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!.
"Yeah, and I promise it's purely incidental - I haven't tracked you down. But, we're new here and you were highly recommended."
He nodded as she spoke, already removing the old shoe and cleaning out the hoof.
Cora nodded, "Apparently so. Time to put you to the test."
He snorted at that as he reached for his tools and began to trim.
"I'll be competing with him, it'll be mostly showjumping and some dressage, once I know where his strengths are I'll lean more toward one than the other so I can specify his training and fitness."
"I see," he said, nodding, "So there are a couple different shoes I can put on him until that time. Since you are trying to work out what he is more suited to, I will just put him in a standard shoe. Still good enough to work in until you figure his forte, and after that, we can discuss the type and style of shoe he goes in from there. Saves you and me a lot of guess work now. Sound agreeable?"
"Really? You're the one who was ready to brandish a knife earlier in our conversation."
He shrugged at that, "When you have a bounty hanging over your head, you tend to fight first, ask questions later. It's much more simple that way."
He didn't look up from what he was doing, continuing about his ritual as she went on and on.
"You're right," Perdita said flatly, "I did loose everything. My mother and adopted father have been dead for a while. But my half siblings pushed me out, so I have nothing to go back to."
At that, grey eyes flickered to her for all of a second before he snorted through his nose, "Welcome to the club."
"As for Sarah, I couldn't find her. You were the easiest to track down, simple as that."
"As for...Aiden...I don't know."
"Tells me a lot," he said, setting his tools down and flopping in to his seat, tapping away on the keyboard of his laptop, "The fact you can find me, but not them. Kinda funny actually. They aren't even trying to hide. They still live in forty-two Ridgeview Street, London. Sarah still lives with them, too fucking dumb to move out that cow. Pretty sure her number is the same, working in the same small corner store, four days a week. That bastard Aiden, well, he's still drinking himself into the grave as far as I know. And my mother, well, she can rot whatever she does now. You can go looking for them, but I can assure you - they aren't going to welcome a dark past. I was too much, so whatever you might've done, rest assured they'll kick you in the guts repeatedly."
Just talking about them left an unpleasant taste in his mouth, face screwed up like he just licked a battery. His tone even reflected how sour and bitter he was towards his family.
"Stuff to do? What kind of stuff?" Surely, it was stuff that he deemed none of her business, and Perdita was already prepared to have that thrown back in her face, "Maybe I can help you..."
At that he looked at her completely, brow raised, "I run a business and I also work here. I have clients. I have another ten horses to go out and shoe. I don't think you'd be all that willing to be stood around horses as I trim hooves. I'm just taking my break before I go back into the stable and do that."
He merely returned her look with one of his own, cold and devoid of emotion, "I don't care what you are supposed to feel, that's your issue."
He inhaled another lungful of smoke and held it, letting it rest in his lungs uncomfortably before letting it out again. He stood up, pushing his seat back under the bench with one foot as he scratched his chin and reached for a whetstone on one of the shelves behind him.
"Well, that was your fucking problem, Grey. If you didn't trust them with a paper clip, then maybe you should have killed them." She cocked her head now, feeling that bitchy attitude rising more within her, "It's not my fucking fault you sucked at disappearing. And if you really want cold hard proof, that we can go to a hospital and do a DNA test. I got nothing to hide." She crossed her arms now, "We can even go now, because quite frankly, I have all the time in the world."
He let her rant and rave. In all honesty, he didn't care enough - even if they did a DNA test, it only confirmed that his sperm-donor of a father was rotten from the start, to have willingly screwed another woman whilst married. Guess that didn't bode well for the future... Grabbing oil and an old rag from the bench, he picked up one of his pairing knives and set about sharpening the blade edge. He had plenty to hide, to keep to himself so that his reputation remained as mar-free as possible.
"Maybe I should've," he shrugged, "But I'm not about needless bloodshed," he briefly glanced at her, basically ignoring her as he stood there, working on the knife, "Even if I suck at disappearing, most people wouldn't have bothered looking -which begs the question, why? What are you looking to get out of this? Because I don't see the benefits - you should've gone looking for daddy-dearest before me. Hmm? Why not go find your other sibling? The step-mother you never knew huh? Everyone has an angle, even you."
He held the blade up, feeling the edge with his thumb and wiped it free of oil, then put it in its sheath and hung it on the wall.
