Wes | Alex, Amara, Dublin, Emily, Evander, Max, Whoever I’m Missing

This felt like the worst case of parole the barn staff could possibly dream up. Little Miss Sunshine was a control freak who seemed to be purposefully off meds for obsessive-compulsive disorder. Not only that, she insisted on partnership, teambuilding, sharing. There was absolutely no greater hell on earth for Wes than sharing, it’d been shoved down his throat for years. Why was it that the second people realized he had uncharted levels of trauma, they assumed he’d want to talk about it?

Speaking of sharing trauma, who was this other guy, and why was he even there? Did Kholo hire a therapist to make them talk about their feelings? If she did, she’d paid by the hour, judging by the expeditious nature of it all. In the first few hours of this nightmarish obligation, he’d tried to comprehend the dynamics at play between all of these people, but by hour four or five he’d simply given up. It appeared that the therapist guy was directly related to the scariest woman he’d ever met and would meet, whose name was Amara. Or maybe it wasn’t, but judging by the fact that Free Therapy addressed everyone by their name to the point where Wes was convinced he was making a profit off of it, that was definitely her name. He seemed obsessed with her in an unnatural way, one that would have warranted the young man checking on her if he wasn’t so terrified of her. She seemed to use the terror she created to her advantage, and only one of the people there was unimpressed by it. Or maybe Amara was taking it easy on him? As he’d found out, thanks to the same individual who he’d picked up all the names from, this guy’s name was Max. Judging by his standoffish nature with another guy, Alex, he assumed they’d gotten into a fistfight or something similar. Probably over a woman, after all, didn’t everything come down to the love of a woman?

That left Dublin. He was the same guy he had been at the breakfast table earlier in the week. Awkward, shy, incomprehensible, but the same. Wes tried his best to stick with him, which wasn’t very difficult considering that Evander kept suggesting that Max and Alex work together, and neither Dublin nor Wes wanted to be paired with Amara. The morning hadn’t gone too terribly, both men lingering in an awkward silence save for a trickle of conversation here and there, mostly work-related. After hour five, though, Wes found himself talking. The pair had been sent down to begin setting up the chairs for the outdoor reception, leaving Alex, Amara, and Max alone. He much preferred this man now, more than he ever had.

“I have never been so happy to be alone in a field with you, Dublin,” the side of his lip curved upward in the most subtle smile, though the relief in his voice made it difficult to discern whether he was being genuine or joking. “What’d you do to get stuck in this mess, anyway?”

Meanwhile, still in the indoor location, Max and Alex had begun stringing decorations under Emily’s watchful eye. It was so much worse to receive her passive-aggressively critical commentary than it would have been for her to simply yell at the three of them. In fact, maybe if Emily started yelling, Amara would actually be working on the task at hand instead of sitting cross-legged on the bar, watching the two men work with that malicious aura lingering around her.

“Look, man, I know she hates me, but I just don’t understand why you would lash out by getting me in trouble too. Obviously you don’t like me, so why would you do something that makes us spend time together?”

“This is good, this is really good,” Evander interrupted from the corner of the room. “Alex, how do you feel about what he just said?”

“Oh my God,” Amara whined, “I was going to let this play out for hours, if not ever, but the drama is pissing me off and I don’t want to spend my last two hours here listening to this soap opera. Why do you think Alex did it? I hate how nice it makes me sound, but I don’t think he has a vindictive bone in his body. Why don’t you think Rena did it?”

“Did she?” It was like a lightbulb went off in his head, but it filled him with more pain and bewilderment than anything else. He was starting to think he never knew her at all.

“No, but what makes you so sure it was Alex? Do you just want to hate him? That’s a shitty ex move.”

“How do you know who did it?”

“Because I did, dumbass. Well, I did Alex. You were standing outside my door at four am giving the sappiest speech I’ve ever heard in my life, did you honestly think I wasn’t going to do something about it? Devyn did you, though, I texted her and we decided that’d make for an entertaining afternoon. I needed some entertainment to get me through,” she gestured to everything going on around her, “all this.”

“Amara Lane Blake,” now it was Evander’s turn to be emotionally charged. He looked like he had tears welling up in his eyes as he looked at his daughter with pure emotional pain.

