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!.
There was much change in such a short span of time that Pointer was a little bit put off. The changes upset him in varied ways, from the sounds to the smells, the lack of affection and the off-handed pats that meant so very little from those passing by. And nothing seemed to stay the same, with a different groom almost daily, the routine never quite the same and frankly, he was getting bored of it.
Even now standing in the cross ties as he was groomed by a stranger, he jigged and carried on, much too eager to get on the move much to the frustration of the groom dealing with him. Even when his hooves were cleaned, he danced and made a fuss about it all. He'd been in the stable box far too long, his feed just a tad too rich. He had yet to go to work beyond the half-assed lunging he'd been given every other day so far.
And once the groom was done, he was led away back to his clean stall, doing a slight side-ways trot before being ushered inside. But the groom left his halter on, why? He could not make sense of it, so he just walked in as much of a circle he could whilst the stall was square, making it a little awkward. There was nothing to do and it was driving him mad. Where was the liberty? The grass? The freedom to truly roll and feel the sun on his back? What he done to deserve staying cooped up like this? Whinnying loudly, he poked his head out of his box and looked around, not quite sure what to do with himself in such a confined space.
I’d always thought I was above being fascinated by anyone but myself.
Sage Lavigne wasn't sure what his parents had been thinking about buying him a horse, now of all times, when he was just starting his work with Naomi Clarke. Surely, she wanted him to spend more time with her own horses - given that's what she was paying and teaching him on - rather than his own - who, according to the file he received, may or may not be a nutcase. Truth be told, the incident in questioned listed in the file, Sage didn't believe it was the horse's fault. He put the blame on the former owners - a cruel thing to do given the aftermath of the accident left the stallion's previous rider likely unable to ride again - but maybe one shouldn't let a wife nor an unpredictable toddler near such an animal.
Blue eyes continued to pour over the file a bit more, from pictures, to previous numbers from competitions. While his parents may not have done their due diligence on 'Flash Point's background, Sage couldn't deny that he had a possible contender on his hands for their future together. Still. He had to crack the stallion first. It wasn't a task that Sage didn't mind, he tended to excel in figuring any horse out, but time to do so, would be the issue. The young man glanced at the clock in the office now, "Guess I have time now," he muttered, tossing Flash Point's file back on the desk - leaving the mess for the barn manager to take care of. After all, he had a stallion to go see.
A short walk to the boarder section of Blue Arce's and he already heard the black stallion before seeing it. But sure enough, a fine head with a white blaze marred by a single spot was sticking out of the stall now. So, Flash Point, or Sage supposed he should call him Pointer, was dramatic on top of being 'dangerous and crazy'. Sage was even more annoyed at his parents now, starting to understand what they had done in their own snide way. They got him a show horse who could match his own attitude. The file probably only scratched the surface. He stopped outside of the stall now, blue eyes staring at the black stallion before flicking to the name plate: 'Pointer' followed by 'Flash Point' followed by 'Owner: Sage Lavigne'. Well, they really went all out.
"You want out, Mate?" he asked, grabbing the leather lead line now - best for his hands if something should, and probably would, go array. The stallion chain glistened in the light. Sage didn't care for them, but right now, he didn't know much about his new horse other than what was on paper. There were no lessons right now, so the young man could run the horse in the indoor arena, before taking him out to pasture. Might be the best course of action given all of that hollering and whinnying, Pointer might be more about his own anxieties at the moment rather than pay attention to what's going on around him. Sage opened the stall just a little bit before politely, but firmly, Sage held the black stallion's head and halter, putting the stallion lead on, while humming a tune. Once done, he finally spoke again, "Alright. Let's see what you're really made of outside of the papers." And with that, standing to one side of the stall, he pushed the door completely open now to see what Pointer may do with his new found 'freedom'.
Pointer's ears swivelled at the sound of a new voice, more curious than anything as he nickered at the newcomer. He leaned a little more out of his box as far as the gate allowed him and eventually reached out just enough to sniff at him. He didn't know this person, but he let it be, his manners kicking in enough not to push the human around. Just watching and observing him.
A hand went on his halter, holding his head - at least the boy was not too rough about it, else it might've gone another way. He stayed put as the chain rattled through the rings of his halter, an ear only briefly flickering off to one side at a stray noise before they returned back to him.
"Alright. Let's see what you're really made of outside of the papers."
With the door opened in front of him, Pointer merely watched and took two steps out of the stall before looking to the bou again. Why was he standing there? He had the lead, he had his undivided attention. Whatever words were spoken were lost on him, it didn't make a whole lot of sense and without any cues, he stayed put waiting for instruction.
I’d always thought I was above being fascinated by anyone but myself.