"If you have all the time in the world, why haven't you gone and done that huh? Or stayed with your parents, hmm? Your mother. Undoubtedly you have siblings, I find it hard to believe otherwise," he snorted, grabbing a spray can and the hoof nippers, spraying them down, "Either you were disowned, kicked out, or lost everything are my guesses, and now you are looking for a new landing strip. Right, wrong - doesn't matter. I'll do the DNA test, it'll just have to wait until later, I have things to do. And whatever the outcome may be - doesn't mean much. If you are my half-sibling, well-done on finding this dead-beat. If not, well-done on finding this dead-beat."
"Do I look and sound like I'm from London?" she spat back, "And I can assure you, it will take a lot more than a fucking hammer to end me."
His expression didn't change. It would take more than a hammer? He knew, or assumed - that this bitch was talking out her ass. Whatever self-defense classes she thought would protect her was not going to stop him. When it came down to it, he was brutal and making sure someone stayed down was not off his cards.
"Accent means shit. And if a hammer isn't enough, I can make arrangements otherwise."
"Listen Grey, I believe we're getting off on the wrong foot," her hand moved to her bag slowly now, "I'm pulling out paperwork. Do. Not. Fucking. Do. Anything. There's no need for a brawl to start out here. I'd hate to get you fired from this place."
He reclined back a little, unimpressed. He could feel the loathing radiating off her, making the area all the more tense but he watched her pull out a large parcel and toss it onto his work bench, setting tools rattling. He tilted his head, observing the package lazily - was a ream of paper meant to impress him? He reached over to a desk draw, pulling it out and tossed up a packet of cigarettes and box of matches onto the desk. Bringing up his leg with the knife in it, he removed it and set the eight inch blade on desk before lighting himself a smoke. He was deliberately taking his time, trying to piss her off more. Then he slid the package closer and purposely cut the twine rather than undoing it. He didn't care for this.
"My name is Perdita Delgado-Vaughn," she said now, "And James Aiden Vaughn is my biological father. So that makes you my half brother."
He leafed through the papers, casting a cursory glance over everything, a brow raised.
"And why should I believe this?" he grunted, blowing a large amount of smoke, "A stack of love letters in a man's writing I don't recognize, a birth certificate that could be forged. The photos don't mean much to me, that is not a man I recognize. So, give me proof. Actual proof. Not this."
He gestured at the papers as he leaned back more against his desk, "You know, this is all amazingly coincidental - given how hard I buried myself, how much time I have put into avoiding contact from people. So you've had to dig and reach out to people I couldn't trust with a fucking paper clip. The fact you nailed me here means people talked, and that means trouble."
His smile faded off very quickly at that. Who the fuck knew he lived in his car? He hadn't even told Cora about that. His good humor left him, a muscle ticking in his jaw as he began thinking over what this meant. He continued to work before leaning down and scratching at his leg, feeling the familiar six inch knife in his boot.
"What?"
"Do I look like I ride one of those furry beasts?"
He looked at her now with a colder, more reserved look, "With the number of women I work for that look like you, dressed to the nines, I wouldn't put it past you. And if I'm wrong, whatever."
"Are you Grey Vaugh?" she asked now, "Or if not, where is he? I know he lives here."
That made him stand up, tattoos rippling as he subconsciously flexed and tensed up, his eyes darkened over as he grabbed one of the hammers off the wall beside him.
"I am Grey Vaughn, and I don't know who the fuck you are coming here or what business you have with me, but clearly it's not related to my work," he barked, "And if those dead-end fuckers from London sent you, I will break your knees and get rid of you - I haven't lost my taste for blood."
He turned the hammer over in his hand, ready for violence. He felt justified in his reaction - she knew he lived in his car and trailer, she wasn't here for business, her tone was not appreciated and he knew that if anyone was going to learn anything about him they would've had to go taking to the London gangs, or dug their nails into cops. He had something of a life here, it was all he had and he had no intentions of letting some stranger walk all over the life he was trying to have.
Wiping the sweat from his brow, his jacket slung over his shoulder, Grey shoved his tools into a bucket. It was never a dull moment in the stables, and whilst he was very good at what he did, he still found himself dealing with the odd lose shoe or even a lost one - though the later was rare. But today was just another routine check over of the next rotation, and everything was great. No injuries, no twisted nails, no infections - nothing.
Picking up his bucket of tools, he made his way out to his trailer, frowning at the sight of someone standing by his trailer. Then he heard them knock. What the fuck? Sighing, he closed the distance and dropped the bucket loudly behind them.
