-Heather finished tacking the mare up in her clean dressage tack before gently grabbing hold of the reins, leading Mystery out of the barn while the colorful mare calmly walked next to her while the large shepherd comfortably followed right after the duo with his tail happily wagging whileToby panted. Heather would be carrying her riding helmet in one hand while holding the reins in the other to lead her equine partner over to the dressage arena to patiently wait for the lesson to start-

-The red brunette simply stopped her mare in the middle of the arena before flipping the reins over the Mystery's head, being careful of not accidently spooking her then she placed her foot into the stirrup before hoisting herself up, swinging her other leg over while placing herself comfortably into the seat of the saddle. Placing her other foot into the other stirrup then the young woman patiently began to wait for the others to arrive with her colorful mare while wondering of who was going to teach the lesson-

Kholo Mzi | 33 | Owner | Heather, Alex

"Mm, okay. Saturday then?......Perfect." Kholo walked haphazardly towards the barn, one shoulder raised to keep the phone in place, both hands holding a stack of flyers. Her expression was a mixture of mock-politeness and a grimace, clearly not enjoying the conversation.

Spotting Alex leaning idly against a stall door, her eyebrows leapt up. She mimed passing the papers to him and gestured urgently towards the tack room's direction. "Thank god for you!" Her voice was a soft whisper, quickly dumping the stack in his arms. "Just put these in the tack room - I really don't have time."

Kholo uncovered the phone as she walked away, breaking into a jog as she spoke. "-sorry, didn't quite catch that. I'll email you this afternoon, but I really need to fly. Yep, thanks!" She hung up on the confused caller, lithely hopping under the arena fence.

"Oh - morning Heather! Sorry about being late, I swear everything has purposefully tried to make me late!" Kholo flashed a bright smile at the young woman, watching her as she rode Mystery. "Just warm her up nicely, this cold weather might make her a bit more spooky. I'll give it five more minutes until we start, to give the others a chance to get here."

Aaron Franklin | Romeo/Diva | Hunters/Eventing | Heather, Kholo

Diva shifted excitedly as Aaron mounted, swinging his leg over as he slipped into the saddle. The blood bay mare was anxious to go, mouthing the snaffle awkwardly. The wind had hyped her up even more than usual, making her quick on her hooves and very distractable.

"C'mon, let's go girl." Aaron nudged her into a high-stepping walk, gathering the reins as she spooked at a leaf in the breeze. "We're late, remember?" His voice was icily pointed; Diva had decided earlier that morning that having him chase her around the field was actually an enjoyable pasttime. "C'm."

After a few minutes of wrestling with her to enter the 'terrifying' arena gate, Aaron finally managed to get her through, albeit at a spooked canter. The mare danced apprehensively once he brought her back to a halt, her head arched high.

"G'morning, apologies for being late." He nodded to Kholo, before glancing over at the other rider in the ring. A spark of recognition ran through his eyes as he remembered the woman from the previous day, raising his left hand in a slight wave.

Diva took advantage of her rider's lapse in concentration, throwing a playful buck to the wind. Not the best way to create a good second impression, Franklin. He clutched her mane while he quickly shortened the reins, half-halting her as he massaged her neck. "Easy, girl. Just you and me, it's okay. No need to freak out. Shhh, Diva."

-Heather looked over at Kholo and gave the woman a kind but warming smile, gently patting her mare's neck- "Oh - Morning, Ms. Kholo and It's alright. I honestly don't mind the wait, I'm kinda not the early bird myself" -she softly joked to hopefully lighten things up then the red brunette starts warming up Mystery into a walk while keeping a listening ear for any instructions. Mystery's silver tail was certainly going as the nervous mare started throwing her head a bit in a spooky kind of manner because of the cold wind- "Easy girl, your alright" -The young woman softly cooed to her mount while continuing their warm up-

