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!.
"Knife or not buddy, the shirt's coming off - which is it?"
He ignored her words, having made a rough job of pulling the fabric over his head before he could talk himself out of it.
"This will sting."
He hissed slightly, trying his hardest not to make too much noise in light of the fact she had neighbors. It would be rather awkward if there was a sudden flux of emergency services after reports of screaming. He sipped the bottle again, languishing in the fact he could not taste it, just feel the burn that washed over his throat.
"Someone made a real hash fucking mess of this, idiot. What were you fucking about with this time?"
He moved slightly, rotating so she had more space to work with, feeling a slight tingle in his fingers.
"I don't know," he grunted, "Just another person... I guess. Someone who wasn't having it..."
He didn't even check to see if she was serving him bleach, just took the bottle and drank dangerously fast. He wasn't exactly ashamed to admit that he was capable of downing the bottle quick - he'd done worse things. He was almost half way downed the bottle when he stopped to breath again.
"Well, how stupid of you. Vives y aprendes."
"I'm not trying to molest you, or take advantage of you. You're not my type. I can't clean shit with your shirt in the way. It comes off or I'll cut it off."
Her words hit him like a tonne of bricks. It was enough to make him freeze over and the only thing that kept him from freaking out was the alcohol that was rushing his system - helping to calm and deaden him. It wasn't fast enough, he knew that, but it was starting to kick in and he needed it. There was a brief flush of rage and shame that swept him and he immediately ripped his shirt off before the coldness that followed the idea - he was vulnerable. He didn't like it. Tilting his head back, he went back to the bottle despite his whole body shaking.
When he stopped the rapid rush of Vodka, he tilted his head back and scrunched his eyes shut, trying to keep his wits. He had to murmur reassurances to himself, "This is not them. This is not them. It's ok."
He was panicking so he bit down on his tongue to try and stop the wave attacking him. But he subconsciously knew that all the marks were on display - all the scars from being stabbed, from being beaten, from shitty in-house surgeries, the cruel carvings and tattoos in his skin branded there like tramp stamps. The alcohol wasn't fast enough and he knew it, but he was trying to clamp down on the thoughts that were hitting him.
Seth looked up at the scraping noise, she was there. His smile was a fraction of its usual smart-ass self.
"Dios Mio. Honey, I am, but why the fuck are you here?"
He frowned, genuinely having to think about an answer to it - why did he turn up here of all places?
"For fuck sake, get in here."
Before he could utter a reply she was dragging him into the flat, hissing slightly as his body sent out a wave of fire over his body. Fuck did it hurt.
"Sit. Over there."
He sat in the chair she indicated, knowing at least to an extent not to piss her off by sitting somewhere else. He didn't even know why he was willing to give a shit about her stuff if he was honest. He let his head fall back onto his shoulders with a slight hiss of pain, unaware for the moment that his hand was shaking and his leg was bouncing again.
"What happened?" She asked, "this needs to come off."
His eyes slipped shut, he could relax a little bit. Just a little bit. He brought a hand up his face, brushing over it like it was going to help.
"Picked a target a few leagues too out of reach," he grunted, lifting his head back up to orientate himself, "Decided to teach me a lesson for being the scum of the Earth."
He watched her for a moment before realization hit that she was going to remove his shirt. He loosely batted her hands away.
"No, the shirt stays on," he huffed, "I'm only cut up top, you don't need to see the rest."
He looked down at the cut, still bleeding rather than staunched because of normal function. It was a decent wound, deep enough it would probably leave a mark.
Seth found himself in an odd place, doing something he never thought he'd have to deal with or simply do. He'd gotten into a fight and for once he'd ended up on the losing side of the battle. And somehow while on autopilot he found himself going straight to her apartment. Of course he knew where she lived, it had only taken him a week or so to find it - more a passing curiosity than a marked place to steal from. He hadn't done that before, but there was something in their traded remarks, the consistent banter and game of cat and mouse when he failed to lift cash off her person.
He didn't want pity, he didn't want to spend the night like a lone leper, he just... he just wanted help. It was a large and bitter pill to swallow, it really was. Looking down at himself, the vibrant red of blood dribbling from the large cut across his chest through the pale grey t-shirt, it was a mess. He almost didn't knock, mentally kicking himself for being such a sod, but he'd stopped himself from leaving and tiredly knocked - or thudded - a fist against the door.
