddenly plunge downwards and took a dive. A look of horror stretched over his princely visage and he lurched forward to catch the hound but missed and witnessed her topple in vain. Gingers brows were anchored low into a frown, he was a bit concerned and he leaned forward to brush the dirt from her muzzle only to flinch backwards, embarrassed.

“Ah… Sorry,” he mumbled a bit, ultimately deciding touching her wasn’t a good idea before handing her the jerky. “Well earned,” came his previous hearty laugh before he turned his gaze back towards Merida with mirth brimming in their depths. “I think I’ll pay the place a visit, seems worth it if I can see more of you two,” lashed his silver tongue, smooth as ever. Finally sitting back up, he grappled around Sitron’s neck to assist himself back upright before brushing his knees off. He felt like a ruffian, a commoner within the presence of these people but for a moment he didn’t feel bad. “Do you care if I come with you girls to the tavern?” casually remarked the boy, “I don’t think Sitron would want to part just yet especially after that treat, huh boy?” prompted Hans, turning to press his forehead against the horse and ruffling his mane adoringly. It was easier to pet Sitron than it was Rebecca, it felt too exposed especially without his glove.

Merida nodded slowly, a simple smile upon her face as Rebecca played along perfectly. There was a slight intrigued quirk upon her brow as she claimed to be a performer, even tilting her head every so slightly to the side as she too watched with great interest as the little dog began her number. As she started Merida tried not to laugh, stifling it by clapping her hand over her mouth as she was unable to act convincing enough otherwise. Then came the marvelous twirl that had Rebecca land on her face and she inhaled a shrill gasp from behind her fingers. There was a moment of silence before the little dog sprung back to her feet.



She couldn't quite help it, Merida snorted audibly and ran her hand down her face as she laughed.

"Yeh'll perfect it soon enough, m'sure!" she encouraged Rebecca, finding great amusement in the fact both of them knew it was fake. Even more amusing that Rebecca could probably actually perform it at the Gilded Wings one day. Maybe she'd be able to sit down and watch. Her attention diverted to Karl as he asked if they could accompany them to the tavern and she glanced to Rebecca, as if for confirmation. She didn't see Rebecca giving any huffs about it so she nodded.

"Aye, as I said we're headin' there right now. We'd be happy to have yeh." she agreed. She then inclined her head to look at Sitron, a genuine smile touching her lips.

"How could I say no to tha' face." she chuckled, reaching up if he'd so permit her to give his soft chin a scratch.

The trodden prince kept his hand smoothed over Sitron’s trimmed mane, while it was growing out it still sported the intricate etchings of a royal cut. Aside from that, the horse’s gear was a bit posh and he squinted towards it in realization. While he was clad in the attire of commoners, his princely clothes were tucked into one of the bags; he couldn’t quite part with it or even his sword with his family’s crest. He was a fool with foolish sentiments, hailing from house Westegaard he was technically prestigious if not for the fact his family either despised him or ignored him. Now? He would be lucky to still be called ‘prince’ after the stunt he pulled.

Swiping his malachite eyes around, he regarded the girl and her dog with a smooth, coolness. They had no clue who he was and something about that was refreshing, they didn’t expect a single thing from him and oddly enough he didn’t either. These girls were probably ‘nobodies’ like him and the mere thought of hanging with his own kind brought a genuine smirk atop his lips.

Han’s thumb played with his exposed palm; to him he was very open if not for the fact he concealed his name. In all honesty hearing his father’s name was beginning to wear on him but it was his fault for lying. Perhaps it was karma.

“Thank you, Merida, Rebecca, you two are very kind,” more than what I deserve; he thought the last bit to himself. Taking the time, he skimmed the two idly, Rebecca was an entertainer while Merida seemed to be an archer and the mere realization caused him to perk up. “You use a bow?” prompted the male, his tone hinting being impressed, “I’ve have my fair share of archery but I tend to use crossbows now, my brother told me bows are outdated…” remarked the male with a frown, clearly indicating his displeasure. Whatever the case, Hans was fond of either instrument but of course, his brother ‘was always right’ and the thought irritated him a bit and he fumbled with Sitron's mane idly. 

Merida gave Sitron a fond smile as he nickered and responded pleasantly to her gentle scratches, giggling slightly with a wrinkle upon the bridge of her nose. Her gaze then shifted to Hans who's tone suddenly took a shift to that of interest, raising a brow as he spoke of his brother and crossbows. Merida's expression shifted, amused.

