Claimer: I do hereby claim all rights and responsibility for the characters in this series of vignettes because the Amaranthine Saga is mine. (Which means I should probably behave myself since anything I say or do could be taken as canon.) Indulge the lot of us, especially the healers who call Stately House home.
319
Good Reflexes
“Naturellement.” Jacques gave Nonny’s flocking a fluff. “Even prettier once your hooves are neatly trimmed and we add a splat of polish. Perchance, are you ticklish?”
“Huh?”
Jacques pressed the pad of his thumb into the soft frog of one cloven hoof.
Nonny’s leg jerked reflexively, and he swore. At himself. Then fumbled for an apology. “Did I clip you?”
“Non. Bear up a little longer.” Jacques continued his inspection. “Who normally trims them?”
“Mare Alpenglow. Or sometimes Colt Withershanks.”
“Would you rather go to one of them?”
Nonny gruffly confessed, “I hate it no matter who’s holding me down.”
Posted: October 25, 2021
Prompt: #Inktober2021, Day Twenty-Five: Splat
Words: 100
Summary: Jacques Smythe brazens his way into Stately House and shows no sign of departing. Like it or not, Lord Mettlebright has himself a butler. An Amaranthine Saga Serial. [Humor, Drama, Family] Begins here. You can suggest a prompt here. To scroll through archived chapters, use the Lord Mettlebright’s Man tag.
FORTHRIGHT 
Pingback: LMM 318: Cloven – FORTHRIGHT
Side Note: Some of these prompts are just … challenging! SPLAT!? Lord.
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poor Nonny…I hated having folk clip my nails as a kid (I hate doing it NOW) so I can only imagine how much this blows for him.
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A few of my children share your hatred. Music helps–usually, if I do it in my lap while singing they’re calmer and less fussed (and yeah, that still goes for the 8 year old). And I’ve gotten quick, too!
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My paternal granddad would recite Italian nonsense songs when I was a small small kid. I have a vague memory (more of a recollection I’ve written down to keep the memory) of an older man who smelled a bit like smoke and oil and wood shavings, who was so much bigger than I, tugging on my pigtails and holding me in his arms while he recited the songs he learned from his grandfather. He was the only one who could get me to sit still and not scratch my arms bloody in terror. (he passed away when I was about 6).
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Maybe Jacques should teach Nonny to trim his own hooves. At the very least he wouldn’t be ticklish then!
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Pingback: LMM 320: Taking Responsibility – FORTHRIGHT
❤️❤️ Deep seated fears like that are hard but not impossible to shake. I had a bad incident as a child when I broke my arm and was at the hospital alone there (dad was gone on an assignment and mom had two younger kids at home). They came to get blood and instead of talking me through it, they held me down and took the blood. Took me nearly 20 years to deal with that phobia. I’m good now.
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