His leg started bouncing as he waited, but he was too tired to try and fight the tick and correct himself. Hopefully she was home. If she wasn't, who knew when or even where really. He wasn't sure he'd cope trying to go through the hospital. Sighing softly he began walking in a small circle.
"Sweet heart, you in?" he asked, his voice not all that loud, almost distant. "I hope you are..."
full name • Seth Kenneth Cannon nicknames • n/a age • Twenty-Five birthday • May 1st occupation • Unemployed currently gender • Male sexuality • Confused
the appearance
face claim• Michael Camiloto
identifying features• Pale eyes underneath a near permanent scowl. Has a lot of scars that he likes to hide, but there are smaller ones that he's fine with.
the personality
likes • Solitude/Isolation, Music, Bonsai Trees, Animals [general], Being Organised, Dance dislikes • Summer, Needles, Large Groups/Crowds, Violence, Blood, High Pitched Noises strengths • Natural Leader, Hiding his issues weaknesses • Struggles with complex tasks, Flight Response Ruined dreams • Undecided fears • Small, Closed Spaces overall personality • Seth is an oddity. He's charming, confident, loyal, forward and brave that means well in all he does, yet under the surface there's a hidden side. Underneath the charm there is a much more unstable side brought on from failings in life and harm done as he matured. He is smart, but it tends to take him a lot longer to work through a task than most.
the history
father • Carlyle Cannon [Non-Bio Father], 70, Architect mother • Rene Cannon [Non-Bio Mother], 68, Salon Owner siblings •--- important people • --- hometown • Kent, England overall history • -- **Hints/Mentions Abuse**
Seth was largely unwanted from the start, his mother dying shortly after his birth and left to live with his strictly religious father. He was dumped at six weeks old in a hospital, found hours later by cleaning staff in a restricted area crying his little lungs out. Upon assessment, the reason for his crying was made vastly clear - underfed and branded on his chest an upside down cross. He was immediately taken into care and raised in the system. It was touch and go for several weeks before Seth stabilized and recovered enough to be given to a foster family until he could be adopted.
He grew up well in a loving home to begin with before he was adopted out to the Cannon family where he grew up completely. They dealt with his past as best they could, but Rene was always saddened by the mark whenever she saw it which Seth took note of, even as a toddler. He was a fast learning child with more inclination towards sports, though his passion for dancing would always chase him. He was seven when he was taken to the doctors for a routine health check where he was discovered to have a lack of taste buds and diagnosed with Ageusia.
His school grades were always poor no matter what tutors he was given, and his parents just assumed it was him being difficult. It caused a degree of tension, but he kept trying for the sake of his parents and nothing else. However, upon hitting higher education in his teens, his inability to understand words in texts books saw him bullied often and pushed to the extreme limits of his patience. He was targeted, pulled into fights and forced to defend himself. This was the beginning of his decline.
His father was more disappointed than angry, and given that Rene was unwell, tensions rose until it hit crisis point. Seth ran away from home and was returned only two days later, to which his father belted him severely. Seth continued to run away and fought more and more until he was free. Being away from home, he dropped out of education and began living on the streets. At first he scrounged for change to buy food, before turning to stealing and evening picking the pockets of others. His crimes were small to begin with, but as he aged he began to get bolder.
He began breaking into homes to steal cash, clothes and food, though he was eventually caught at seventeen after meeting a particularly nasty German Shepherd that left him with several deep bites. Sent straight to Juvenile Detention, he was sentenced to three years - where, upon turning eighteen, was sent to a proper prison. After release at twenty years old, he was re-arrested only two weeks later after turning violent on a couple who refused his demands. It was in prison that he suffered at the hands of inmates. No one seemed to care, and when he tried to bring it up with Wardens, they merely laughed. Confused and ashamed, he kept his mouth shut and hasn't told a soul about what has happened to him.
Now out of prison, he has moved away from Kent and landed himself in Hickstead with the vague hopes that things might just be a tad bit different. The words of his former Warden saying that he would just re-offend and end back up in prison has spurred him to try and stay out of it - but old habits are hard to break.
Notes; - Affected by Ageusia; cannot taste anything, can sense heat from spicy foods. - Cannot Read; serious Dyslexia unresolved. - Highschool Drop Out. - Has nervous ticks; fidgets when idle, shakes hands, bounces leg. - Has a Record with the Police/Justice System. - Brand mark is faded, but still has no feeling to it.
the role player
alias • BlackJack, Jac age • Mid 20s other characters • Millions...