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Ugh. Preacher wriggled her hand between her skin and shirt, frowning as the wet material pulled reluctantly away from her skin. Sighing, she let go and it slapped noisily back. It had been just her luck that the sky had opened up, releasing sheets of water just as she headed out. Preacher hadn't even been carrying a cloak. Her hair straggled around her face and she twisted it up and away from the nape of her neck, although it was still unpleasantly heavy. She didn't hate the rain necessarily; but she hated being wet. At least the boots issued with the trainee's uniform were relatively water-proof, which was easily the greatest idea the military had.

Humming softly, she grabbed the feed bags. Might as well do the easiest bit of barn duty first. "C'mon Billy-boyo. Ya want some food?" Deftly, she looped the bag of oats around his head. Bill was a world-weary horse, she thought, scuffing her boot against the door of his stall. He was also absolutely huge, carry a 5m titan huge. But maybe that was a slight exaggeration. Chuckling, she patted the star on his forehead. Preacher was still kind of wary around horses. After all, they were so very large and she... well, she wasn't. Suddenly, one of the barn cats flashed around her ankles and Preacher twisted, almost falling into a stall. Catching herself, she groaned. That twist had made her wet shirt even more apparent. Plus, goose-bumps were starting to prickle up her arms and across the tops of her shoulders.

She couldn't deal with this anymore. Preacher dropped the feed bags, sighed and began to wring out the bottom of her shirt, pulling it gingerly up and away from her stomach. Just then, the barn door shifted open and she turned, shirt hem still held high in one hand. "Hello! Thought it was jus' me n'-" Oh. Oh no. Perhaps it would've been better if she had been assigned to barn duty alone. She froze, a frown forming on her face.

Oh, she thought. That was how he was going to play it. Stupid, idiotic Axel had been ignoring her for days, ever since he'd said all those horrible things about wanting her to go back to the slums. Preacher had liked it better when he was angry with her, or yelling, or just... something other than this whole treating her as though she were air. She'd been invisible for so long: one of so many brats in the Eastern Alleyway; and she didn't want to feel like that again. To feel as though she wasn't a real person. Abruptly realized she still held her wet shirt up with one hand, she let go with a loud slap. Her face flushed, but the heat of it was a little welcome. Shivering briefly, she bent down and grabbed the feed bags, and walked to the stall across from Trotto's.

"Oh, Neighbelline, it's jus' so sad, pathetic mebbe, that some people are afraid of ya! You're so sweet, sweeter than some people." Here she sighed, injecting a deliberately wistful tone. Neighbelline whinnied and Preacher backed up. But the horse was only after her feed bag. "T-that's right, horsie. Instead of oats, ya should use those big teeth ta take chunks outta rude people. Wouldn't that be right nice?" Preacher made some obnoxious, kissy noises at the horse, stroking it gently and a bit nervously. Her yellow eyes slid across the barn to Trotto's stable, where Axel was working hard.

Inwardly, Preacher seethed. He wouldn't even talk to her, not one bit. Apparently, even a horse was better than her for the oh-so-great and golden Axel. It was a depressing thought and Preacher debated kicking the wooden boards of the stall.

"Oh, Neighbelline, did ya hear tha wind howlin'? Sounded like it was comin' from right inside this barn. How annoyin'. Such a whiny wind. Why, dear horsie, ya think mebbe some people would know that feedin' ya makes ya all calm-like iffin certain pansies are afraid. Tch." In a dramatic movement, Preacher flung out of her arm. She fully intended to lob a feed bag over to Axel, er, to Trotto. Preacher told herself it was because she needed to get the horse fed. Instead, she watched it sail in a graceful arc and... thwack. The bag of oats hit him directly in the head.

A horrified giggle escaped and she clapped one hand over her mouth. Luckily, the bag was tied off, so Axel remained mostly oat-free. But his expression as it hit him... oh, she couldn't help it. She giggled again.

Walls, what the hell was the man rambling on about? Whatever it was, it didn't sound complimentary. He had never ever asked her out, that was for sure. Not that she would've said yes anyway; Axel would just do it to make fun of her. Preacher huffed noisily and led Neighbelline very very carefully to the empty stall next to her. Grabbing a shovel, she set about mucking out Beighbelline's stall. "Hmm, Neighballine, you're so beautiful; you shouldn't listen to the stallions around you. Especially not the rude ones who would only ******** ya n' run off like arseholes. Ya can do so much better'n foul horses like Trotto over there, ya ken? Horses like Trotto would only make ya cry. Hmmmmmph."

