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!.
Word on the street was that there was a new Safe Haven in Hickstead - one specifically for kids and teenagers like herself. It was a hard concept to believe when the town had the likes of Daz running amuck with his band of minions but Sabine Radley could not deny her curiosity to check it out. One thing she did hate though was that it was over by Oaldaker Ave - it screamed upscale and pretentious to her. She had seen those houses when she first arrived in town. Those white picket homes for the rich and famous with the SUVs. The thought alone nearly made her stop dead in her tracks and move around - but just like spray painting the walls of Daz Pricard's 'home', curiosity will always get the best of her. She feet carried her down the streets, green blue eyes watching as she slowly passed the numbers: 46...48...50.
Her feet stopped in front of a house and Sabine turned to take it all in. It was all white, blue grey shutters, the brown red door with a stupidly manicured lawn. It looked perfect. It even beat her neighborhood in Dublin -which lets be honest, wasn't really a looker either. Her lips curled, angry at the house. It looked so perfect to her - warm, safe, protective, and therefore she hated it. It was somebody's pity project, some adult who thought they knew how to make everything better for sad, homeless kids like her. Sabine bet whoever owned this house knew nothing of their lives, what it was like to have shitty parents that weren't worth living with, "Fucking stupid," she muttered to herself, ignoring the stinging sensenation she felt. The teenager turned to leave and hike back to her hide out when the smell hit her.
It smelled like heaven. Mouth watering, juicy heaven. The smell gave her pause, her eyes glancing back to that pretentious looking safe haven. It was late in the afternoon, she would be lucky if she made it back to Hickstead University in time to snag food from Agnus the Pittying Lunch Lady. Reluctantly, Sabine walked up to the house, feeling weirded out by it. She didn't belong here. This house didn't belong here. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door - hoping it was locked, but it wasn't. The door didn't even creak when it swung open, the full force of the food smell hitting her. Cautiously, Sabine took one step across the threshold of the door, "Hello?"
ecause Dahlia liked keeping herself near the line of almost passing out from work, she ad did a bit grocery haul with some donated money. While the volunteers and the people that were paid to help keep the safehouse together did an amazing job, Dahlia liked to help contribute too. The fridges were getting a bit empty, and that wasn’t going to fly for her. While she didn’t do a lot of fresh items, she liked to prepare freezer meals. Today was shredded pork in various ways.
Her day off from the shop was her day at the house, so Dahlia had set herself up with three crockpots. Pork in two and chicken in the third. She didn’t have a plan perse, but she knew it would get eaten. There had been a few people through since the house had opened – making it a good but sad reality.
After six hours of slow cooking, Dahlia turned all the slow cookers to warm – and began chopping up bell peppers and onions. The veggies hit the pan with a sizzle, making the house smell of homemade cooking. As she was chopping up the garlic, Dahlia heard the door open and someone call out. Not wanting to scare the person, Dahlia placed the knife down and slipped off the gloves she was wearing. After a quick wash and dry, Dahlia walked to the entrance of the house.
“Ah, hey! Are you here for food and board today?” Dahlia asked with a friendly smile. “Please, make yourself comfortable. I’m just prepping some food for the week.” She wasn’t blind and knew there was some hesitation, but Dahlia would understand if the young girl just walked out. It would be the first time.
Right when she thought that nobody was going to come to her, somebody appeared from down the hall. Judging by the smell in the air, Sabine had a feeling that this woman was coming from the kitchen. To her shock though, the woman wasn't dressed like Cinderella's fairy godmother. In fact, she hardly looked like the house at all. Sure, she was pretty like the house, well kept, with not a hair out of place on her head and perfectly drawn back ponytail. But instead of bustling around in fancy high end closes, this woman arrived in nothing but black workout attire and pink shoes. Like the purpose of this house, it felt jarring.
"Ah, hey! Are you here for food and board today?” Her nose crinkled. Boarding? Blue green eyes looked up at the ceiling, as if she had some sort of x-ray vision even though she could stare at nothing but that white ceiling. She couldn't imagine sharing a room with any other of the kids on the street. That required trust, and everyone so far she had met either communicated like a cat or had an in with Daz like the fucking eating amoeba he was, "Please, make yourself comfortable. I’m just prepping some food for the week.” Her gaze returned to the woman now, looking at her like she was nuts and speaking a foreign language even though the English language was clearly leaving her mouth.
