Welcome to Hickstead, home to both Seven Oak Stables, and Blue Acre - two rival stables. Both offer opportunities for their clients to reach the highest level of excellence. Each stable differs from the other, so choose wisely and never forget, loyalty is everything... Meanwhile as the stables battle it out, there's trouble brewing at the university. Be careful, if you don't pick a side you may get caught in the cross-fire...
This is an chilled out rpg with a super friendly and relaxed atmosphere! Remember to sign up with your characters full name in all caps and don't forget to do your claims! Thank you and Welcome, we've been established since 10th March 2009 but unfortunately have had to close guest view of our boards due to multiple sites ripping off our hard work, such a shame! Come chat to us in Discord before joining if you like!.
"Would it help you to know that it's coming from a sealed bottle, so it cannot be tampered with?"
His hands were gone, shaking violently against each other as he sat back in the corner. Fuck. He pressed his back into the wall but everything was moving on him, making his throat go dry. His eyes going unfocused as his breathing almost became hyper-short and shallow. What was she asking? He screwed his eyes shut tighter, desperately trying to cling to a thought - anything at all - that could stop the panic.
"Seth, I am not stringing this out. I am simply asking questions."
What was she harping on about?
"And I know this is a shock, but bullshit in not my forte unless it's over a pint a beer. And I suck at games, my daughter informs me of this all the time."
He reached out, hands trembling as he grabbed the fabric of his jeans and drew his lead legs up to his chest one at a time. He put his head against his knees, looking slightly green, his other hand tucking away, running a thumb over the crude stitches in his side. It felt wrong, so wrong and he couldn't place if it was sweat or if he'd popped one when he sat.
"I'm after the truth, not a reason to just throw you behind bars unlike some of my other colleagues. It would be silly of me to do that given that I know nothing about you, even though you know everything about me since I am a...law dog?"
Seth didn't even register the faint noise that escaped him, a pitiful whimper of fear. He could almost swear he could hear the laughter on the other side of the wall, the sound of the warden's keys in the lock. He couldn't do that again. Not again. He shrank back tighter into the corner of the room, every inch of him tense, waiting for hands to seize him.
"Knife or not buddy, the shirt's coming off - which is it?"
He ignored her words, having made a rough job of pulling the fabric over his head before he could talk himself out of it.
"This will sting."
He hissed slightly, trying his hardest not to make too much noise in light of the fact she had neighbors. It would be rather awkward if there was a sudden flux of emergency services after reports of screaming. He sipped the bottle again, languishing in the fact he could not taste it, just feel the burn that washed over his throat.
"Someone made a real hash fucking mess of this, idiot. What were you fucking about with this time?"
He moved slightly, rotating so she had more space to work with, feeling a slight tingle in his fingers.
"I don't know," he grunted, "Just another person... I guess. Someone who wasn't having it..."
He didn't try to conceal his contempt at that. But he left the snide comment that was on the tip of his tongue alone. Even so, his hands were still shaking - was it just him or was the room wobbling a little bit? He shook his head and leaned back against a wall, looking down at his hands and continued to shake despite his efforts.
"Ah, well, I like dogs. There are no bad dogs, only bad people. But maybe people are like dogs and they too are a product of their upbringing." She commented, "And perhaps, unlike some of my uniformed colleagues hiding behind that mirror, I don't care to book people and send people away without proof that they in fact. Leads to law suits and dragging my name through the mud, and I don't want that, Seth."
He snorted, his tone remaining clipped and unfriendly, "I don't care what you like or what you think is the case. All you law-dogs are the same, it's hardly surprising that the rest of them are hiding behind a mirror. Makes them feel better."
"Would you like some water?" she asked him, since he wasn't getting any fucking hot coffee or tea while she was in this room, "If not now, you may have it any time."
"No. I don't think I will, I don't trust you not to do something stupid."
His distrust was complete, everything an officer ever did to him in the past was cause him some sort of suffering. He was expecting it. His eyes naturally, instinctively, jumped to stare at the door as if some faint noise beyond it caught his attention. He knew he'd never make it out that door, not without getting the absolute shit kicked out of him.
"You were picked up on video camera footage hanging around at a cross section on High Street and Brighton Street yesterday afternoon. I think my colleagues would want to proclaim it as suspiciously loitering, but to me, it looked like you were minding your own business," she paused, thinking, but there was no gentle way to deliver the next line, "When you moved out of the camera shot, a few minutes later, an armed robbery went down. Did you see this?"
Seth's gaze went back to her, his expression going utterly dead and some colour dropped from his face. Quickly he folded his arms and shifted his legs, subtly reminding himself that he was still vertical and fine. Subconsciously he worked his jaw. He had seen it, hell, he'd even felt the beat down, heeded the sentry's threats.
