elijah does not want to admit it, for the question implies some stereotype. some saddle of ideas and assumptions that say, 'because elijah is a horse guy he enjoys these things and acts this way.' but he can not hide his comfort atop a mudsdale.

"sure, you could say that." his ride is a farcry from the leafy comforts of his gogoat— but nothing disturbs the relative peace. until now. "what? why?"

he takes the hat and cringes at it. staring at priam, the hat dangling from the brim pinched between his fingertips, the apothecary showcases his most unimpressed look.

"does this hat belong to you?" elijah wonders if it's a costume rental.

priam conrad

a sigh is all it takes for the cowboy hat to go on his head. after all, elijah's already on top of a mudsdale. why not go all the way? this is why the apothecary does not give an inch if he can help it.

elijah takes no steps into birthday rooms. takes no stray glances at movie night screens. he keeps himself shut in his room like gray lint in the hidden corner of one's pocket.

"kind of fucked up, but sure." he continues to ride on with a steady four beat gait. "why'd you invite me anyway? couldn't find anyone else?"

priam conrad

"you serious about this?"

regardless of the answer, it's too late. they're already on horse pokemon; elijah just hopes the track they're on is short and sweet.

"posture's important." elijah sighs, relenting. "ear, hip and heel should be aligned."

the apothecary's usual slouch has disappeared, creating the illusion of having grown. yet, his height is visibly average— and he prefers it that way.

"if you wanna start moving, squeeze your butt." elijah points at his own body parts, finger hopping lower, "then your thigh. calf. when your ponyta moves, relax all of that shit."

priam conrad

at priam's blatant lie, elijah's lips thin and harden like eye gunk crust fortifying the waterline. but his unimpressed sculpture relaxes. the skin warms and softens as polymer clay. thankfully, priam is a fast learner.

maybe he should have the hat after all.

as elijah trods along with his mudsdale, the wind shifts quick and whistles through his hair. he holds his cowboy hat down to his scalp— and he quickly hates how he quickly assumes the stereotypical cowboy look.

"how to get him to stop?" elijah shrugs, blowing a raspberry in exasperation. "i don't know. guess you're stuck on that horse forever. don't even think about hopping off while the horse is moving. you'll die."

priam conrad

"figure it out!"

at first it's hilarious. watching this "kid" freak out atop of a flaming horse. the horse senses panic; its fiery mane flickers like the thrumming of an anxious heart.

however, elijah stops his horse. he sighs at the inevitable loss of his entertainment. as his feet hit the dirt, the curtains close.

elijah catches up with priam's ponyta and jogs lightly beside him.

"push your ass deeper into the saddle." the apothecary says. "stiffen yourself. close your legs just a tad and pull back on the reins. not too hard." he looks to priam, eyes scrutinizing expression for remnants of panic. of anger or resentment.

the ponyta would stop eventually.

"you've faced worse, priam. you're not gonna die from riding a fucking ponyta."

priam conrad

"wow."

elijah's words cut flat like horseshoes. broad palms clap together as if the weight of his hands is slowing the act altogether.

"you did a very good job." elijah says. "you're the cowboy king now."

crowning the new ruler of horses, the apothecary finally rids himself of his ridiculous hat. with an unceremonious plunking, he drops the cowboy hat priam's head.

priam conrad

priam is a spectacle. the quintessential carwreck that remains deep in the gaze, long after the horseglue has dissolved between it and one's eyeballs. elijah finds the priam of today funny.

but he doesn't laugh, and if he were too, it would be mockery.

"just search it up on the internet." elijah says, his mudsdale passing by. "horsey thinks you should too."

priam conrad