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!.
Music bumped as Elodie made her way through the throngs of the city burlesque club. It wasn't as nice as the Luna Lounge in size, but the vibe was still the same. A bit more vaudeville and the people weren't as…raked through.
Elodie was only here to support a friend of hers that was performing. The young blonde sat on one of the velveteen curve couches, a drink in hand. Well, it was a drink. Elodie had finished off her dry martini after three performances.
When it felt acceptable to move, she made her way to the bar - only to be stopped by two men. Who were obviously much older than her. “Hey sweetie, are you looking for a good time?”
“No thanks.”
“Oh c'mon, never been with older men before?”
Elodie could feel a hand graze her arm and she frowned. In a split second her eyes landed on a younger male and she found herself quickly darting towards him. She was faster than the drunk hand that was groping for her wrist.
“David, there you are! Macy said you were coming.” She had a look of “help me creeps are following me” as she hooked her arms around one of the stranger's.
Clubs - whatever type they might be outside the boxing ring he ran - but when it came to entertaining clientele, he didn't often get the choice. His co-owner demanded certain things, and there was only so far Dalton could steer him. He took a swig from his drink, lowering the glass slowly as the dancer twirled on stage and fluttered a feather handheld fan. Burlesque really wasn't his kind of thing, he didn't understand it - all the thrills and frills, it was barely any different to a strip club except you didn't get to see tits. Not that he enjoyed those either - who wanted to get all wound up with no way to release? Pointless. The guys to his right however, different story. Most of them preferred strip clubs, but there was supposed to be a particular show on tonight that his buddy had proclaimed was a 'must see' entertainment for the potential investors. Whatever happened to just dinner and drinks?
Dalton placed his near empty glass back onto the table with careful precision, shifting a little in the chair. The only upside to VIP class was not the view, as the others thought, but more the space from the low life's currently oogling the women on stage as if they'd never seen one before. He cast and unimpressed gaze over them, his eyes catching on a couple of men weaving through the throng like a pack of wolves. He curled his lip slightly. "I'm getting another drink," He muttered, to the disapproving look of his co-worker. "That's what the waitress is for." Dalton scowled then smoothed it over before the clientele could see. "I want to browse the selection," He made a pointed glance toward the women gathered at the bar like gazelle at a watering hole. His co-worker narrowed his eyes and then smirked, waving him off like a dismissal. Dalton bristled, clenching his jaw. Jack was an asshole, and far from being his boss. "Go chase tail, don't take long." One step too far, "Surprised you're not over there yourself, or are you bored of the rejection already?" was Dalton's cutting response, his additional smirk to make it appear like he was just ribbing the guy.
He walked off before a further comment could be made, taking his time to make it to the bar to avoid being knocked into by flailing dancers. He wasn't one to dance, and he wasn't one to get shoved by the people that enjoyed it - though his expensive Italian suit, cool expression and generally slightly menacing demeanour tended to get people to move aside. “David, there you are! Macy said you were coming.” He'd been at the bar for all of five seconds when someone hooked an arm through his. A young woman. He blinked, but that was the only sign of confusion before he quickly smoothed it over, turning to face her and ever so subtly, tuck her into his side. "I was just getting your drink - the usual, I assume," He had been around the block many times, enough to know what he was looking at here - in one glance from the woman's pleading and desperate expression, to the gang of disgusting and degenerate older men leering at her. "I think you gentleman have other places to be," His smile was not friendly or kind, but a smile that promised violence if he wasn't listened to. "Though I believe the word 'gentlemen' doesn't really apply to low-life's such as yourselves." He made a dismissive gesture with his hand as if 'shooing' them away, but he made a note of their faces.
Elodie was tempted to stick her tongue out like a child but she decided against it. She still held onto the stranger's arm as the men huffed away. Once they were out of sight, she released herself. As sad as she was, that she couldn't hold onto it a smidgen longer - Elodie didn't want to take advantage of the man's kindness.
“Thanks for that,” she beamed, happy that she trusted her gut. It was always 50/50 on who would help, but gram always said the gut never lied. “I'm Elodie. I definitely owe you a drink and a future favor.”
At least they left it alone, rather than push back. Something about the look in Dalton's eyes, or his posture that made them wary of what they would be getting into should they push the boundary he was setting up. It was a shame they would just go and bother another woman elsewhere, and probably go further than they should in pursing that woman, but Dalton couldn't be help accountable for fixing every unsavoury interaction. He could only do what was in front of him. He watched them retreat and looked down at the young woman, still clinging to him. He waited to remove himself once she did, so that he knew she felt comfortable to be back on her own standing.
“Thanks for that,” Dalton waved a hand, there was no need for thanks for doing the decent thing. Dalton might be a bit of an ass, but he wasn't a slimeball or a predator of women. “I'm Elodie. I definitely owe you a drink and a future favor.”"Dalton," he responded in turn, and then shook his head. "Please, there shouldn't be a need to deal with that kind of shit," It bothered him that this kind of thing not only happened, and happened frequently, but the fact that the woman was apologising and trying to owe him something. "Makes me ashamed to be part of their gender," He grumbled, shaking his head again and then indicating toward the bar and its wide array of coloured bottles. "Drinks are on me, didn't I just say I was getting you one?"
Elodie smiled. “Dalton? What a very handsome, fitting name.” She wasn’t saying it to be flirtatious, even if it came off that way. So it was a proper compliment. Elodie nodded in agreement. “It is a shame. They wonder why we often like to dance at places like Village Soho.” Her shoulders collapsed in defeat but perked up again – not wanting to ruin her fun. Elodie was still here and was looking forward to whatever she got into for the evening.
“Oh, alright, Kevin. But I owe you the second round,” she replied with a playful wink. Getting to the bar was a bit of a fight, as the club was busy – but it didn’t take long for a tender to notice them. “I’ll have a Clover Club, please!” It was a bit of a classier drink choice, but there was something about the gin, egg white, and raspberry pairing that was tasty. She could do shots later when she was ready to be amped up.