“Okay, even I’m uncomfortable,” Max muttered to Alex. He heard the door open and watched Wes and Dublin’s expressions go paler as they entered. “I would just turn back around if I were you and leave,” he said to them in a quiet tone that didn’t demand any attention. It was too late, though, Emily had spotted them and gestured for them to come back in.

“I can’t believe you would meddle in the lives of innocent people like this. It’s not you, it’s not who you are.”

“How would you know who I am? You’re too busy seeing some fantasy golden child you’ve projected onto me to see me for who I actually am. I’m a monster, I’m a villain, and it’s all. your. fault. You can’t blame mom, and you sure as hell can’t blame me. So get out of my way and let me live my life.”

As she strutted out coldly, Evander’s face dropped more, if at all possible. He whispered her name before walking out behind her. Emily turned from the decorations she was pretending to hang, a big, bright smile on her face. “Well, at least we still have each other! We’re so close to making this look perfect!”

Ase//NB//19//Rides Don't Interrupt the Dance and soon to ride Trial and Error//Mentions: Open

Ase was positioned on a leather seat in her father’s car, surrounded by her two older half-siblings and said father. The woman was leaned forward with her elbows on her knees, listening to the susurrant of the others. Her demeanor was marmoreal, as it always was when she was in the company of the paternal half of her family. She cast her eyes outside, through the tinted window, and internally sighed, shifting in the uncomfortable seat. Maybe it wants the seat itself..but the company.

“I can't believe I’m arriving so late...it’ll make a horrible impression on everyone!!” She huffed a bit and dragged her eyes over the form of their father.

As his daughter spoke up, Bjorn looked up, a hard look set in his eyes. The chatter of the rest stopped and they turned to watch the unfolding scene.

“If you’ve forgotten, child, I have more important matters at hand. Much more important than taking you to this..whatever it is!” He raised her voice a bit, extremely displeased with his child’s manner. How could she be so ungrateful? “You’re lucky I’m even shelling out the money for all this! And that damn horse, too.”

The girl his rant was directed to huffed.

The woman sunk back into their chair and crossed her arms. After a couple of minutes of tense silence, she pulled out a handheld mirror and did her hair in an appropriate style. She braided the sides back and pulled up a portion of the back into a loose bun-like situation. She leaned back to get a full view of herself and nodded a bit.

Ase ran a hand down her face, draped a little silk bandana over her head to protect her from the sun, and opened the door to the car. She thanked the driver and looked around for a moment. She nodded slightly and hefted her bags out of the car.

She muttered a single phrase, which her mother had taught her. “In omnia paratus.”

With that, the woman jogged over to the trailer hitched to the back of the SUV. After unloading the tack from the small side drawer in the trailer, Ase set all of her things on a fence post, balancing it all amazingly precariously. Of course, her attempts at balancing everything were inutile. One of her duffle bags fell, sending up a small could of dust.

Ase had no time to pick the bag up, for the driver had honked and called for her to hurry up. He didn’t want to hit traffic going back home. They ran over and unlocked the doors of the trailer. “Late late late..” She muttered, pulling the doors open.

The face that peaked out of the trailer made her smile. The large, puppy-dog-eyed, black head of her Thoroughbred, Chieftain.

“Hey, Cheifie. How are you?” The woman cooed, reaching forward to rub the small white star on his forehead. The horse lipped at his rider’s hand and nickered as a lead rope was clipped to his travel halter.

The two exited the trailer and the car drove off, not even giving Ase the time to shut the doors properly. She rolled her eyes.

Well, there they were, a tall, handsome woman and a tall, handsome horse staring at this academy. Late as hell, but there nonetheless.

Heather Proudstorm | 22 | Eventing | Titanium "Storm" and Open | School Horse: WO Descendants Of Khan "Khan" | M: Tryst, Livvie, Open

Rena our fav | Alex our other fav + friends

Several days had passed since Rena’s injury and the fallout that had occurred thereafter. Though most of it had been spent holed up in her room or down the hall in Reggie and Viktor’s, she was surprised that she hadn’t caught a glimpse of Alex--not even once. Each time she entered or exited their friends’ room, her gaze was glued two doors down. She wasn’t sure exactly what she wanted to happen. If he opened the door, her heart would beat faster, she’d feel things a thousand times more intensely than she did any other time, they’d have some awkward exchange of words to ignore any discussion of feelings, and they’d both walk away cringing and thinking about what they should have said instead of what they did say. It was very much back to the way it was before those three unexpected days of shared closeness, she wondered if he’d gone back into hiding, if he’d made himself known for her sake and had just as quickly returned to the way he was. Besides, it wasn’t like she’d invite him to play monopoly with them--or uno, or poker, or whatever the game of the night was. It’d become a ritual, a way for Rena to get out and do something without getting out and doing something.