Was this how Dorothy felt meeting a fucking munchkin for the first time? Finally, Sabine managed to gather her words, "Food. I want food. I'm not here for comfort or rainbow colored chairs." Oof, that sounded a little hard, but her brain was overloaded already by this place, by this woman. If it weren't for that wafting smell, she probably would have bolted like some sort of jackrabbit on crack. She should be nice, she wanted that food, and while she knew that this lady and this safe house probably wasn't going to kick her out for being mouthy, she should at least...try to not be a dick. Still, her blue green eyes narrowed, still eyeing the lady with suspicion, "I'm....Sabine. You are?" She was also tempted to ask her if she knew there was a fucking maniac out there, but introductions seemed like a better bet.
he smile from her face didn’t fall off. Dahlia wasn’t new to this, she knew that trust wasn’t fully given. But she was polite, with no inch of fear or frustration on her face. “Sure, I’m working on some warm food right now, pork and chicken. But I have some heat-up meals. Not much, but it’s something.” She offered, watching the girl’s body language. Dahlia just stood – not moving any closer. If she were to move, she would move back. Space was evidently something that was needed.
“Sabine? That’s a nice name,”, and Dahlia meant it. “I’m Dahlia. I take it this is your first time here?” Granted, Dahlia, being in the house when people were here was a bit of a rarity, due to work. But her presence was often felt, in a weird way.
It was almost weird to Sabine how this woman, this beautiful woman, appeared utterly unphased by her words or attitude. In fact, the woman didn't show anything other than that ever caring and oddly warm smile, "Sure, I’m working on some warm food right now, pork and chicken. But I have some heat-up meals. Not much, but it’s something.” The teenager continued to stare at her, trying to figure out her angle and this offer of food, that smile still unwavering as she remained still and in place. Was she a stepford wife? Sabine almost wanted to say 'blink once if youre under duress' but the silence in the air made it seem like the only two people in this whole house was the two of them. Unless people were hiding. Plus, her stomach just growled, so she was willing to risk becoming a stepford kid if it meant food, "I won't say no to...heat up meals?" Sabine wasn't even sure what that entailed other than nuking it in the mircowave.
At least their follow up conversation gave her a name: Dahlia. A grunt escaped the teenager now, "I guess," she muttered, uncertain if her name was really that pretty. It was unique, she'd give her parents that. Sabine knew that she should probably say 'nice to meet you' or something like that, but she still wasn't certain on how she felt about the woman just yet. But there was one thing that Sabine can answer, "I've never been here before..." and then something occurred to her, "Why are you asking?" It was hard to not keep any sort of accusatory tone out of her voice, Sabine wasn't even sure what she was accusing Dahlia of with her tone other than she didn't want her pity or coddling. She angrily stuffed her hands into the pockets of her hoodie now before quipping, "I'm not with that dick Daz if that's hwat you're thinking. He can go choke on his boyfriend's co-" but she managed to cut herself off, figuring that crass language was not Dahlia's cup of tea, "Um...can we go to the food?"
ell, if you were part of Daz’s gang, it would be a pure surprise if you were even allowed anywhere out of his sight,” Dahlia snorted. Maybe it was because she had seen firsthand how Daz could be. She and her brother knew of him, as they had both helped people that wanted to and managed to escape from him. It was rare if anyone did, but there was no judgment if Sabine was trying to escape. There was something about being in what some could deem as either a weird cult or trauma bonding. For the most part, Daz had managed to stay away from Dahlia and Moses. She didn’t know what kept him away – but she was grateful for it.
“Of course!” She beckoned Sabine to follow her to the kitchen. The smells of cooking became stronger. Dahlia opened the freezer and grabbed a few neatly packed meals. They were sitting in the classic black and clear topped take-out boxes. “Do you have any food allergies? Or any preferences?” There was a high chance that the young girl didn’t know. Dahlia rarely expected any of them to know, but it was one of the reasons she was able to have a slew of Epi-Pens around if someone needed it.
