The gloom of the castle had not been the only reason that drove the young Lorraine to seek an activity outdoors. In truth, the lightening of his pockets had placed limitations on him that drove him to enjoy more of his healthier hobbies. Still, he sighed with each brushing of his family’s horse. The mare nibbled on his sleeve happily, familiar with his care as she was and eager to go for a trot. Ferdinand smiled at her sweetly, bumping forehead to forehead before leaving her to go retrieve the saddle from its perch.
“Good afternoon,” Ferdinand eyed him as the man spoke. His impossibly clear blue eyes immediately ignited an interest in the young Lorraine and suddenly he found himself thanking the lightening of his pockets for this day. “I shall provide you a horse if you’ll do me the honor of your company good sir,” he smiled, careful not to be too forward… just yet. “I was just about to head out myself, though I cannot promise to be an efficient riding companion. I have not ridden these grounds yet you see.”
Ah, scheiß drauf. He thought, as he watched the sunlight slide about the man’s sharp cheekbone. “Although, I must confess I wouldn’t be averse to getting a little lost if I’m not alone.”
Ferdinand lifted the saddle though a stablehand had rushed to try and help. Perhaps Ferdinand could have behaved more nobly by not lifting a finger, but Liebling was one of his favorites and it had been too long since he had last ridden with her. He placed the saddle on Liebling and instructed the stablehand bring and saddle another horse.
“Shall we? Uh…” he let the question travel through the silence, eager to hear the man’s name and wondering how he could have possibly not seen this gorgeous man before though they were staying in the same castle. “I am Ferdinand de Lorraine, and this,” he took the reins from the stablehand and led them towards the Russian man, “is Fritzchen, a very fine horse with the misfortune, much like all the King of Germany’s horses, of being named by me.”
The gentleman’s manner of speech admittedly caught Pyotr off guard. It was more than kind and less than careful, and despite himself, it entertained him tremendously. Of course he should have pinned the fellow for something of a rake. No man would miss his chance with a face so full of youthful charm and handsome confidence. Still, not entirely sure if he wished to encourage such behaviour just yet, he played almost ignorant, only shooting Lorraine a sly, suspicious look from the side, though he nonetheless accepted his proposal - not that he was given much chance to refuse it.
“I would be glad of your company, sir. Though it may be that we shall both be lost together. It is my first time riding these grounds as well,” he admitted. He looked again to the man - Lorraine, he had said - and smiled wryly. “As long as you can keep up, we shall do well with one another.” And he had said he wouldn’t encourage him. How quickly that pretence had vanished.
“Belski,” he stated when prompted. It was curious that he chose to saddle his horses himself. Feeling a little useless himself, Pyotr could only watch and amuse himself. From what he had seen, it was uncommon for westerners to trouble themselves with such tasks. Though he had revealed himself a German, aspersions were still cast on his precise birth and rank. Even with that unidentified, the young man inspired Pyotr to wave the stablehand away in kind and prepare the horse himself, taking the reins Ferdinand leant him and taking a few moments to inspect the creature.
It was too easy to laugh at such a joke, self-deprecating as it was. “Fritzchen?” He echoed. After a pause to think, he shook his head. “What does it mean, dare I ask?”