Periodic visits back to the tall tree beyond the hob village have ensured that vagabonds start to steer clear of the place. Their mantles and their wyrd begin to leave their mark on the old tree, and while the first few stops back do necessitate driving off the local wildlife, after a few weeks the old tree is more or less bereft of anything more nigglesome than the odd hedgebeast or hob. Claiming the place and shaping it to their will is now well within the scope of their doing, and it's with this plan in mind that Alonso leads them both back out onto the trod. It's an excuse to snuggle on horseback, as Rojo trots along the now familiar stretch of trod leading down from Stonehearth to the forested valley. He could probably make the trip without a rider if directed to do so. Even the local village has grown somewhat accustomed to their comings and goings. Still eyed with suspicion, they're no longer viewed with anything like hostility. So there's that.
It's a funny thing, being the far more solid person snuggling up against and taking comfort from the skinnier of the two. But then again, it does make Gisa the big spoon in the Horseback Spooning that this is. She props her chin on his shoulder, a warm and solid presence against his back, as Rojo trots down the path that their long care has hacked out into the forest. "It is almost pleasant to go this way now," Gisa admits, her arms linked around Alonso's midsection. "Like coming up the drive to home." Which is, of course, the point. She tips her chin down, kisses his shoulder. "I have been thinking, motek," beat. "that perhaps we ought to just be our own motley. And if it so happens that another comes along who fits in with us, or two, or so on, then that is all well and good... but we two will be beholden to no one but each other in such a fashion until we choose to be. Where I come from, a motley was three or more. Here, it is apparently not so."
"It would need to be some pretty careful wording, my dear. I don't do well stuck in one place for too long, and you'll probably find you gain renewed wanderlust once you've passed your final trials. I'm growing increasingly restless with this town and its people, and I wouldn't want to ruin what we have for having to run off to Syria for a few months. You know? Which I have considered. The Kurds could use my talents right now. They're getting picked at by Erdogan's goons, to hear it told." Alonso's been keeping tabs on the revolution in Rojava, of course. More and more avidly of late. The quieter it remains here, the more that particular conflict seems to call to him. For good or for ill. "I need to be doing good with my life. It's not that I'm not enjoying having a life worth living right now-- it's made me appreciate my ideals all the more, frankly --it's simply that I'd be betraing the revolution if I were content with my peace and quiet at the expense of someone else's. Home is something I return to, not really a place I stay." Their trot comes to an end under the branches of the tall old oak. Rojo begins tearing the tops off the tall grass and chewing the pregnant plump seeds that crest them. A bountiful meal for a horse, that. Alonso hops down from the saddle and offers a hand up to help Gisa follow.
"If you gain such wanderlust that you cannot but leave? Then I will leave with you. And I would hope vice versa. It helps to be your own boss; you can take an extended family vacation or sell the business if you desire to do so. I have wanted to go back to Israel, to take Sidney to visit his family and to check in. The High Holidays are coming; they are best in Jerusalem." Gisa lets the commentary about the Syrians pass by with only a simple, "I know." She knows he'd rather be there than here, at least in the sense that then he'd have someone to fight. "As long as you return home, to the best of your ability... " Gisa slides down into Alonso's proffered arms, and leans in to kiss him, a brief, almost formal thing. "'To the best of my ability' covers a multitude of eventualities. You cannot come to my aid meaningfully from halfway across the globe, motek. And neither can I. So if you must go without me, then I will be safe and so will you."
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