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!.
Link shoved his hands into his pockets to protect them from the cool wind that blew through the high street. If he'd have known it was going to be this cold he would have added a hat to his outfit. Stupid weather app was never accurate. It should have been over eight degrees but it felt like it was under zero. He was on his way home from college but had decided to have a little nose in some shops on the off chance he found some Christmas presents for his family. He figured he'd probably have to get most of his brothers presents online, begrudgingly including jace, as they all had their own unique taste. Crev would probably be happy with something football related, mav was harder, maybe something horse related - or a new shot glass to take the piss. Stephen, maybe a new journal, he was always writing. He smirked to himself as he thought of what to get derek, just to wind him up - some new tupperware. He pushed open the door to one of the charity shops on the street, hoping he'd get lucky. His wages were absolutely abysmal being a sixteen year old and this month's pay had to stretch for seven presents.
He stepped into the store and began browsing the isles, the familiar smell hitting him like a train bringing back memories from last christmas. He'd often accompany his mother christmas shopping, always curious to see how she knew what each of them would like. It couldn't have been easy keeping track of the changing likes and dislikes of eight kids. His hand reached out to rest on the wall in front of him as his heart began to pound in his chest whilst the blood pounded in his ears. He thought he'd had a handle on it, had a reasoning with his mind. Panic attacks only happened at night, in the comfort of his own bed. He hadn't anticipated being triggered. He inhaled deeply as his chest tightened, unable to get enough air into his lungs. The world slowed around him and his breath became sharper and faster as he turned around, sliding down the wall to sit in the corner, fully immersed in the attack.
christmas was never the easiest time of the year. there were obvious reasons and then there were the not so obvious reasons. like he hated christmas music, he wasn't the biggest fan of the cold and if he was being honest most of the movies were hideous. then there was the fact he was the opposite side of the world to his family. he knew that they were only one flight away but he couldn't face the journey, not after what had happened the last time he'd been there. it had been too long, there were too many words that had been said and then unsaid between him and his sister. it was just the easy choice to stay away and while it made him feel like a coward at times, it was the better choice. then there was beth and ben, he hadn't meant to fall in love with the place he was working at and the family that ran it but here he was. beth, who had been an angel to him at one point was now someone he wanted to spend almost every waking minute with and ben had just wiggled his way into his heart too and he was solidly stuck there now. there was no walking away from that now.
he wasn't in the thrift store shopping for them, though he had seen a few things that they'd probably like, he was here on a mission for the shelter. all the stuffed toys that looked okay for dogs to have, they were coming home with him. the ones they had were looking a little worse for wear so there was no harm in adding some new stock to the rotation, plus he needed a good stockpile for witless, because the dumb dog chewed through any stuffed toy like butter. he was elbow deep in a pile of toys when he heard someone complain about 'the youth these days' and he watched as she walked away in a huff and he raised a brow before he turned in the direction she'd come from when she'd brushed past him.
it took him all of two seconds to see what the old tart had missed, and he abandoned his mission in a heartbeat and he crossed the floor to where this kid was sitting on the floor. he crouched down in front of him, not close enough to receive a fist to the face for his troubles if the kid lashed out but close enough that he could use his frame to shield him from the view of anyone that might have been watching. "count to ten kid." he said, not unkindly but not softly either. he'd seen his share of panic attacks in the past and on the odd frightening occasion, he'd had them, thankfully not for years now but he knew what they felt like and there was no pandering someone through them with kind words. his method of dealing was to distract, slow down and occasionally slap but hopefully this wouldn't come to it.
Lincoln shuffled his feet in closer and wrapped his arms around his knees, lowering his head to rest on them as he took long deep breaths, not even realising tears had begun to fall. He didn’t see the strange looks of people walking past to get to the next isle, or hear the huff of disgrace from others. He didn’t care what people thought of him. Anxiety & panic attacks were real, no matter how many people thought it wasn’t. He tried to calm the racing thoughts in his mind but it was proving to be difficult. Whenever he had attacks at home it was usually triggered by a nightmare and he was able to come out of it when he realised he was in the safety of his own bedroom. A day time attack hadn’t happened since the following days after his mother’s passing/funeral but even then he’d been at home or alone. Being in public was a new one. "count to ten kid." The new voice made Link raise his head, momentarily distracting him. He did as he was told, counting to ten quietly out loud, gradually calming himself down.
all he could do was stay crouched there, waiting to see if the kid did what he said and started counting like he'd suggested to him. his thighs were already burning but when he looked down at the teen's face, he knew he was in it for the long haul. panic attacks were terrifying as an adult, he could imagine feeling them as a teenager. he nodded slightly as he heard the numbers as they were counted out loud and it seemed like they were making something of a difference. he could hear the mutterings from people who had decided to watch rather than keep walking, or try and help in some way and he was glad that he'd been blessed with the shoulders of a linebacker, so he could at least block some of the view. "if you feel like you need to, count again." there was nothing more he could offer to do until the kid was calm. in his experience, touching or trying to force an issue were good ways to send someone right back into an attack, so he'd stay crouched until the kid was calm enough to stand on his own.
"if you feel like you need to, count again." Link slowly began to calm down as he counted to 10 three times. It started to get easier to inhale as his breath began to regulate with each passing number. The sounds around him began to come back and the dizziness started to subside. Eventually, he lifted his head again to look at the stranger that had come to his rescue. ”thanks. .” He said, his voice a little scratchy. ”I usually only have those at home, at night. . kinda threw me having one in public.” He admitted, resting his hands on the wall behind him to help ease himself to his feet. He glanced behind the broad guy at some of the shoppers who had paused to look in his direction, some shaking their head, some giving him a sympathetic glance. ”Guess I made a spectacle of myself.” He muttered.
