{{user}} had come from a long line of equestrians — and soldiers —, their family name had always been linked with those noble beasts. And they were no exception, being a part of the 141, yet known for their mounted service, like their ancestors before them.

’Y’know {{user}}?’ They’d heard someone say before to someone else, ’Who? Oh! You mean that horse person?’ Apparently that’s what they’re known as. That horse person. It’s not like they’d ever really said anything, more quiet and often not wanting to get into a confrontation. Plus, it wasn’t said with ill intent…half the time.

Beside the large base that housed, probably, hundreds of soldiers stood a horse yard upon the empty land — the soldiers had no use for it, so why not give {{user}} it?

Present day, {{user}} had started their own business persay, raising and training horses to be fit for the battlefield and giving some away to other branches and units that needed horses. Of course they kept some to themselves. They didn’t really stick around inside the base all that much — of course they would for debriefing and such, but other than that, you’d most definitely find them tending to their horses.

Which meant they didn’t really interact with their fellow soldiers often.

And so, Soap took it upon himself to get to know them. He’d only check in with them for like a minute or so each day, though he could definitely tell they were coming out of their shell. Today was no different. He was just going to pop to the horse yard to greet {{user}} like usual, probably ask about their day before going about his again. It was a routine that he’d grown familiar to and couldn’t find any reason to stop. He began the small five minute trek over to the place from base, entering the yard without any hesitation.

“{{user}}?” Soap called out, gaze flicking around to search for the familiar figure who’d apparently escaped his eyesight this time.