Now it was Saturday, and Rena and Tim were on their way to the horse show. Rena was giving directions and keeping an eye on the horses in the trailer, but in her mind, she was a million miles away. When she’d gone to load her tack into the trailer, a note from Alex fell out of her stirrup leather--a note he’d written quite a few days prior, that he probably thought she ignored. She felt terribly, and wanted nothing more than to go find him right then and there. That was saying something, considering there was nothing Rena was looking forward to more than Hugo’s first horse show in Virginia. Though she’d been keeping his routine consistent, the young woman hadn’t been into the tackroom since the morning she’d washed his tack, cleansing it from the blood that had stained it the night prior.

She thought to text him, but she didn’t have his number. She knew he had social media, but she’d made a conscious effort not to add him, fearing what that would say about her. Was she being too clingy, too much too fast? She knew Alex was a very private person, and he was often difficult to read. The lack of direct communication was getting to her head until she’d seen his note, it was making her spend as much time living in her head as he did. She wasn’t surprised to be adapting some of his personality traits, or perhaps flaunting the facets of herself that were an exact match for his. It was all part of her cycle, no matter how much she tried to control it, prevent it, or otherwise distort it. It couldn’t be stopped.

The show had gone as successfully as Rena had dreamed. Hugo was an absolute star, as always, and jumped everything with the skill and precision of a true athlete. She found herself wishing he was just slightly bigger so they could truly pursue a career of international success and fame. However, for a little horse like he, Hugo was incredible. He made the 1.10s and 1.20s feel easier than most horses she had ridden. He was an absolute beast, and he nailed every aspect of his discipline. They came home with two double clears and all blue and champion ribbons, even in good company.

By the time they arrived home, Rena was consciously worrying about having enough time to do everything she needed to do. She was supposed to drag Max and Viktor to church at 17:00, and it was already 15:30. She had made a promise to their mother that she’d keep them holy to the best of her ability, and this was not the best start. She’d started blowing up their phones at 13:00, knowing neither would be on time or prepared. Viktor would at least try, she knew, but she couldn’t even count on Max to do that. She wondered what she’d ever seen in him, it all felt so far away now. Yet, she’d loved him with everything she had to give. She remembered how she’d loved him.

In an act of supreme efficiency, Rena bathed Hugo, fed him, and turned him out in thirty minutes, and she’d showered and done her hair, makeup, and clothing in fifteen. This left enough time for her to re-analyze Alex’s note, then scribble in one of her own. She thought about leaving it at his door, but decided that was a terrible idea given the fact that the doors couldn’t hold letters and taping it up seemed garish. She knew she didn’t have time to bring it down to the barn, and even if she did, where could she put it so that he’d see it? She didn’t want anyone else to see it, she didn’t want them to judge her for leaving him a note. She could leave it for him at the office, but then again, who actually went down to the office to check their mailboxes? She hadn’t in weeks.

Deciding to carry it around with her until she saw him, Rena made her way down to the parking lot where she’d told the Petrova twins to meet her. Except, she only saw one.

“Is Max being a diva? He’s going to make us late for mass.”

Viktor smiled, crossing his arms. “He said he’s still helping Emily with that wedding as punishment for the other day. He told me he’d be done right at four-thirty.”

Considering her options, Rena felt a bit shaky about hand-delivering her letter to Alex. If Max was still there, his roommate had to be too. Of course, she didn’t have to deliver it to him, did she? He didn’t know she’d written it. She felt nauseous. For the first time, Alex was the reason for her anxiety, for her panic. Her head started to spin. “Will you do me a favor and go get him? And while you’re there,” she placed the folded up note in his hand, “give this to Alex? Just say, ‘from Rena,’ it’s not too hard, is it?”

“From Rena. No, I think I can manage.”

A few minutes later, Viktor found the indoor venue for the wedding, Max and Alex not far behind. It appeared that they’d reached the stage of the setting-up process where they were just lingering, trying to make themselves useful if necessary. Viktor didn’t feel bad about stealing his brother away if they were being so unproductive.