Sabine was a little excited to hear the retort out of the older woman about Daz. So much so that the teenager nearly felt her jaw drop but thankfully, she managed to keep it together. She refused to appear as anything but cool in front of this lady - like it was some sort of protective shield. Tempting as it was to try and get more answers about Daz Pricard out of Dahlia Baker, the power of food was stronger. As the older woman beckoned her to follow, Sabine was almost too happy to oblige - like a child to a piped piper, she followed.
Her mouth was watering by the time they hit the kitchen, and the flurry of smells hit her. Blue green eyes looked at the pot on the stove, tempted to just walk right up to it when Dahlia's question managed to cut through her stuper, "Huh?" She glanced over at the older woman now, who was laying out boxed meals like she was about to be on a game show: “Do you have any food allergies? Or any preferences?” Her gaze went back to pot, now wondering what may be in it compared to freezer food, but relented as she walked over to the counter with Dahlia and her colorful tupperwares, "I like anything with meat and potatoes," she responded now, eyeing the boxes like they might spring to life and run away like on looney tunes, "Why are you doing this anyways?" She asked now, rather pointedly, "I feel like most people don't give any of us the time of day."
he lifted an eyebrow. “Do what? Be a kind person?” Dahlia scooped some of the veggies she had finished cooking into a bowl. She had more pork left and placed some of that onto the veggies. Her hands opened a drawer and grabbed a fork and knife, before handing the utensils and dish to the young lady.
I do it because I want to. “Also, I know what it is like – being homeless. No one asks to be homeless for the most part. Sometimes life deals harder cards to a few folks. There weren’t a lot of resources, so I created one.” Dahlia knew she wasn’t the bright knight, nor did she have a savior complex. It was something she had experienced and she knew that she wanted to return the help she and her family had received.
Sure, there were times Dahlia wondered if she was doing anything. But then she would see a family she had helped a while ago come up to her and say they finally had their flat. Or they graduated with some of the highest scores.
“Feel free to eat in the kitchen or the lounge. Would you like any water or anything else to drink with your meal?”
The way that Dahlia had countered her question honestly made Sabine feel a little stupid for remotely asking, but at the same time, she felt like she was justifiable in asking such a thing, "Well...yeah." People being kind were an odd thing to her, even prior to be a street kid. While her parents had loved her in their own way, neither of them had really been fit to be parents. After her mom turned her away, and Sabine hadn't felt comfortable with her dad's way of life, there had been a lack of adults she wanted to deal with, let alone trust with her life issues. Gently, she took the plate and utensil and made her way to the island to sit, pulling out the chair and sliding herself in before immediately shoveling food in her mouth.
She half heard Dahlia's grand speech, mostly because the savory food was exploding in her mouth, and it was taking Sabine everything in her power to not eat fast and cause herself to be sick. But she caught the crux of it, and there was something that struck her interest. The teenager managed enough of a pause though when a offer of a drink was prompted, "I'm good with water," she said now, thankfully without a mouthful of food. Her stomach felt heavy, causing her to relish the pause as blue green eyes watched the woman walk about. Sabine mulled over her words a bit more, before finally asking, "What do you mean - you were homeless?" Truth be told, she found it a little hard to believe that Dahlia had been like her. She didn't seem harden by life, the woman certain didn't look it. But then again, the same could have been said for Erin Thorn, "You just seem like you've always had the picture perfect life."
Dahlia grabbed a cup from a cupboard, just a see-through, green cup. There were glass ones, too - as a way to help children and teens take care of their things. She filled it up with ice and grabbed a pitcher from the fridge. Once full, she handed it to Sabine.
“In the age of the dinosaurs, my father lost his job when I was younger. There was a year and half we were living out of the car, four of us. It was tough, but we heavily relied on food banks and the soup kitchen. After some help and a low paying job, we got a flat. Probably not a legal one, with how haggard it was - but it was better than four people in a small car,” Dahlia replied, as she began cleaning up her space a bit.
