|
|
Post by Fran O'Brien on Jun 20, 2009 22:22:25 GMT -6
just a quiet saturday afternoon...
The SAS show jump was rapidly approaching so Fran was beginning to really try and remove the rotund belly that had lingered on his 'apple' shaped horse. Right now the pace was a steady four beat walk. Although the red head was no horse expert, he did know how to care for the creature beneath him. Thoroughbreds were known for power, strength, and being very breakable. A nice calm walk-up and a slow trail ride after ensured that the beast's tender inside wouldn't colic. In fact, Fran was almost obsessive over the gelding's health. Tedious hoofcare, cut treatment, grooming, and exercise reflected their relationship style. The two were doctor and patient as well as friend and friend.
After a steady four laps around the rail, Fran pushed Skylark into a trot. His legs were held in place while he posted by the beautiful Tad Coffin saddle with the convenient blocks built in. It was a jaunty pace made almost smooth by the leggy gelding's gigantic strides. The increased pace caused the steed to turn on searching mode, as his owner tagged it. Red harks twitched around and head arched up as high as he could hold it without altering his trot. A bare hand patted the already sweaty horse's neck. Fran muttered under his breath, "Oh boy, we really do need to get in shape..." The pair reversed through the middle of the ring. Deftly, the rider switched his posting to the correct diagonal and eased the spooky thoroughbred into a slight inward bend to keep his attention on moving forward. A butterfly flittered in front of the thoroughbred's head, causing a slight jerk sideways. Fran realized he had forgotten to breath as the tiny insect flew by. It was amazing how riding could change a peaceful monarch butterfly into a fearsome object that would send shivers down a grown boy's spine.
The duo slowed back down to a walk to pace over the set of poles that Fran had laid out before hand. It was a simple set of six mismatched poles for Skylark to navigate over. Alternating the side which he applied pressure to made the horse move into a working walk at which the pair approached the poles. Although they struck some of the poles, it was a nice peaceful day for a good work-out ride...
Muse - Meh, better than usual
Mood - Whimsical
Words - 390
Status - Finished and open to anybody!
[/font][/color] |
|
|
|
Post by Liesel Eternity Wolf <3 on Jun 22, 2009 6:24:58 GMT -6
Liesel mounted Windsong swiftly, excitement bubbling in her. With the SAS show jumping competition drawing nearer, her and Windy needed to train. The Hanoverian nickered softly, stamping his hoof impatiently. Clucking her to tongue, the two made their way up to the ring, Liesel taking note to be aware of the other pair of horse and rider that already circled the arena. Urging her horse forward, the two walked around the ring once, Liesel setting the pace at a fast, pretty looking pace. Reaching the point where they started out from, Liesel clicked her tongue and Windsong started into a trot. While Liesel posted, she made sure of the obvious; shoulders back and arched, lean forward slightly, massage Windy's mouth by rubbing her finger on the reins, heels down. The two trotted around the ring as one. Cutting sharply across the ring, Liesel smoothly changed diagonal.
Notes - Sorry it's so short, I had a very limited amount of time =)
Word Count - 149
|
|
|
|
Post by Kc Smith on Jun 23, 2009 15:00:16 GMT -6
Humming. He was humming.
He never thought he'd hum in forever, really, but as he rode silently across the grass, he started. Not like it wasn't really unusual for a human to hum a tune or two. But today, he was actualy humming something. Interesting, really, as he looked around in silence, his horse trotting towards the outdoor arena. Or rings as Kc had always called it. It never looked just like one arena, but many in one area. Persoanly, he just wanted to train today. He had left Rex at him in the air conditioning, with the newly installed doggie door open for him to openly use any time he wanted. Kc knew his K9 friend would enjoy going in and out as he pleased. The wind was slightly moving around the area as they trotted closer to the man-made ring, the stallion's ears purked as he watched patienly. He was ready he knew it. But something was different. Oh yeah, right. There were people there.
Kc gave a frustrated sighed, tugging on the reins and asking his horse to stop. Spite gave a disapointed snort, wondering why on earth his owner made him stop when they were only several yards away. Of course, he didn't hate some people as much as his owner did, so the creature wouldn't know that much about it until he started hating humans. Again. Kc eyed the girl in the arena, though he thought he heard someone else approaching now. Maybe another rider with their horse. Now that would be interesting, wouldn't it? A three-way show down. He chuckled inwardly at the thought. But he knew he couldn't just stand here and look stupied. Or be a jackass to other people around here, either. It could get him sent back home, and ruin his reputation. If he had one, that it.
Gently, he flicked the horse's reins, making the stallion lurch forward into a slow and steady. And in a non-threatening way. They stopped short on the fence, Kc watching slowly as horse and rider preformed some sort of event. Kc smirked as he watched, Spite watching the Gelding that the human was on. He looked kinda interested about what they were doing. kc stayed quiet thoguh, not wanting to make them mess up when he said something. All he did as dropp the reins and lean forward, resting his arms on his horse's neck as he waited quietly for the rider to notice him. Of course, he didn't care much for talking to other people. He liked animals more than human because you could trust them more than you could with someone who could talk back to you. Heh. Now that he though about it, it would seem much better if he knew what animals thought about him.
Very poorly, probably.
Muse: Pretty Good Actualty.
Word Count: 465.[/font][/color]
|
|
|
|
Post by Fran O'Brien on Jun 24, 2009 17:00:40 GMT -6
Enough slacking, onward!
Ugh, others were here. The redhead didn't particularly like riding with others because then the riding road laws seemed to fall in place. You couldn't work the rail the whole time because others were there. Well, it was a big enough arena but when other came it seemed so much smaller.
The first one to intrude was a snooty looking girl on a warmblood. Although Fran usually didn't tell people, he hated showhorses. Skylark was not exactly a push-button child loving creature. He had intelligence, and Fran liked that. Come on, anything that leaps over huge obstacles, looks pretty, and isn't scared of anything simply has no personality. The manly category would work if said showhorse was not pretty. But they always have to be preeeettyyy stallions. It disgusted him. Sure, the sweaty thoroughbred beneath him got groomed. But the horse would kick your face off if you tried hoof polish or those wierd coat vacuums.
Then the next was a big 'ole horse. It's neck donned a massive black mane. The coat was sheer ebony, making the creature almost looked like a steed fit for the grim reaper. Luckily it was a guy instead of a girl. There were too many girls who liked horses. What ever happened to the knights? And why are there so many male riders in the olympics when you never see them at shows? It was a mystery.
Skylark swished his tail and started trotting impatiently. Fran's steady hands pulled back in the gelding's mouth and brought him back to a walk. He laughed, and said, "Alright boy, lets go..." With the very gentlest squeeze of his legs, the horse took off with a jolt.
Today was relatively windy, good for the humans and terrifying for the horses. The pair gained speed at a steady rate, the steed's head rising with every length. The chestnut gelding's ears flicked around rapidly, catching in all the sounds they could gather. Fran knew it was coming, and steeled himself. He pulled back on the reins and attempted to turn him to the inside, which often helped.
Out of nowhere, a bird flew from a bush in his direction. The very flexible 15 year old gelding lept horizontally from the bush, taking off into a full on bolt. Fran lost both his stirrups and took to a death grip on the mane. The horse turned a corner and the 21 year old smacked into the rail. He flopped on the ground while his horse took to flight. After three laps, the gelding came to a walk. Fran groaned and stood up shakily, holding on to the rail for support. Damnit, that horse was gonna get it...
-words: 448, low but a bit of action in there for yall
-muse: pretty good methinks
-fancy little header images: icky, need to fix it!
-mood: ouch!
[/font][/color]
|
|