-After a while, it took the young woman to notice the other rider while keeping the mare at a calm walk. Recognizing the rider that she met before at the pasture when she went to go get Storm, she gave a friendly smile with a small wave, obviously meaning hello then she retrained her focus back onto her horse as Mystery held her head kinda high in a nervous manner, kinda spooking a bit when she saw the other horse buck but Heather managed to calm her colorful mare back down a bit, she gently squeezed the mare's sides a bit as Mystery gladly moved up to a trot-

Ignore, shifting to a new post so I can reply to Flip :)

Laurence + Em / Sam + Tim

[there are so many quotable things in your last post Flip I can't even LOOOLLL]

Laurence felt utterly frozen in demeanor as well as quite literally, due to the pain radiating so strongly from his system he couldn't even tell its origin. He felt as if he had a rope on one hand pulling him towards his past, telling him he was predestined to be his father, to be a lowlife, a nothing, a drunk. One the other hand another rope was pulling him towards the future at lightning speed. He saw admiration, adoration, and affection at every turn here. He had all the tools he required to become an extremely successful dressage trainer or rider, and a head on his shoulders that reminded him that he was nothing like his family, that he had nothing to do with them, that he had done right for everyone by leaving them in his past and focusing on his present and future.

Both of these metaphorical ropes pulled him tighter than he thought possible, as if he were crucified to a cross made of his own life choices--his pride, his shame, his guilt, his happiness. All of it got him nowhere but stuck, nowhere but here, half of him crawling back into his past self--a place he'd sworn he'd never go back to--and half of him sprinting towards a future he could almost grasp. He felt absolutely hopeless, and the physical reality of being paralyzed with pain did not seem to help matters. Of course, neither did Sam.

He heard Tim's voice before he felt Sam's presence hovering over him. The Brit's voice held an unsuspecting undertone, a certain nonchalance that was not often displayed. Typically, he was very anxious and fearful of the unknown, or so Laurence had concluded. He didn't mind Tim, but he preferred when Emily was in their company--she created a balance, a peace that was inviting, that reassured both Tim and Laurence. That would have been greatly desired in that moment.

Though she was with him, Laurence felt a certain tension, a stiffness radiating off of Sam that made him feel even more uneasy. His mind was foggy; instinctively primal to the pain he was feeling. It left no room for thoughts of any kind, much less the complicated kind of thoughts that occurred when it came to Sam.

Back again came the struggle between old and new, past and future. Tim's words came off as more condescending and harsh than they were meant to due to the drugged, pained nature of the dressage rider's current state. He fought the instinct to create violence and rage, the same one that had won in the first place, that had both directly and indirectly gotten him here, in the sandy footing of an indoor dressage arena. He said nothing, vaguely aware of the high levels of reactivity that came as a result of the meds he'd been put on. No one had been there to advocate for him, as per usual, and no one would be. The more he lived, the less he wanted an advocate, anyway. He had grown acquainted to his lifestyle of independence, and he had learned to associate his isolation from love, from affection, from the basic desires of the human heart with happiness, with peace, with fruitfulness. And now here Sam was, ruining both of the illusions that allowed him to sleep at night.

"Don't touch me," he begged. He was shivering for one reason or another, and he choked up blood when he spoke. His arms were crossed over him, hugging himself as if to keep warm, and his tone almost was almost vulnerable to the point of a sob. The blood on his hand from where he had coughed should have bothered him, but it didn't. He was generally so close to and so comfortable with the idea of death that it just seemed like the natural next step. He didn't want to fight it, he just wanted to lay in the arena sand and let his God carry him from this world into the eternity of the next, the one that didn't look like lonely nights spent white-knuckling a bottle of anything strong enough to take the pain away. One that didn't include his father calling him at all hours, trying to intimidate him, to scare him, to make him pay for crimes he didn't commit. He was simply ready for it all to be over, to give up.

"Sam," he choked on her name, bringing up slightly more blood, but not quite as much as the first string of words. "Just let me go."

(I had soooo much more to say but I didn't want to make a 2k word post LOOOLLL I figured you deserved to get a word in edgewise ;)