"You spend a lot of time down here in the stables."
Working a knot out of the creature's mane, Aubrie peered over the bog unicorn at Blackwall. "I do. It's either that, or arguing with nobles and diplomats and merchants." Her eyes flicked back down to the matted orange mane, fingers working slowly to avoid hurting the horse.
He chuckled. "I can't blame you for avoiding that."
"I also happen to like it here," Aubrie admitted, giving up on the knotted mane and running her hand along the smooth, leathery skin of the creature. "Not just the horses, either – it's quiet, there's a heartwarming lack of rubble or building materials, and the company isn't bad, either."
Without looking up from his carving, Blackwall gave the barest smile. "I'm not certain if you're talking about me, or that thing."
"This thing just needs a good home," Aubrie countered. "It's very sweet, unlike that mare you've taken a liking too."
"What's wrong with her?" Blackwall asked defensively, joining Aubrie in the outer part of the stables. He crossed his arms. "She's a purebred courser, straight from Orlais."
"Well, she's moody, for one," she pointed out as she ran her fingers across the bog unicorn's nose, careful to avoid the sword. "And stubborn."
"We've gone out riding twice this week, and she hasn't given me any trouble."
The creature rubbed its head against Aubrie's shoulder in response to her affection, knocking her off-balance and giving her an idea. "Prove it, then," she challenged. "I was just about to take our newest steed out for a quick stroll through the mountains."
He considered the question for a moment, running a hand experimentally over the bog unicorn's neck. "I certainly could think of worse ways to spend an afternoon."