As she bent to lift out another shovelful of muck, her hair finally wriggled free. Surprised, she dropped the shovel, barely missing her foot. Preacher cursed anyway. Shoving both hands in her hair, she arched her back, shaking it out behind her where it fell heavily past her hips. Muttering darkly, she palmed a bit of leather cord from her pocket and set about tying it back up. It was a two-arm job. At least her shirt was drier now although her white pants were still wet. Thunder crashed outside. "Neighbelline, I gotta tell ya," Preacher began conversationally. "...dun be fooled by horse like Trotto with their good looks n' muscles n' such. Lies n' flattery n' insults. Don't believe 'em." she whispered fiercely.

Preacher was painfully aware of exactly how ridiculous they were - no, he was being. Axel was being absolutely petty and silly. It was to be expected, she thought sadly; he hated her. No! Not 'sadly', she chided herself. Anything bit sadly. After all, she hated him too. But even so, her eyes followed him hotly as he moved around the stalls. The man was everything she wasn't, and wasn't it natural for opposite to repel each other? But he made such a big show of stretching, muscles rippling under his shirt. When Preacher spoke again, her cheeks were slightly flushed. From anger.

"Neighbelline, Trotto doesn't deserve you; he looks down on ya! You can do so much better, even iffin ya appreciate a nice whinny. Ohhhhh, weren't there that lovely stallion in town? All big n' dark n' handsome n' better than Trotto. What was tha name?" Preacher paused, leaning on her shovel. The stall was mucked out, her hair was finally retwisted and she tapped one slender finger against her lip as if in deep thought. "Oh, right! Henri-Hayrick. Ya dun need Trotto - there's scads of other, better, smarter stallions."

Preacher sauntered out from the stall on the quest for fresh hay. Heading over to Axel's hay pile, she sidled up near him, brushing up against him as though he were nothing. Warm nothing, she though acerbically. She stole some of his hay, lightly hip-checked him and began to freshen up Neighbelline's stall.

Aha! Axel had, at long last, finally looked at her. It was with a sharp glare, of course, but... Preacher shrugged, rolling her shoulders. The glare was better than nothing. Axel could hate her, could despise her (and he did), but she would not let him ignore her. One navy-colored brow crept upwards as he spoke. A wet saddle blanket? There were no blankets even near them... had he gone mad? She stomped around as she finished throwing hay into the stall and headed back towards the noble Neighbelline.

"Neighbelline, I was athinkin', mebbe you should go n' eat Hayrick's oats n' more. Show him a right good time." This was ******** childish and ridiculous and Preacher was done. Everything Axel said, everything he did just riled her up inside until she couldn't see straight, couldn't even think straight.

Preacher couldn't stand it anymore, couldn't stand him. The hay fork dropped out of her hand with a loud clang. Seething, she marched up to him. One hand grabbed his shoulder and whirled him around, her fingers like talons, the other latched onto his chin, twisting his head towards hers. Walls, but he would look at her and stop ignoring her! Preacher realeased his shoulder and poked him squarely in his chest, her own heaving with anger and frustration. Faint stubble poked into his fingers. "You... you...." She jabbed her finger into him forcefully, but.... somewhere, Preacher could've sworn she heard a giggle. She froze, eyes going wide.

Shakuntala hadn't meant to eavesdrop. She really hadn't, but when that little chuckle echoed from the core of her throat, she knew she was found out about.

The barns and stalls of the horses had become almost like a second home to the seventeen year old. She frequented the place daily not just out of duty, but a general want to be amongst the horses she now considered close friends. It was a great location to escape the hustle and bustle of camp life (which usually consisted of sharp yells from the higher-ups and jaunty laughter from her fellow trainees of the most inhumane jokes) just to relax and unwind.

On this particular thunderous day or whistling gales and wet earth, Shakuntala was to the very back of the barn tending to Velvet, the rickety old mare she had grown the fondest of. She had kept to her own for what she estimated to be half the day before an exchange of voices alerted her. The copper-skinned girl tried to keep her mind concentrated on grooming Velvet, but her attention averted with each reply from Preacher to Axel and vice-versa.

Never before had she heard such a ridiculous conversation.

Back and forth, back and forth, things about a Trotto, a Neighbelline, and a Hayrick -- Huh? Hayrick? -- were thrown between the two faster than a ball amongst a group of eager children. Behind the withers of Velvet, Shakuntala's maroon eyes flicked across to the navy-haired girl and her blond companion and back to her as she pressed her mouth to the mare's velveteen hide to choke back her want to laugh aloud. However, she couldn't hold it for long, and a short giggle followed by a muffled snort sounded from her location. Her eyes drew wide and she cupped her mouth into the palm of a gloved hand.

Oh goodness...

The Semblance of Unity

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