SPN: Collared, part 2
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When Kaz and their owner come back, hours later, it’s turning dusky outside, the sun starting to settle down for the night. He can see the tips of the trees through the bars at the top of his pen, and the sky is slowly turning into a stunning watercolor, casting the last lingering leaves into dark shadows.
He’s dozing again, the sounds of the stable muffling into a generic white noise that’s oddly soothing, when he hears the solid noise of the large horse passing his prison. It pauses again, shuffling around anxiously until the man tugs him into the stall next door, huffing in what he suspects is supposed to be anger, but is nothing if not amusement and affection. He fights himself free of the cloying caresses of Morpheus as the sound of a horse being un-tacked drifts across the high bars and through the wooden wall, struggles to wake up and be alert, even as the room spins nauseatingly. “God Kaz, did you bring in the entire river with you? Did you see the mud on your feathers?” The voice is low with amusement, interlaced with the blatant husk of love, and the sound of a low whicker is a good counterpoint. The sounds continue a bit longer, low murmurs that don’t always reform into words, and he startles out of his doze as the stall door shuts. He sits up fully, scrubbing a hand over his eyes as his door opens up, the man coming in silently.
He trades out a new basket for the old one, smiling at the empty weight. “Good. Decide to play nice for awhile?” He doesn’t respond, just watches warily, and the master just smiles a little sadly, gaze dimming before he stamps a food unconsciously, nodding. “Alright. Sleep well then. Eat some of that, and we’ll see about getting you a bath tomorrow, okay?” The man gathers up the basket and slips out, and the entire barn goes dimmer as he dials down the lights before shutting the main doors.
It wasn’t that he wanted to play nice so much; more of the fact that the basket had been whole, unpeeled fruits and eggs that had been cooked solid in the shell. He’d spent hours carefully turning over each piece, searching and scouring for any marks or blemishes to indicate a needle had gone in, and even then had been reluctant to actually bite. The water had been sealed in new bottles, the seal cracking smartly as he turned the cap, and the food had gone a long way to inducing a drowsy state. It wasn’t drugs, he knew; just the exhaustion catching up to him. He still wanted to fight, to toss his head in determination and prove he wasn’t broken, but the logical part of his mind whispered that it would prove smarter in the long run, to act meek and quiet, to pretend to be tame, and make a break for it as soon as possible.
He nibbles the dinner meal half-heartedly, not really hungry, but knowing his plan will work best if the owner thinks he ate some. He lets out a tired sigh, stretching out on the straw, and just manages to get his toes to brush the wall housing Satan’s steed. If he was any shorter, he doubts it would even work. But it does, if it’s a smidge uncomfortable, and he lets down the shields he’s held tight for months. Lets the gift that his people hate him for, fear him for, and almost instantly relaxes as the faint impressions of warm comfort sleepy content herd-is-safe wash over him. Kaz is too far away, the link doesn’t fully work without touch, but he’s close enough that the basic emotions can cover him like a warm and familiar blanket.
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Dean is a bit worried when Stephan rings on the main line, asking him to get down to the stables quietly, but when he meets the hostler outside, the man is just smiling. Holds a finger to his lips to indicate silence, and slithers back inside without a noise.
The slave is stretched out, sound asleep and limp, his toes just pressed against Kaz’s stall wall. And his baby, the massive black stallion, is pressed firmly against the same wall, laying on the sawdust and watching him sleepily. The horse has an obvious look of protection on his equine features, and Dean smiles, shakes his head, and makes his way back up to the main house quietly, ready for his own bed.
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Chapter 1 Back To Masterpost Chapter 3
When Kaz and their owner come back, hours later, it’s turning dusky outside, the sun starting to settle down for the night. He can see the tips of the trees through the bars at the top of his pen, and the sky is slowly turning into a stunning watercolor, casting the last lingering leaves into dark shadows.
He’s dozing again, the sounds of the stable muffling into a generic white noise that’s oddly soothing, when he hears the solid noise of the large horse passing his prison. It pauses again, shuffling around anxiously until the man tugs him into the stall next door, huffing in what he suspects is supposed to be anger, but is nothing if not amusement and affection. He fights himself free of the cloying caresses of Morpheus as the sound of a horse being un-tacked drifts across the high bars and through the wooden wall, struggles to wake up and be alert, even as the room spins nauseatingly. “God Kaz, did you bring in the entire river with you? Did you see the mud on your feathers?” The voice is low with amusement, interlaced with the blatant husk of love, and the sound of a low whicker is a good counterpoint. The sounds continue a bit longer, low murmurs that don’t always reform into words, and he startles out of his doze as the stall door shuts. He sits up fully, scrubbing a hand over his eyes as his door opens up, the man coming in silently.
He trades out a new basket for the old one, smiling at the empty weight. “Good. Decide to play nice for awhile?” He doesn’t respond, just watches warily, and the master just smiles a little sadly, gaze dimming before he stamps a food unconsciously, nodding. “Alright. Sleep well then. Eat some of that, and we’ll see about getting you a bath tomorrow, okay?” The man gathers up the basket and slips out, and the entire barn goes dimmer as he dials down the lights before shutting the main doors.
It wasn’t that he wanted to play nice so much; more of the fact that the basket had been whole, unpeeled fruits and eggs that had been cooked solid in the shell. He’d spent hours carefully turning over each piece, searching and scouring for any marks or blemishes to indicate a needle had gone in, and even then had been reluctant to actually bite. The water had been sealed in new bottles, the seal cracking smartly as he turned the cap, and the food had gone a long way to inducing a drowsy state. It wasn’t drugs, he knew; just the exhaustion catching up to him. He still wanted to fight, to toss his head in determination and prove he wasn’t broken, but the logical part of his mind whispered that it would prove smarter in the long run, to act meek and quiet, to pretend to be tame, and make a break for it as soon as possible.
He nibbles the dinner meal half-heartedly, not really hungry, but knowing his plan will work best if the owner thinks he ate some. He lets out a tired sigh, stretching out on the straw, and just manages to get his toes to brush the wall housing Satan’s steed. If he was any shorter, he doubts it would even work. But it does, if it’s a smidge uncomfortable, and he lets down the shields he’s held tight for months. Lets the gift that his people hate him for, fear him for, and almost instantly relaxes as the faint impressions of warm comfort sleepy content herd-is-safe wash over him. Kaz is too far away, the link doesn’t fully work without touch, but he’s close enough that the basic emotions can cover him like a warm and familiar blanket.
~~*^*~~
Dean is a bit worried when Stephan rings on the main line, asking him to get down to the stables quietly, but when he meets the hostler outside, the man is just smiling. Holds a finger to his lips to indicate silence, and slithers back inside without a noise.
The slave is stretched out, sound asleep and limp, his toes just pressed against Kaz’s stall wall. And his baby, the massive black stallion, is pressed firmly against the same wall, laying on the sawdust and watching him sleepily. The horse has an obvious look of protection on his equine features, and Dean smiles, shakes his head, and makes his way back up to the main house quietly, ready for his own bed.
~~*^*~~
Chapter 1 Back To Masterpost Chapter 3