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Post by Cara-Jean Kitchi on Apr 8, 2012 10:09:04 GMT 2
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Where do I go from here?
Or am I just like a clock spinning 'round?
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After taking a quick shower, she dressed in a pair of black jodhpurs, a canary yellow long sleeved shirt with a cornflower blue sweater over the top. Her obsidian black hair was pulled back in a French braid and wound into a bun at the nape of her neck. Pushing her feet into her black Ariat paddock boots, she pulled the zips up and left the room, locking the door behind her.
Heading down to the barn, she slipped in – making sure to keep out of the way the barn hands who were working furiously to get their morning jobs done before the campus woke up. Making a quick stop at the tack and feed rooms, she grabbed her mare’s grooming kit and a bucket of feed. The headed down to the Giarab’s stall, and while the pretty bay mare ate her breakfast, the girl groomed her.
An hour later, another of the girl’s OCD’s was that her mare rested for an hour after eating, she saddled her up and led to the outdoor arena. Walking her to the middle of the arena, she tightened the girth, pulled the stirrups down and easily vaulted into the saddle. She knew that sitting here in the middle of the large arena on a pony that was just over thirteen hands, the fourteen year old looked even younger than she did when she was on the ground. And she wouldn’t be surprised if one adult or another walking passed asked her who she was and why she was out riding unsupervised.
Taking up the reins, she made a smooching noise and gently closed her legs around the mare’s sides. “Walk on.” She said softly when the pony didn’t move. The girl’s eyebrow arched as Bellezza’s ear flickered back toward the girl and her tail swished from side to side. “I’m not going to hit you.” She told the pony. “I promise.”"This would be your character speaking."
This would be your thoughts.
"This would be someone else talking." - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Everything seems unclear
Confusion is raising its head and I can't make a sound- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Word Count: 437
Tagged: Anyone
Notes: Cara's not the most open of people so don't
come in expecting to find someone
who'll happily chat with you.
Credit: Goes to ME!
Lyrics: State of Mind by Merril Bainbridge.
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Jesse King
Prelimanary
Farrier at the Academy
Posts: 5
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Post by Jesse King on Apr 8, 2012 13:35:43 GMT 2
Jesse lifted Tom and placed him on his shoulders when they were half way to the barns, the little boy smiling in delight. It did dim whenever they passed another staff member or student though, causing the little boy to duck his gaze and focus on the white feline trailing them. Tokyo was not one to be left behind at all, and Jesse was sure that when Shelly, his other cat, was old enough, she'd be right here with Tokyo. Jesse slowly lifted Tom from his shoulders when they reached the barn, taking his hand and going up to the stall that held Palette. Simbad and Speck had spent the night outside, the warm weather being too much for them to stay inside their stalls. But Palette was still in the process of making herself at home, so hadn't wanted to leave just yet. "Want to go for a walk, pretty girl?" Jesse asked with a grin as her inquisitive maw appeared over the door.
Tom perched carefully upon Palette's back and Jesse now had Tokyo upon his shoulders. They'd investigated the pastures, stopping to make a fuss of Speck and Simbad, the round pen and the indoor arena. They were now heading for the outdoor arena, all four relaxed, though Palette's eyes didn't rest on one thing for long. The filly really was quite nosy. Jesse rose a brow when he heard the quiet thump of hooves the closer they grew to the arena. He hadn't expected anyone to be working this early. Tom grew nervous at the sound, his hands curling into Palette's mane and hiding his face behind her neck. He did peek out when they got closer though, interested in what was going on. He watched the girl, who looked small but nowhere near as small as himself, as she and the bay pony worked. Pulling on his father's sleeve, he leaned up to whisper in his ear. "Can we watch some?" He whispered hopefully, pointing at the girl. Before Jesse answered, Palette began her elaborate greeting of the other horse. Her cranium tossed and an excited whinny ripped from her jaws. Then, a series of snorts and an eager expression took over. Jesse cringed. "I'm so sorry." He called out to the girl. "She gets excited in company." His apology was lame, but there was nothing else that he could really say. She was like this with everyone. |
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Post by Cara-Jean Kitchi on Apr 8, 2012 13:58:54 GMT 2
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Where do I go from here?
Or am I just like a clock spinning 'round?
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The pony was an ex-riding school mount, so Cara knew that she was bound to have a few issues when asked to move off, she was waiting for the day that the mare would sit down an refuse to work - as she had been told the pretty pony did, quite a lot.
The young rider reached up and adjusted her chin strap as they made their way around the arena, her fingers grazing the collar, er, choker that she wore, and she pulled them away as if she had been burned. She swallowed hard and placed a hand on her stomach to settle the butterflies that seemed to have taken flight. The trinket was a gift from her last foster father, something for her to remember by, but she didn't need anything physical to have to remember people. She drew in a shaky breath and shivered as an image of the man and his poker buddies flashed through her head.
Pushing the thoughts away, she returned her attention to the mare she was riding and squeezing with her legs she pushed her hands forward and the pony sprang forward into a floaty trot.
As hard as she tired, she couldn't banish the image of the man from her head and the sound of another horse caused her mare to spin around. Cara fell forward onto the pony's neck, but sat deep to stop herself from becoming unseated. Her hand was on the mare's neck as she tried to calm the pony and stop her from spinning in circles. The girl's back went rigid and her blood turned to ice at the sound of a male voice.
Closing her eyes, she slipped to the ground and stood at her mare's head, her back to the owner of the voice. Forcing her tiny form not to shake, as she waited for him to approach."This would be your character speaking."
This would be your thoughts.
"This would be someone else talking." - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Everything seems unclear
Confusion is raising its head and I can't make a sound- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Word Count: 384
Tagged: Jesse
Notes: Poor Cara.
Credit: Goes to ME!
Lyrics: State of Mind by Merril Bainbridge.
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