“Max, are you ready?”

“You need to work on your English instead of relying on us to translate for you. You’ll never make any friends. Where’s Rena?”

“Waiting for us, panicking about something. She’s okay though, she needed air. How do you say that in English?”

“She’s having a panic attack. How late are we?”

“Not late, we need to leave now. Okay?” He walked over to where Alex was standing, offering him the note he’d been given and saying the words he was asked to. “From Rena.”

Not long after, the two siblings departed, headed to church with their closest friend. Not two hours later, that friend was back at the location of the wedding, sitting in one of the chairs reserved for guests with the seat beside hers saved. She was still dressed the way she had been for church: in a beautiful black dress with her hair curled and her makeup done. She didn’t look out of place at all among the actual guests of the wedding, except for her lack of suitable date. She wondered if Alex had read her letter, or if he’d just tossed it aside. She wouldn’t blame him if he had, but some part of her prayed that he hadn’t. She couldn’t stop thinking about the vulnerability of the ask, and the way it corrupted her image, the one where she was desireable and attractive and didn’t stoop to the level of asking men to accompany her places. She almost wished she hadn’t sent that letter at all. The more time she thought about the humiliation of it all, the more time she spent wishing she’d never written it.

Alex,

I am SO sorry I am just now receiving your note. Please believe I wouldn’t have let so much time pass without replying if that wasn’t the truth! Don’t say that about yourself, no matter how much you may believe it. Your words are precious, and if nothing else, they’re important to me. Don’t ever worry about saying or doing the right thing with me, I do that and it sucks. I’d tell you if something didn’t sit right with me, I want the people around me to feel safe because I often don’t and I don’t want that for anyone else. You and I are totally fine. If anything, I should be the one terrified about screwing things up--I’m the one who has brought constant chaos to your life since I met you. Speaking of, I fully intend to crash the wedding you guys worked so hard to set up today because if nothing else, people watching is only made more elite by adding alcohol and dysfunctional family dynamics, not to mention a huge dose of judgement. I will be saving an empty seat beside me so my cover story checks out, but if for some reason you’d like to share in the dysfunction of the evening, I wouldn’t be opposed to changing my story. Just for the record, don’t feel obligated, it’s just a little bit of fun. I don’t need you to come at all, I’m actually looking forward to milking the ‘widow who still saves a seat for her dead husband at every event’ so don’t worry about it. We’re good. See you around, stranger.

-Rena :)

The raspy voice of ole Johnny quietly hummed throughout the Bronco as it rumbled down the drive of White Oaks. Shiloh tapped his fingers steadily against the wheel and bopped his head along as he peered out the windshield at the massive estate parading into view. He chuckled at the sight, it sure was a nicer gig than some he had been apart of in the past two years since he started this whole "traveling cowboy" stint.

Truth be told the journey had started as a way to get the hell out of Louisiana and away from his parents who desperately wanted him to go to school and become a doctor or something. Over the past two years it had transformed into a soul searching journey, and really- he hadnt found shit.

He had heard about some fancy shamncy stable needing hands needed out East when he was driving cattle in Arizona (a job he actually enjoyed more than he would like to admit). Deciding he had been in the desert too long he decided to pack it up and take it East to a place he hadnt been just yet. Virginia.

Seeing White Oaks now made him realize that probably was the worst thing he could have done. Judging by some of the cars he had eyeballed on his way in and the lush grass (that he just knew was soft to the touch) he knew he wouldnt fit in.

Momentarily he took his eyes off the drive and looked down at his jeans and Ariat Jacket that was just permanently dirtied from use.

He wasnt gonna fit in here.

Johnny continued to sing and Shiloh continued to bop along.

He found a place to pull off fairly easily without being in the way and shut off the Bronc. There were others walking around and unloading horses, clearly as green to the place as he was.

Sighing the man reached to the passanger side and grabbed his cowboy hat. His hand hovered over the old thing and he chuckled, another thing he knew they would laugh at him for.

He hafl heartedly muttered this as he opened the door. He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth and shuddered.

Cold.

He wasn't used to the cold.

