From the window of his office, Cas saw a car pull up the gravel almost exactly an hour later. He couldn't place precisely made him so apprehensive about this new rider—what was her name —Silva! Adielle Silva.
This was his idea after all, branching out and showing the world that Irish draughts weren't just good for making sport horses, but could be competitive right alongside them. He also wanted Damaske to surpass his grandfather's legacy; they had amazing horses with talent that was worth showing, not just breeding them for.
Cerwen had gone to greet their new employee. He supposed he should as well; he had done enough psychoanalysis for the day.
Rounding the corner, he saw Cerwen's back towards him. She was standing in front of a slightly smaller figure, both of their tones hushed from this distance. As he drew closer he nearly stopped in his tracks
Before him stood, what had to be the most beautiful creature, human or horse, he'd ever seen. Her eyes, a shade shy of pitch black, settled on him.
'Damn it all, Cerwen!' Was she trying to kill him?
"—and the man himself, right on time." Cerwen gestured towards him with a flourish as he got within audible range.
"Cassian Alexander", he heard himself say. Stopping in front of them, he extended his hand in the smaller woman's direction.
"Adielle Silva." Her eyes seemed to smile as she firmly returned his gesture. Cas grimaced at how soft her hand was; berating himself for even thinking about it.
His manners kicked in. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ms. Silva. Damaske Fields is pleased to have you. Now, if you will excuse me, ladies." He gave a slight bow of his head and turned, walking briskly towards the mare barn, praying that it looked like he had something very important to tend to.
Second part of the things going down at DMF!