Sage wasn't sure what he had been expecting when he had opened up the stall door fully - the stallion bolting maybe, trying to bum rush him out given how he had been cooped up. Instead, the opposite appeared to happen. Pointer took one or two steps out and stopped, before leveling him with a look that seemed to say: What the fuck are you doing boy? Give me a signal. Blue eyes blinked, staring at those mismatched eyes, "Maybe you're not as terrible as they laid you out to be." Humans were never misunderstood, but animals were all the time, "Alright, let's see where we can go so you can show me your stuff."
He made sure to give some slack in the lead, the perfect 'j' so to say, and his hand rested a good few inches under Pointer's mouth to make sure the stallion didn't feel crowded - after all, he already had a stallion chain on. Sage led the way now, first heading to the indoor arena. Besides him, Pointer seemed to be walking just fine. Fine to the point where the young man almost felt like it might be safe to let his guard down, but he also knew that doing that may also be a mistake within itself. Unfortunately, the indoor arena was taken, which meant that they would have to walk to the lunge pen. If memory served him correct, they would be walking right by the pastures. Thankfully, given it was a schooling day, everyone was inside and not outside, not even the boarders, so walking by the pastures shouldn't be the end of the world.
"Guess we're going outside then," he said to the horse, mainly talking to Pointer as if he were a human who could understand his words. Some people thought that talking to their horses was silly, but Sage ultimately thought it was a good bonding tool even if he did sound stupid to someone listening in. He lead Pointer out through the double doors at the back of the barn and into the sunlight with the pastures in view. His steely blue gaze was locked ahead though, looking to the path towards the round pen. Little did he know that his morning was about to get incredibly interesting.
"Maybe you're not as terrible as they laid you out to be." Humans were never misunderstood, but animals were all the time, "Alright, let's see where we can go so you can show me your stuff." "Guess we're going outside then."
Pointer followed as calm and content as a gentleman on a stroll beside the young man, in no rush and certainly unphased. He looked about calmly as they went about their walk, glancing only briefly at horses in passing where they were visible, but didn't go out of his way to greet them or assess them. No, he was working - that was what the halter and lead meant, and that required his complete attention so as not to cause problems.
And outside? Pointer snorted, almost a sigh of relief, as the sun began to lightly warm his back and his hooves touched gravel and dirt rather than solid concrete. It was most delightful, even if a horse could not express it as such. He kept his head nice and low, paying the young man all of his attention until a patch of grass growing to the side of the path caught his eye. It would not hurt to take a passing nibble, right? Just a slight detour, nothing wrong with that, at least, not in his eyes. He could grab it as he went by - how long had it been since he'd seen the grass? He was curious. So he faltered, paused, cropping at the grass.
I’d always thought I was above being fascinated by anyone but myself.
Sage was really beginning to wonder why this horse's file had been all over the place. Was there something he was missing here? There couldn't be given that he read over the file three times. The guy who delivered him to Blue Arces told him to watch out and that the stallion was a dick, and yet, he was walking like a gentleman. He wasn't sure on what to think. Still, Sage doubted that his parents got him the perfect horse. The young man knew better than to suspect that.
He passed his worries off for now. There was no point in trying to figure out what might go wrong, he just had to wait for something to go wrong. As they stepped outside into the sunlight, he could hear Pointer beside him give a huff of content, "Huh. They really kept you cooped up then, didn't they?" Sage made a mental note to talk to the stablehands about that. Perhaps the stallion was best kept on his own in the pasture verses the stall when he wasn't specifically with Sage himself and the grass was fine. He had been lost in his thoughts, and that content allowed him to grow lax. The stallion's head lowered, walking nicely until.
Sage felt a slight pull and resistance. Blue eyes looked to Pointer now, who faltered and halted, now trying to get a patch of grass rather than walk forward. The young man frowned, let a sharp whistle, and pulled, unware of the surprise that was instore for him that came in the package of 1100 lb stallion by the name of Pointer.
"Huh. They really kept you cooped up then, didn't they?"
Pointer didn't react much more than to perk his ears towards the young man's voice and idly snort in the mean time. But the contentedness of the walk and his wish to just grab a quick nibble on the grass was cut very short. The sharp whistle was one thing, but that pulling on his halter? That was the straw that soured his otherwise fine and dandy moody. His head shot up with an indignant, shrill sounding neigh. How could the boy be so rude? Had he not done well so far? Whatever the matter was with grabbing a quick snack was going to be a lesson well taught in Pointer's mind. He took a few high legged strides forward then broke for it.
Surging forward, Pointer did not much care nor mind for the fact he was going to take this boy on a fun little trip across the yard now. He had no care for what was around or who might've been watching, he was not about to be man-handled by anyone, and this was a most grievous offence! Pointer moved at a solid canter verging very closely a gallop at times, his head turned only slightly by the dead weight of a boy being dragged behind him. It hurt, yes, of that there was no denial of the fact - the chain pinching and rubbing the wrong way, but he refused to stop moving because a lesson was to be well made of how not to treat him.
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