Louisiana was warm all the time even this time of year the "lows" hit somewhere around 72 degrees and the breeze would chill you just enough. It was different up North though, a fact he was quickly realizing. Here it was bitter cold in March, the type of cold that made him never wanna leave the warmth of his Bronco. He was debating wether or not the work would be worth freezing to death or not when he managed to make his way to the back of the trailer he had hauled halfway across the country. As if the passanger within sensed him coming a quet whinny was let out.

He grunted as he let the door down to reveal a right and pretty chocolate palomino stud. The dark stallion whickered and reached towards his boy who met his muzzle with a gentle pat and a chuckle.

The horse seemed to understand and snorted in reply as the man led him off the trailer and in a quick circle to stretch. Shiloh gave the quarter horse a scratch on the shoulder and turned once more to the buildings in front of him. The two stood side by side their shoulders nearly touching.

The leather lead that Shiloh gripped was slowly warming up in his hands and he wrapped it around one before taking the other to check his phone.

Shiloh rolled his eyes but laughed nonetheless before typing a quick reply.

And with that he slipped his phone back into the back pocket of his jeans and let out a sigh.

Time for something new.

Heather Proudstorm | 22 | Eventing | Titanium "Storm" and Open | School Horse: WO Descendants Of Khan "Khan" | M: Shiloh, Emily and Cam (indirectly, group chat), Open

“As letters are my preferred method of communication” is my favorite thing i’ve written lately, topping some really emotional, beautifully worded pieces. // in contrast, this might be my least favorite. my brain is on 0% :(

Reyes Castel | Katrina

“Trot, trot, trot, and...jump.” He felt the gelding’s legs leave the ground, an extremely odd feeling for someone who was used to the horses only having one or two legs off the ground at a time. He held Elegance’s mane in the way Katrina had demonstrated to him, trying to mimic the jumping position he’d seen so many times. For the nth time, he saw the woman’s disapproval in her cold body language--arms crossed, brooding glare, the ‘trainer stance.’

“You’re doing way too much,” she commented as he brought the gelding to a beautiful halt. “You’re trying to dressage your way up to the fence and then puissance your way over it. Let him do his job, just stand in the saddle and let him take you over it. Do it again.”

Getting back in something of a jumping position, the dressage rider held his body over the horse’s neck, urging him forward. He could feel the criticism radiating off of the riding instructor, but he wasn’t sure what he could do to change that. When she watched him ride dressage, she still had that critical glare he was experiencing now. It just seemed to be a part of her.

Now, with a more strung-out trot, Reyes let the bay Thoroughbred gelding carry him over the crossrail. He didn’t touch the reins, despite it going against everything in his being, but his jumping position was still very extreme. He jumped up the neck, overarched his back, let his legs swing forward, and stuck his butt out.

“If I see you move your body that much again I’m throwing you on a lunge line and sending a beginner trainer out here to remind you how to ride a horse. One last time, then we’ll be done with him.”

Coming back to the small fence, Reyes and Elegance had a similar result to what they’d had each of the times they’d jumped it. Likewise, Katrina had a similar reaction. Finishing up their ride, Reyes walked the gelding out, watching the instructor find her way back into the barn to get back to whatever she was doing. He asked her to monitor his jumping for the next few days, just to ensure his basics were okay before he moved into more technical stuff. Of course, when she actually saw him jump, it turned into a full-on riding lesson. Dismounting and running his stirrups up, the young man walked his school horse back into the barn, headed to get his next ride of the day.

He caught the girl staring at him before she had caught herself. Shiloh smiled to himself and wandered his eyes over her (more to gague her than in a lustful way). She seemed nice enough, though the leather did give her some edge that made his hair stand on edge. A kind looking Shepherd wagged its tail at her side and the girl spoke something to the canine that Shiloh couldnt hear himself.

The girl shook herself from her daze and called the dog before begining her escape from his view.

Shiloh muttered before quickly stepping forward. Whiskey tossed his head in surprise before quickly following after the fast paced man.

The pair ran to catch up with the girl (who seemed to have a fair idea of where she was going) and only slowed their pursuit when they got closer to her. The dog had looked back at them a couple of times and Whiskey had whinnied excitedly at its prescence.

He shouted but kept it to a minimum in volume as not to startle the woman who's back was to him.

When she decided to finally look his way Shiloh cleared his throat before sticking out a hand for her to shake.

Dear God he hoped she wasnt as new to the place as he was because then they would surely be lost.

(Short short short)