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!.
he was smart. Dahlia knew how to work the streets where she didn’t feel like she lost as much as she did. Her lip was busted, and her left ankle felt swollen. It hurt to walk on it, but Dahlia knew she had to keep pushing. Even if it meant a bus stop to bring her back downtown.
Dahlia could hear her brother berating her, for going out at 1 am to look for a kid that may or may not be alive. But she didn’t want to hear it. She knew Moses would do the same thing for any of the kids that were in his program. The anger he had for the parents that were in charge of his foster kids, was the same Dahlia had for herself. Did she not give Cam enough care and attention? Or maybe it was too much?
It had been months, even though it felt like years. Maybe she was dumb. Walking out here, calling for him – looking for him like a thrown-out puppy following the car that left them behind. Fingers played with her spare key and little GPS beeper that she had hidden in her pants. She was out a few quid, more hidden in her sock. The people that attacked her, got the obvious purse – filled with a fake one and an empty wallet. There was the thought they would find her, but they left as fast as they came.
Dahlia found a bench in a city park, sitting under a streetlight. A few street workers were around, but she was in front of a club that was still bumping. Her eyes investigated the pitch black, the lights of the club backlighting her. Far enough that she could tune it out, but close enough that if she screamed – someone would hear her.
“Cam, where are you?” Dahlia could feel her eyes burn, filling up with salt. She brought her knees up and rested her chin. The feeling of her ankle was bruised for sure. Hopefully, nothing was broken, but she knew the way she was walking on it now – it would require more rest. Droplets of iron seeped into her mouth, and her head began to pound.
Despite having some of the protection of the warehouse now that he was working to prove his use to Daz, he still took the odd chance on the streets to try and loot whatever he could for his benefit. He had sat late at night a few times outside of the flower shop, but he always ended up leaving so that he didn't get caught. He felt out of place, slowly no longer sure if he was good enough to visit Dahlia. What little progression he'd made to having a life was no longer an option. He was back at dumpster diving and picking through restaurant bins after closing. Sure he got some half decent food from the gang, but he was cautious of it and often gave it to someone else in case it was laced with something.
“Cam, where are you?”
His ears perked and he turned his head, recognizing the voice like a shark knew blood in the water. He turned and moved in the direction of where he'd heard the voice before his eyes landed on her. She looked rough. Slowly, cautiously, he approached her and gently clicked his tongue at her curiously the way he had when he'd first encountered her. He hunkered down near her, staring up at her, assessing her. He looked filthy and gaunt, sporting various new and old failing to heal properly cuts to his face and hands, but his eyes were still bright.
he stayed silent and still, only until a familiar sound poked at her. Dahlia didn’t want to believe it, but she allowed herself to look over her knees. It took a moment for her to adjust to the scene in front of her. His face was covered in the odd ends of dirt, crusted blood, and other marks. It was as if he had run through a bramble brush and crashed into the greenhouse pots.
“Cam?” she choked out. “Where have you been? I’ve been so worried...” How much she wanted to reach out and pull him into a hug. But she knew better. Dahlia always respected his needs and space. “Are you hungry?” Her natural instincts to care for him outweighed her pain and exhaustion.
“Cam?” she choked out. “Where have you been? I’ve been so worried...”
Cam tilted his head the way a dog would when a new sound intrigued it, a dozen different expressions coming and going across his face as he assessed her and mulled over the question. He sat down and pulled his bag to his front, carefully pulling out his notebook and marker.
I've been around. No need to worry.
He tilted the paper towards her, but not getting close enough for her to reach out. His hand shook as he held it out before he retracted it again.
“Are you hungry?”
No.
Yes... He smiled, but the action was thin. He was thinner than ever, if it were possible, his clothes literally hanging off him. Even still, he refused the food. He'd gotten more and more picky, relying on stolen food and food from the trash outside of the few places that allowed strays to scavenge in their garbage for food.
ahlia frowned, not believing him. It was evident that he had gotten worse. Maybe it was because she had known his habits now. Even though Cam had tried to hide things from her, Dahlia knew how to read his body language. Something she didn’t know if he knew she could do. But she relaxed her shoulders.
He would refuse it, but she couldn’t allow him to not get food. Even if it was from a vending machine. She rummaged through her pocket and gave him some change. “Enough to get a snack and a drink.” She said, placing it in one of his hands and closing it. “And don’t you dare refuse it, you hear me?”
She could feel it, how much mass seemed to leave his hands, but she had released his hand quickly enough before he could pull away himself. It was hard not to cry more than she had. A twinge of pain crossed her face, and Dahlia absent-mindedly touched her ankle. It had grown. Shit.
“Enough to get a snack and a drink.” She said, placing it in one of his hands and closing it. “And don’t you dare refuse it, you hear me?”
Cam looked at the change in his hand and then up at Dahlia, a slight frown crossing his features. He didn't fully get why she cared so much, why she insisted on him eating. Well, hew as lying to himself - he knew why, but just didn't want to acknowledge the fact. He let out a sigh and quietly set the change in one of the few pockets he could trust not to scatter everything - he'd give it to Echo when he saw her next. Slowly he sat back on the ground and looked at his notepad, carefully tapping the marker against the page, trying to find words to put on paper. It took him a moment before he started writing.
You need more help than me right now... Do you want me to go and get someone? I can be quick - get your brother, I know where to go to find him...
He didn't exactly want to explain how he knew where to go, how he'd been caught a couple times diving in the trash for scraps. He wasn't sure if he'd been sold out about that or not, but it wasn't really important. He needed to get help for her, he couldn't just leave her like this...
e knows where I am,” Dahlia said. “We look out for each other. Knowing him, I’m sure he’s already on his way.” At least Cam offered and wasn’t a bit surprised that Cam knew of her brother. They both had a lot of cross-help from the kids they helped. So much so, that they both knew where each other’s so-called wards were located.
“Just a possible sprained ankle,” she added. “It’s painful, but nothing like the time I was pretty much body slammed at Starbucks. Never experienced a hold up onto it...” Dahlia sighed, leaning back on the bench. She felt the tracker in her pants vibrate under her weight. Moses was on his way. Or at least sending someone to fetch her.
“Have you received the last bunch of pencils I put in the box?”
