@caelvstis
As expected of Combat Riding—there were horses.
Reminiscence surged throughout the sword upon seeing the animals. Yamanbagiri bordered between the line of love and hate when it came to chores with them: Love for the dividing difference between him and that sword; hate for the uselessness he was at his duty, almost sympathetic for whoever was his assigned partner.
Fingers threaded through the thick, yet soft tresses; earning a huff or two from the creature. With calloused hands guiding its reins, they both strayed away not too far from the class. One foot slipped into the stirrup, the other kicking his weight off the ground and—with ease—over the horse’s back. As he shifted for a more comfortable position (and to free his cloak), he soothed his new friend with a gentle head rub.
Although, it must’ve sensed his dormant fear, which was soon exposed as the horse whinnied and lifted its front hooves into the air—breaking into a gallop.
❝ H-Hey—! ❞
Arms flew around the animal’s neck—out of both support and horror. Yamanbagiri opened his mouth, but words were robbed as another whine resounded. To pile onto his demise, a blurred figure stood in line of sight of the animal’s spree. Mustering all he could, he screamed at the top of his lungs.
❝ MOVE!! ❞