"You always knock on the back of trailers?" he asked, a brow raised as he moved to the back of the trailer and began sliding the pins to pull the ramp down.
Picking up his tools, he went in and sat on a stool and threw his jacket over into a corner. He was efficient, moving through his space, turning on his laptop to fill in his personal roster. As he waited to for his laptop to warm up, he grabbed out disinfectant sprays and began cleaning his tools.
"So, what are you looking for - regular trim, correction, therapeutic?" he asked as he worked away at his tools, moving the clean items to their places and set his knives on the bench.
"How disgusting," She curled her lip slightly at the man.
"I should have... warned you." She admitted, earning a frown from her father.
"Warned him? Of what, your family?" He shook his head, a slight pinch of hurt appearing between his eyes. "We love you Coralina, we only want the best for you. This is not it."
"Grey is... the best for me."
Grey visibly tensed, everything about him suddenly very ready to fight, his voice suddenly very calm despite the bitterness in it, "Want what is best for her? Really? Because what I see isn't best. What I see from you is a pair of self-righteous assholes. This is the twenty-first fucking century and you are all but selling your daughter like she's a piece of meat. I'm sure in your time that's all you knew, but times have moved on and Cora is her own person, not a chest piece to shuffle around at a whim."
Charlotte raised a brow, "Our daughter does not always know what's good for her, but we are here to decide that. There is no impasse, whether she requests you to stay or not doesn't matter. You will be removed."
"Your daughter is not a robot, she is not a slave and not a dog that lays at your feet," he snarled.
"Your Royal Highness', Grey is harmless... I vetted himself once I learnt where Cora was running off to."
Richard narrowed his eyes, "Yes, we'll deal with you later. The fact that you've known this was happening and did not inform us of it is troubling, and against your duties as her head guard." He shook his head. "Perhaps it is time your duties were removed from you."
"This is not Will's fault!" She gasped at the rush of pain as she sat upright.
"It is partly his fault. He has failed in his promises." Richard said simply.
"I can't s-stop them.. if they... take you ... I'll never see you... again." The thought terrified her.
"I'm going nowhere." Grey pressed a kiss to her forehead as he reached across to hit the nurses' button to call them in. This was getting nowhere fast and it was only stressing Cora out, something she didn't need.
"I think its time you two leave, because in less than thirty seconds nurses will be in to shoo you out," Grey smiled, but it was a dangerous, threatening action, "You are not helping her to recover by being the local Stonehenge. Another day we might talk, but no more."
At that, he couldn't help the frown that swept his face as he looked up from where he was. It took all of five seconds for it to dawn on him that this was the woman from the bar. Her name eluded him for a moment before it graced him with its presence.
"Cora."
He was baffled - what were the odds that he'd cross paths with the same woman he'd gotten a little bit friendly with at the bar? He shook his head.
"This is unexpected."
"This is Capulet, and I would be his owner, good deduction skills," She teased, "This feels like a weird coincidence."
"I tend to be good at what I do," he said, scratching his jaw.
He moved over to Capulet, letting the horse take in his scent before moving down the horse's leg to lift the hoof up off the ground, examining it closely. He dragged his tool kit closer, resting Capulet's hoof on the stand as he grabbed out a pick. He went through the standard process of his assessment before glancing up.
"Are you going to be doing anything specific with your horse? Hard riding, competitive type stuff, or are you more leaning into general riding?"
"I think it is clear, that he does not. Get on your feet boy, and bow as you should. You are not addressing some commoner off the street, and I do not think this is appropriate attire or manners of which to speak with us."
"I will ask you politely once more, and then if you do not move, you will be forcibly remove. Get away from our daughter."
Grey watched the posturing and preening with a raised brow, far from impressed. Slowly he got off the bed and stretched out to his complete height and looked them directly in the eye as every bit of his frame flexed, his jaw tightening as they poked him all the more.
"Couldn't care less whom I'm talkin' to doll-face," Grey sneered, "You both waltz in unannounced and expect me to yield to your pom and frill or whatever the fuck this is? Fuck that, think again. I don't know who you are, I couldn't give to rat's ass' about you both to be frank - you're irritating me."
He rolled his shoulders, cracking and popping loudly, "The only bowing I'll do is to a porcelain god with a cracking hangover, or if my girlfriend asks me to. So I don't know where this 'boy' comes from, but you're walking a fine line, because I am more man than you both combined. Now, I'd like to see your little lap dogs try to remove me from this room, because it won't happen. The only person that will make me do anything is laying in that bed, so spit and threaten me all you like." He raised a brow. "Your daughter, my girlfriend - bite me. She goes nowhere."