"What does it matter?" he spat, a slight tremble in his voice now, "Why string this out? Suspicious loitering my ass, what bullshit. Any fucking reason to kick a person. I'm not playing to your games, I am not doing this again."
He began pacing, arms still folded, trying to self remedy. He glanced at the door, maybe he would be stupid to hope to get out of this hell hole... No, she confirmed there were people on the other side of the wall, they'd be on him in an instant. He twitched his head suddenly to one side, like a severe nerve tick hit him - was that motherfucker on the other side of the wall? Was he here pissing in the officer's pockets? Was this going to end up like it had countless times before? He turned to the woman, looking her over, evaluating his options. He probably could grab her, force his way out...
He paused and looked at the mirror, glaring at the people he couldn't see. Then he moved on again, pacing back and forth. His stomach flipped, this was all going to end in fucking disaster. He put his back into a corner again and sunk down onto his haunches, reaching up to comb fingers through his hair, growing aware of how warm the room was, of how sweaty he'd gotten. He could feel his heart racing, slamming up against the wall of his ribs, feeling the room spin as he shut his eyes.
"Bad beer or is it just a multiple beer kind of day?"
Seth dragged his eyes from where he'd been staring to the voice that spoke and took a moment to comprehend what was going on. He didn't know this person, they certainly hadn't asked to sit beside him. He wasn't bitter about it though as his eyes went back to the bottle in his hand.
"Both."
He brought the bottle up and tilted it back, drinking the remaining half bottle before setting the empty vessel down again. It was still shit. He sighed and cupped his face in his hands, debating if this was even worth the effort. Maybe if he crawled into a gutter somewhere he could deal with his thoughts by smacking his head into the ground.
He didn't really look at the woman beside him. He wasn't even sure if she was interested in talking to a piece of shit like him as he mulled over the empty bottle and if it was worth getting another beer already.
He didn't even check to see if she was serving him bleach, just took the bottle and drank dangerously fast. He wasn't exactly ashamed to admit that he was capable of downing the bottle quick - he'd done worse things. He was almost half way downed the bottle when he stopped to breath again.
"Well, how stupid of you. Vives y aprendes."
"I'm not trying to molest you, or take advantage of you. You're not my type. I can't clean shit with your shirt in the way. It comes off or I'll cut it off."
Her words hit him like a tonne of bricks. It was enough to make him freeze over and the only thing that kept him from freaking out was the alcohol that was rushing his system - helping to calm and deaden him. It wasn't fast enough, he knew that, but it was starting to kick in and he needed it. There was a brief flush of rage and shame that swept him and he immediately ripped his shirt off before the coldness that followed the idea - he was vulnerable. He didn't like it. Tilting his head back, he went back to the bottle despite his whole body shaking.
When he stopped the rapid rush of Vodka, he tilted his head back and scrunched his eyes shut, trying to keep his wits. He had to murmur reassurances to himself, "This is not them. This is not them. It's ok."
He was panicking so he bit down on his tongue to try and stop the wave attacking him. But he subconsciously knew that all the marks were on display - all the scars from being stabbed, from being beaten, from shitty in-house surgeries, the cruel carvings and tattoos in his skin branded there like tramp stamps. The alcohol wasn't fast enough and he knew it, but he was trying to clamp down on the thoughts that were hitting him.
The second he heard that door, he froze and looked up, immediately guarded.
"Mr. Cannon. I'm Detective Perry. Could you please take a seat so we can have a discussion as to why you may be in here?" She moved towards the table now, guard up as she pulled out her own chair and slid right in, "In fact, did my colleagues in uniform let you know why you were brought in here?"
A female cop? What the fuck was this bullshit? He listened to her with a frown ever deepening his features. Folding his arms, he leaned back against the wall and snorted.
"Don't call me that! And I won't be taking a fucking seat," he grunted, "Might just make you feel safer."
He hated the formality - Mr Cannon. It made him sick. He was not that monster! Just the thought he reached up to the faded burn on his chest. He knew the story, and it made him ill almost always.
He began fidgeting again, "No, they didn't and I sure as fuck couldn't be bothered to ask. That's the thing with all you cops - you think I can read your minds."
He knew he was over-reacting, but it was the only thing he could do. These individuals didn't care. They were soulless bastards who hid behind their power without ever asking the real questions - why did he do it? Or she do it? What made them snap?
