Lord Westley Ryland strode across the ground outside of the Stable Yard, his brow deeply furrowed and his lips formed into a bit of a frown. It had been several days since he had been down here to see his once mighty steed, due to the hustle and bustle of the masquerade, but now that the celebration had calmed and the air was cooling, he had to admit that now was the perfect time for a ride. He could only pray that his steed wouldn't be pouting in the back of his stall thinking that Westley had forgotten him.

As he stepped up to the stable, he walked purposefully down the long aisle of sorts to where he knew that his stallion rested. He wore the simple black outfit that he had worn to the masquerade, simply because it was comfortable and he adored it, and showed no signs of annoyance at his recently cleaned boots becoming dirty once again. He had gone without his hat this early morn, therefore leaving his unruly dark curls to fall unceremoniously over his forehead. He looked rather disheveled, much as he assumed many would look this morning, most nursing hangovers and the like. 'Tis not my problem.

Finally Westley paused beside a stall, resting his calloused fingertips lightly on the edge of the gate in front of it. He peered into the stall, tilting his head slightly to the right, before he caught just the slightest glimpse of movement in the dark shadows. A smirk spread across his lips and he leaned forward slightly against the gate. "Malvado, no pouting. I'm here now." he crooned softly, lifting one of his hands to beckon to the stallion. The horse nickered softly before actually turning its head away from Westley as if he had not been seen.

The sheer absurdity of this action made Westley release a single chuckle from his throat before he took a step away from the gate and drew something out of his pocket. "Fair enough. Then you will have none of the apple I have brought you." Hesitation...and then the horse began to move slowly towards him, eyes resting on the red fruit in his hands. Charmed as he always was by his stallion, Westley extended his hand to the horse and allowed him to take the apple into his mouth. He stroked his hand down Malvado's nose, smirking contently at him.

Yes, Malvado, which was the Spanish word for 'evil', was quite the rambunctious horse in his younger days. No more, but Westley would eternally be fond of him.

Two minutes into a walk, and already Marianne's crème colored skirt was edged with dirt of the stable yard. She left her corridors in less than a moment’s notice; with nothing but her new companion, a small mutt she had purchased, which she had affectionately named Michou; and a small book of stories. The leash was firmly looped around Marianne’s wrist, she had never owned a dog, and hoped this was how it was done. The small dog bounced around excitedly, at ease in new places, which soothed Marianne quickly.

The putrid smell of equine and sweat filled Marianne’s nostrils, giving her a nauseous feeling. Marianne’s skirts made a small shuffling noise, as she rounded the corner to the Stable Yard. Her eyes, dark as night, though her heart was light as day; fell upon a young Lord. Slightly taller than her, he shared nearly her same traits, dark hair, tan skin. A small smile quickly fell upon her face. Walking over, she noted every detail of the mysterious stranger; and what seem to be his horse. “He’s quite magnificent, My Lord.” She commented softly, her delicate hand reaching for the powerful beast. Cooing the horse softly, Marianne’s fingers graced the nose of the horse. “What is his name?” She asked curiously.

So enthralled was Westley with his stallion that the approach of the lady in the stable was lost to him until she was nearly beside him. It was then that he turned his head to look at her, all semblance of a smirk or any sort of amusement fading from his face as soon as he noticed that this woman was no one he was familiar with. The small smile on her face did little to comfort him, as was evidenced by the neutral expression on his face. The only part of him that might have suggested a vague amount of amusement were his dark eyes, which sparkled constantly. Had she seen him before she entered? When had she entered? And your reputation is ruined immediately.

Regardless, when she complimented Malvado, Westley couldn't help but feel a small amount of pride surround him. He looked back at the stallion, who seemed quite pleased at the ministrations he was receiving from the young woman, and tilted his head a little farther to the side. To think, a few years ago, Malvado might have even bitten her. Now, however, the stallion was aging quickly, his personality aging right along with him. He was as happy as a puppy around strangers now. Westley shook his head slightly at this realization before realizing that the woman might find his few moments of silence oppressive. Delightful. He turned his head to look back at her to gauge if he could read her fae as well as he could read the thoughts of the other courtiers in the land before beginning to speak.

"Malvado." That was it. He reclined slightly against the gate, keeping his eyes on the woman's face, and set to studying her. At least she wasn't another blonde. He'd grown quite tired of running into those everywhere that he went in the kingdom. After a few seconds of staring at her face, he looked back towards his stallion, rather devilishly curious as to how this woman would respond to his limited conversation attempts.