"Oh he did, did he?" she queried. A sly glance was spared to Rebecca, a conspiratorial smile upon her face that was borderline smug in nature. Rebecca, like most Gilded Wings members, wouldn't have missed her prowess with the bow. She was rightly proud of her abilities and did more than enough hunting to supply the Wings with meat for meals night to night.

"Aye well if yeh see yer brother sometime soon you be a lamb and send 'im my way. I'll show 'im a thing or two about what outdated things can do." she boasted cheekily. Merida was competitive, perhaps hungering for it a little more greedily than she might've if there had been someone closer to her age to compete with her at Dunbroch. Her brothers had been to young yet and the wee devils had little interest in archery. With that though she turned on her heel, gesturing to a side path.

"Inn is this way! We can make better time if we start walkin' now!" she said, pleasant and chipper.

With his arm casually draped against his horse’s thick neck, he led and was led alongside one another. Hans turned vivid herb-tinged eyes towards Sitron at the rather obnoxious puff of air he dispersed and he knew full well why. Hans even wondered why he mentioned his brother too, he hated them and they hated him. Maybe there was a part of him that still wished to be accepted into the family but, that would be a cold day. As Merida’s thickly accented voice spoke, he felt a true throb of pain within his chest at her casually speaking of said brother. It was his own fault but his expression probably looked horrified if one was looking at her wanting to meet them. Even Rebecca seemed okay with a competition so the lost prince swallowed quite audibly.

“Nothing is friendly with my brothers,” he darkly remarked, a shady look casting along his freckled features and a bizarre expression screwed atop his brows. He didn’t mean for the displeasure to seep through but he hated the mere thought of his family meeting these nice people and he gritted his teeth. “He’s just really competitive is all,” he then let off a fake laugh as his expression morphed once more to a strained, but cheery look, fingers pressing against Sitron as if struggling to sap confidence.

As Merida directed them to the inn, he eagerly followed, not realizing how fatigued he truly felt. Glancing towards Rebecca, he regarded her question with a brightening smile, perked up once more.

“A bow is considered primitive, a simple construction of a flexible piece of wood and string,” and he gestured towards Merida’s weapon, gaze lingering a bit atop the instrument as if still very interested before his gaze fluttered away to look towards the dog. “A crossbow is complex, at least compared to the makings of a bow. Its grooved wood with metal attachments to allow for a trigger, curved ‘bow’ shape head, and even a stirrup for easier loading. It’s almost like an automatic ‘hand-bow’,” his hand had drifted from Sitron so he may display his hands in mock a mock crossbow holding position. Technically there were larger variants and the light crossbow was what he used but he didn’t need to explain that. He actually had his crossbow with him but he didn’t feel the need to display it quite yet.

“I like both the crossbow and bow,” he finally admitted, his face glowing a bit.

Merida spared a glance over her shoulder at Hans as he suddenly took a quieter, more grim tone when speaking of his brother. The meaning didn't quite fall on her, and there was a quirk in her brow as she looked quizzical trying to figure out exactly why the mood seemed to have taken a certain dip. Frowning as he suddenly laughed it off she then sent her gaze surprisingly in Sitron's direction, raising her brow as if looking for answers from the speechless horse that she likely wasn't going to get. Regardless, there wasn't enough there for her to pry and ask questions and she instead cleared her throat and decided she needed to shift the topic elsewhere.

"I've three brothers myself," she shared suddenly, "wee devils. I'd best hope they aren't pickin' up swords or bows anytime soon." she admitted with a chuckle. It wasn't that she thought them too young, she'd gotten her greedy mitts on weapons as soon as she could back when she was no so different in age. It was purely due to the fact they could raise hell upon anyone easily enough without a weapon in hand.

As for Hans' finishing his explanation to Rebecca about the bow she slowed her step just slightly to walk in stride with the pair of them. Looking to Rebecca she wrinkled her nose with a slight smile as Hans' expressed that he liked both the crossbow and the bow.

"It's cheatin'." she summarized to Rebecca impishly as if to say that's what she got from Hans' explanation. Then, turning her smile on Hans with a smug smirk she stuck her tongue out at him. Merida was only teasing, she didn't think such things. A weapon was a weapon. As far as DunBroch sport and tradition went, however, that was an entirely different story.