Amielle watched, baffled, as Aela, Ria and Vilkas crowded around Barbas, petting him and dropping scraps of their dinner on the floor for him.
In all her days, she had never seen such a commotion as the one that erupted when she stepped into Jorrvaskr with Barbas in tow. They'd all stood up and crowded around him immediately, giving him strokes and food. Amielle just edged around them, bemused, and took a seat at one of the long tables. Then she noticed Farkas wasn't there and her heart sank. She tapped her fingers on the table idly and stared at the food before her. Then her eyes raked over the crowd again. Still nothing.
She sighed and poured herself a goblet of wine. She drank deeply as the others fussed around Barbas still, laughing and chatting. She envied them sometimes. They were all so...normal. Her upbringing had left her bereft of the ability to simply sit and chat with others. Instead, she had learned how to laugh at things she didn't find funny, make polite conversation with strangers and make friends with people she hated. She didn't really know how to deal with people she actually liked.
Then the door swung open and Farkas wandered in, Torvar following behind, nursing a cut on his left forearm. Amielle felt her breath catch in her throat when Farkas spotted her, smiled and made his way to her. She sat up a little straighter, her Imperial ladies training kicking in. She remembered the words of her etiquette teacher; a prim, wiry haired woman with thin lips.
'If you find yourself catching the attention of a man and wish to keep it, remain cool and calm. Be polite and ladylike. Take an interest in his opinions and only offer yours if he asks.'
Amielle smiled to herself as Farkas sat on the seat to her left, his huge shoulder brushing against hers. 'I shouldn't think asking him to take his shirt off qualifies as polite. Shame.'
"That a dog?"
His question broke her out of her lusty daze.
"Yes."
"Oh." He took a drink of ale. "Why's it here?"
"I'm just...taking him home." Amielle winced at her poor answer. "I'll be leaving in the morning."
"Right."
She eyed him for his response. Did she detect a slight slump in his shoulders when she said she was leaving so soon? Or was it just blind hope?
She tore her eyes away from him and glanced back over to Barbas. She saw him rolling around on the floor having his belly scratched by Ria. Vilkas was chuckling and still feeding the dog ham, while Aela stood, smiling; Barbas stretched out over her feet. Amielle was about to leave them to it when she realised that Barbas' head was tilted at an odd angle. In fact, now she looked closely, she realised that he must have a view...up the skirt of Aela's armour.
She whistled loudly and shrilly, catching the attention of everyone in the hall. There was a moment where everyone looked at Barbas and expected him to obey his mistress' call. After a slight pause, he rolled onto his four paws and slunk over to her, his eyes giving her a peculiar dog version of a glare. She glared back and he came to a stop next to her, leaning against the empty chair to her right.
The others all settled after that, sitting around the long tables and continuing their usual evening routine of food, drink and stories of adventures past.
F!DB/Farkas + Barbas: A Dog's Loyalty 2/?
"Oh, you're so cute. Yes you are! Yes you are!"
"Such a handsome boy!"
"Here! Give him some meat."
Amielle watched, baffled, as Aela, Ria and Vilkas crowded around Barbas, petting him and dropping scraps of their dinner on the floor for him.
In all her days, she had never seen such a commotion as the one that erupted when she stepped into Jorrvaskr with Barbas in tow. They'd all stood up and crowded around him immediately, giving him strokes and food. Amielle just edged around them, bemused, and took a seat at one of the long tables. Then she noticed Farkas wasn't there and her heart sank. She tapped her fingers on the table idly and stared at the food before her. Then her eyes raked over the crowd again. Still nothing.
She sighed and poured herself a goblet of wine. She drank deeply as the others fussed around Barbas still, laughing and chatting. She envied them sometimes. They were all so...normal. Her upbringing had left her bereft of the ability to simply sit and chat with others. Instead, she had learned how to laugh at things she didn't find funny, make polite conversation with strangers and make friends with people she hated. She didn't really know how to deal with people she actually liked.
Then the door swung open and Farkas wandered in, Torvar following behind, nursing a cut on his left forearm. Amielle felt her breath catch in her throat when Farkas spotted her, smiled and made his way to her. She sat up a little straighter, her Imperial ladies training kicking in. She remembered the words of her etiquette teacher; a prim, wiry haired woman with thin lips.
'If you find yourself catching the attention of a man and wish to keep it, remain cool and calm. Be polite and ladylike. Take an interest in his opinions and only offer yours if he asks.'
Amielle smiled to herself as Farkas sat on the seat to her left, his huge shoulder brushing against hers. 'I shouldn't think asking him to take his shirt off qualifies as polite. Shame.'
"That a dog?"
His question broke her out of her lusty daze.
"Yes."
"Oh." He took a drink of ale. "Why's it here?"
"I'm just...taking him home." Amielle winced at her poor answer. "I'll be leaving in the morning."
"Right."
She eyed him for his response. Did she detect a slight slump in his shoulders when she said she was leaving so soon? Or was it just blind hope?
She tore her eyes away from him and glanced back over to Barbas. She saw him rolling around on the floor having his belly scratched by Ria. Vilkas was chuckling and still feeding the dog ham, while Aela stood, smiling; Barbas stretched out over her feet. Amielle was about to leave them to it when she realised that Barbas' head was tilted at an odd angle. In fact, now she looked closely, she realised that he must have a view...up the skirt of Aela's armour.
She whistled loudly and shrilly, catching the attention of everyone in the hall. There was a moment where everyone looked at Barbas and expected him to obey his mistress' call. After a slight pause, he rolled onto his four paws and slunk over to her, his eyes giving her a peculiar dog version of a glare. She glared back and he came to a stop next to her, leaning against the empty chair to her right.
The others all settled after that, sitting around the long tables and continuing their usual evening routine of food, drink and stories of adventures past.