He stood tall, ready, defense, ready for whatever challenge they were about to issue. Whatever good grace he might've had was long gone with their petty insults, but he was ready to bite back at whatever they had to say.
"Mum... Dad?"
He looked back at Cora, his face softening a touch as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed, leaning down to kiss her forehead gently, "Morning Pigeon. It would appear your folks are here."
His tone was a touch lighter, but still tense as he glared back at them.
Grey stayed put with Cora, keeping his promise not to move away from her - save for the use of a bathroom at one point. He'd gotten comfortable, forgoing his shirt to be more comfortable beside her on the bed. He dozed lightly on and off, at times just laying there and watching her and mentally yelling at Rhett for his carelessness for this whole situation. That man still had yet to feel his wrath.
Even as he dozed, he was grateful for his senses - they told him even with his eyes closed, when someone was around. It made his skin prickle and most of the time there was no warning bells that accompanied it. But this time it was different, the alarm bells brought him to a fully alert state even before people were in the room.
"And who, on earth, are you?"
"Get away from her at once."
Strangers. Hostile voices, two - male and female, ordering him to identify and move? That got his back up. He turned his head to look at them both with his dark grey eyes, assessing them. Didn't like them, decision made. He stretched lazily, subconsciously flexing his muscles and cracked his neck.
"You're both ruining a perfectly good nap," he growled back quietly, "My name is irrelevant to you asshole. And you don't tell me what to do. I am staying right where I am and there isn't a god damned thing you can do about it. Now, you both seem lost - the psyche unit is the next floor up, better get moving before the orderlies put this place on lock down looking for you both."
He didn't care who they were, or what they thought they were, but he'd made a promise to Cora and nothing was going to shift him from his spot. Aside from being comfortable, he felt the need to protect her from whomever these people were. His eyes continued to wash over them before catching the briefly glimpse of Will standing outside the door looking guilty as hell. He would be serving him a piece of his mind too at some point.
"Cuddles are al-ways... good, especially.. yours."
"Glad to be of service," he smiled.
"My title.. is my.. job, and my.. life. I don't.. get to go out.. and do what normal people do."
"Well, I suppose when you put it like that."
"I want you... hanging around. Just don't.. let them take.. me back."
He nodded, "There is nothing anyone can say, do, or threaten that could make me move an inch away from you. Now rest please. I'll be right here when you wake up."
"Uh-huh. Right. Well, we're going to look at a nap together yeah? Nap and cuddles sounds really good."
Perhaps he was pushing the rest too much, but he did just want the best for her and that seemed like best thing aside from knowing that she was ok. Or at least, relatively ok.
"I wish I was..joking. I always.. wanted to be normal.. you made me ... feel normal."
"Made you feel normal? Odd thing to say."
"My parents are.. Prince Richard and P-Princess.. Charlotte.. of Hampshire. I am the Gr-reat-grandchild.. or the Queen of England. You can ..google me as.. Lady Coralina A-Astley. Enjoy..all the... scandals..."
He nodded slowly, still not entirely convinced, "Well, that doesn't matter to me. Princess, angel, demon, cultist - it doesn't matter. You are you and that's all that matters me. Who gives a flying fuck about scandals? Cause I can safely say I am not someone the Royal family would want hanging around. But that's tomorrow's issue sweet heart."
He nodded and gently kissed her cheek. He mightn't have been in an accident, but he was tired. Mentally, emotionally exhausted from everything that had happened and he knew it wasn't fair for him to feel that way.
"I'm here."
"I don't.. want t-to sleep."
"You should so you can heal," he murmured, "But I understand it."
"I need.. to tell you s-something."
To that he tilted his head, curious and slightly confused about what she wanted to say.
"I.. have not been.. entirely honest. T-the reason for.. many things you may h-have picked up on.. is that I am a part.. of the r-royal family. N-not in line to the throne.. aside from a ..dramatic tragedy but.. a Lady, in my own.. right."
He frowned slightly as she spoke - not entirely honest? Part of him wanted to bristle up but nothing came of it as he laid there with her. But he immediately relaxed and assumed it could only be the pain meds that she was on that made her say such a strange thing. He shook his head slightly.
"Alright your Majesty."
He chuckled softly, not believing that at all but he knew better than to question it right now, he was willing to accept it and humor until she was more lucid and in less pain.