"Besides, in my experience, this all goes one sided and nothing I say will change that. SO why the pretense? Hmm? Do you get some kind of kick out of beating a dog when it's down? Do you find enjoyment in letting someone like me go to prison over crimes I didn't commit? I am sure you do in some way, even if you deny it."
Starts pacing the back wall, a light sheen of sweat on his forehead as his breathing picks up and his fidgeting gets worse. He didn't care about how hostile he was being, it just felt like the best thing to do because he was sure he knew what was coming and that all of this was just some sick joke for the people on the other side of that door. His mind was racing wildly, but there was no stopping the rush of anxiety that hit him like a punch in the guts.
Seth looked up at the scraping noise, she was there. His smile was a fraction of its usual smart-ass self.
"Dios Mio. Honey, I am, but why the fuck are you here?"
He frowned, genuinely having to think about an answer to it - why did he turn up here of all places?
"For fuck sake, get in here."
Before he could utter a reply she was dragging him into the flat, hissing slightly as his body sent out a wave of fire over his body. Fuck did it hurt.
"Sit. Over there."
He sat in the chair she indicated, knowing at least to an extent not to piss her off by sitting somewhere else. He didn't even know why he was willing to give a shit about her stuff if he was honest. He let his head fall back onto his shoulders with a slight hiss of pain, unaware for the moment that his hand was shaking and his leg was bouncing again.
"What happened?" She asked, "this needs to come off."
His eyes slipped shut, he could relax a little bit. Just a little bit. He brought a hand up his face, brushing over it like it was going to help.
"Picked a target a few leagues too out of reach," he grunted, lifting his head back up to orientate himself, "Decided to teach me a lesson for being the scum of the Earth."
He watched her for a moment before realization hit that she was going to remove his shirt. He loosely batted her hands away.
"No, the shirt stays on," he huffed, "I'm only cut up top, you don't need to see the rest."
He looked down at the cut, still bleeding rather than staunched because of normal function. It was a decent wound, deep enough it would probably leave a mark.
Seth found himself in an odd place, doing something he never thought he'd have to deal with or simply do. He'd gotten into a fight and for once he'd ended up on the losing side of the battle. And somehow while on autopilot he found himself going straight to her apartment. Of course he knew where she lived, it had only taken him a week or so to find it - more a passing curiosity than a marked place to steal from. He hadn't done that before, but there was something in their traded remarks, the consistent banter and game of cat and mouse when he failed to lift cash off her person.
He didn't want pity, he didn't want to spend the night like a lone leper, he just... he just wanted help. It was a large and bitter pill to swallow, it really was. Looking down at himself, the vibrant red of blood dribbling from the large cut across his chest through the pale grey t-shirt, it was a mess. He almost didn't knock, mentally kicking himself for being such a sod, but he'd stopped himself from leaving and tiredly knocked - or thudded - a fist against the door.
His leg started bouncing as he waited, but he was too tired to try and fight the tick and correct himself. Hopefully she was home. If she wasn't, who knew when or even where really. He wasn't sure he'd cope trying to go through the hospital. Sighing softly he began walking in a small circle.
"Sweet heart, you in?" he asked, his voice not all that loud, almost distant. "I hope you are..."
He sat at the bar as far away from people as he could get and nursed a slowly warming beer. It wasn't a good beer, if anything, he hated it, but it was the only thing he could afford and frankly it hurt to know he wasn't going to end up drunk off a lone bottle of second rate beer. But was he really prepared to be left alone with his thoughts? It was never a good idea - if he was sober, he could think about things. He could question so many things and ultimately would lead to anger and quite possibly doing shit that would wind him back up in a worse spot than before.
He huffed and swigged from the bottle, wondering if somehow time made the taste better though the obvious answer was no. He kept drinking it though, trying to drown out the world in less than teaspoon of viable liquid. He found his hand shaking, leg bouncing. What the actual fuck was wrong with him? He had to really concentrate to get the actions to stop so he could try downing the entire beer in one sitting.
Somehow the beer went down with little protest, but it wasn't enough. It was never going to be enough, was it?
Seth sat in the room, one leg bouncing as he waited. He'd been pulled in by the cops and he hadn't resisted them for once - he wasn't even sure what he was supposed to have done. He hadn't spoken to anyone, hadn't tried to steal or otherwise cause a crime. So why he was in again was beyond him. If anything, his mood was soured. Try to live a normal life and every bastard tries to kick you in the guts.
Leaning back into the uncomfortable chair, he found himself shaking his hand coupled with irregular clicking of his fingers. He growled and stuffed his hands into his pockets to rid the horrible tick. He had nothing to worry about right? His frown deepened - had he done anything? Fuck, maybe? His mind recounted his steps of the day, he couldn't say he'd done anything that would warrant the attention of the cops. So why the fuck was he here?
He had to stop the bouncing of his leg, it was irritating him, so without another thought, he put his feet up on the corner of the table and tried to ease his mind, but even then his brain just trailed off to something else and left him feeling worse. Last time he'd been in a room like this it hadn't gone well... He twitched, remembering the beat down. He wasn't prepared to deal with that. He got up from the seat and began pacing the back wall of the room, needed to be on the move, distract himself.
full name • Seth Kenneth Cannon nicknames • n/a age • Twenty-Five birthday • May 1st occupation • Unemployed currently gender • Male sexuality • Confused
the appearance
face claim• Michael Camiloto
identifying features• Pale eyes underneath a near permanent scowl. Has a lot of scars that he likes to hide, but there are smaller ones that he's fine with.
the personality
likes • Solitude/Isolation, Music, Bonsai Trees, Animals [general], Being Organised, Dance dislikes • Summer, Needles, Large Groups/Crowds, Violence, Blood, High Pitched Noises strengths • Natural Leader, Hiding his issues weaknesses • Struggles with complex tasks, Flight Response Ruined dreams • Undecided fears • Small, Closed Spaces overall personality • Seth is an oddity. He's charming, confident, loyal, forward and brave that means well in all he does, yet under the surface there's a hidden side. Underneath the charm there is a much more unstable side brought on from failings in life and harm done as he matured. He is smart, but it tends to take him a lot longer to work through a task than most.
the history
father • Carlyle Cannon [Non-Bio Father], 70, Architect mother • Rene Cannon [Non-Bio Mother], 68, Salon Owner siblings •--- important people • --- hometown • Kent, England overall history • -- **Hints/Mentions Abuse**
Seth was largely unwanted from the start, his mother dying shortly after his birth and left to live with his strictly religious father. He was dumped at six weeks old in a hospital, found hours later by cleaning staff in a restricted area crying his little lungs out. Upon assessment, the reason for his crying was made vastly clear - underfed and branded on his chest an upside down cross. He was immediately taken into care and raised in the system. It was touch and go for several weeks before Seth stabilized and recovered enough to be given to a foster family until he could be adopted.
He grew up well in a loving home to begin with before he was adopted out to the Cannon family where he grew up completely. They dealt with his past as best they could, but Rene was always saddened by the mark whenever she saw it which Seth took note of, even as a toddler. He was a fast learning child with more inclination towards sports, though his passion for dancing would always chase him. He was seven when he was taken to the doctors for a routine health check where he was discovered to have a lack of taste buds and diagnosed with Ageusia.
His school grades were always poor no matter what tutors he was given, and his parents just assumed it was him being difficult. It caused a degree of tension, but he kept trying for the sake of his parents and nothing else. However, upon hitting higher education in his teens, his inability to understand words in texts books saw him bullied often and pushed to the extreme limits of his patience. He was targeted, pulled into fights and forced to defend himself. This was the beginning of his decline.
His father was more disappointed than angry, and given that Rene was unwell, tensions rose until it hit crisis point. Seth ran away from home and was returned only two days later, to which his father belted him severely. Seth continued to run away and fought more and more until he was free. Being away from home, he dropped out of education and began living on the streets. At first he scrounged for change to buy food, before turning to stealing and evening picking the pockets of others. His crimes were small to begin with, but as he aged he began to get bolder.
He began breaking into homes to steal cash, clothes and food, though he was eventually caught at seventeen after meeting a particularly nasty German Shepherd that left him with several deep bites. Sent straight to Juvenile Detention, he was sentenced to three years - where, upon turning eighteen, was sent to a proper prison. After release at twenty years old, he was re-arrested only two weeks later after turning violent on a couple who refused his demands. It was in prison that he suffered at the hands of inmates. No one seemed to care, and when he tried to bring it up with Wardens, they merely laughed. Confused and ashamed, he kept his mouth shut and hasn't told a soul about what has happened to him.
Now out of prison, he has moved away from Kent and landed himself in Hickstead with the vague hopes that things might just be a tad bit different. The words of his former Warden saying that he would just re-offend and end back up in prison has spurred him to try and stay out of it - but old habits are hard to break.
Notes; - Affected by Ageusia; cannot taste anything, can sense heat from spicy foods. - Cannot Read; serious Dyslexia unresolved. - Highschool Drop Out. - Has nervous ticks; fidgets when idle, shakes hands, bounces leg. - Has a Record with the Police/Justice System. - Brand mark is faded, but still has no feeling to it.
the role player
alias • BlackJack, Jac age • Mid 20s other characters • Millions...