it is inherited, predispositional. (open)

[meg]

The little mare had leapt and pranced and danced all the way to the arena, and she didn’t even have a saddle on her back yet. This whole lunging business was going to be interesting.

Normally Charles thought that lunging was the wuss’s way of getting excess energy out of a horse, and he would much rather sit out the bucks and rears than go through the undignified embarrassment of chasing your horse around from the ground. However, he wasn’t game enough to get on a fresh off the track thoroughbred who was high on TLC and oats without a little bit of energy taken out of her. Probably more than a little, thought Charles as he watched the mare do silly half rears and spook at the spring air that engulfed them.

He pushed the rubber end of his lunge whip towards little Lacey, and she took off at full gallop. As muscly as he was, he had to lean his whole weight on the red rope that connected his hand with her mouth. Within a millisecond the rest of the rein had disappeared from where is was coiled in his hand, and the mare was galloping on a full twenty meter circle. She resisted at every point, her hind quarters swinging out, and head being the only part of her that actually was on the circle that Charles wanted. Charles was leant back against the rope, his hands working methodically. Tug tug, soft. Tug tug, soft. Tug tug, soft.

“Woah, little lady,” He said, the exact phrase his German coach used to use with fruit loops such as this one.

This scene of commotion went on for about twenty minutes, by the end of which both horse and rider were dripping with sweat. Charles had softly chanted every traditional soothing collection of words, and part of A Comedy of Errors, which he happened to be studying in English. The mare, probably from sheer exhaution, came back to a canter, with limbs flailing everywhere. Although the foam was thick between the bay’s buttocks and on her neck, Charles was definitely not finished with her yet.

I swear when I grow up, openskis
I won't just buy you a rose, three-fifty, because I don't want to tire Lacey too much
I will buy you a flower shop, The Gambler by the ever-so-amazing Fun.
And you will never be lonely.
Just take my hand, and know that I will never leave your side this was made by meg.

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[Onzy]

Jemma led the nervous grey mare from the pastures, the cotton lead rope slack. Folly wanted nothing to do with this idea of leaving her comfort zone of the pastures, but since the auction all Jemma had been doing was build trust between herself and the mare. There was also the case of mental scars that were so ingrained in the mare that it was difficult to even approach the mare. Folly seemed to think that she was defined by her past, and Jemma was trying to change that. There was no way that she could ever just leave the mare to suffer. Now, after two weeks, it was time to try Joining Up with the mare. It could be a potential for disaster.

Jemma herself was feeling the strain. Between six horses, school and planning a wedding, there just didn't seem to be enough hours in a day. She wondered if life had ever been like this on the ranch when she lost her mother, and the answer was a definite no. Then there was her grandfather and others who were willing to help. There was time to get everything done, and now it was herself. Tell her father about her strains, and he would tell her to cut down on her work. Which mean't leave Ever and Eagle, sell one or two of her own horses and focus on school. She just couldn't bear that thought. Even Ever and Eagle who didn't belong to her was like family. Eagle had made so much progress, and Ever was close to foaling.

Folly wasn't vicious, just opinionated, and the mare bucked and reared every few steps. Jemma ignored the antics and carried on walking. The round pen seemed even further away than usual, and it was hard to believe. As they approached, Jemma could see that someone else had beaten them to it. The horse in the arena was covered in sweat and obviously tiring. She watched, knowing that some wouldn't appreciate her interference, but the filly had spirit, and her sheer determination to fight could be seen clearly.

WORDS! words
STATUS! COMPLETE
TAGS! Meg
NOTES! say anything
INSPIRATION! Kinky Robot
CREDITS! Template By arro @ Caution!
Pic By Onzy
LYRICS! "Mine" by Taylor Swift

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[meg]

Although her pace had slowed, the thoroughbred was showing of the stamina typical of her breed as she kept steadily kicking up the sand around the pen, her hoof beats methodical. Despite the fact that Lacey was positively dripping with sweat, her canter still gobbled up the ground like a hungry beast, although her strides were not as open as they had been in a gallop.

Charles still had firm contact on the lunge rope, and his hands still made the same even tug tug, soft rhythm, but he was not putting as much of his muscle into the mare as he had been before. Indeed, her shape and begun to get better, and her weedy hind quarters followed her head around more now. The circle was more circular.

Suddenly something in the mare snapped. Possibly it was the fact that Charles had begun discussing Freuds ‘Schreber’ case with the mare, but it was more likely that she had decided to accept Charles as the winner of this particular battle. Her strides became long and floaty, and the muscles throughout her back began to loosen and stretch foreword and downward. Her neck started to relax also, and although it was not trailing on the ground, as Charles would ideally like it to be, he knew it would get there. He found himself shushing the whip at the mare’s bum to keep her from coming back to a trot. After a circle and a bit of this, He slowed her to a walk with a basic ‘woah,’ a line that had much less depth than either Freud or Shakespeare, but seemed to have much more effect. As she transitioned, Charles let his body language relax and slip into neural, his personal way of letting the mare know she had done the right thing. Her halt was not perfect, as she turned in, pranced a little bit and didn’t want to keep still, but it was much better than the flat tack ugly gallop that had possessed the mare at the start of the session.

Charles started to loop up the lunge rope and move towards the mare, and it was not until he had unclipped the hook from Lacey’s bit that he noticed the girl standing with her horse outside the round pen. The pair would probably had gone unnoticed for longer had Lacey not spooked at the girl’s horse doing a little half-rear on the spot.

Charles was mortified. Not only had he taken up the round pen when this girl was obviously wanting it, he had seemingly ignored her presence. And she probably had heard him talking about Freudian theory with his horse, which would make him look like a complete mad man.

That was the problem with a school where there were both genders- there were that many eligible young ladies around, and he had to watch himself wherever he went. Back at Eton, he could much around with the lads, and not have it take too much of a serious impact on his future. There were many girls at the Park who were of social status that his father would be quite happy with him marrying. Before he even got to the school his father had invited a number of parents of suitable girls around for dinner, to assess their potential.

Other than the fact that there was a chance that this girl was his future wife, there was the pure, human embarrassment factor. He looked like an idiot, discussing psychotherapy and high-class literature with his feral horse. The horse wasn’t anything special either, a gangly thoroughbred that didn’t look at all like the type of horse that someone of status would have.

“My,” Charles began, sorting out a little apologetic speech out in his head “I am so sorry. I didn’t notice you standing there. I just got too wound up in…” he paused, and looked towards his horse, who was standing quite calmly now. “Stuff,” he finished. “I shouldn’t think I’d be too much longer, if you’d care to wait.”

With those words he pushed the mare out onto the opposite circle. Sure as his words, with a circle and a half of canter and a big flying buck, the mare came back into a trot. There wasn’t even a stride of gallop this time, compared to the previous twenty minutes. Again, her muscles relaxed and her neck dropped even further this time, and although her ears were still very much fixed in every which direction that sound came from, she was not nearly as affected by these as she had been previously. Although some of this was sheer physical exhaustion, Charles was fairly sure that a factor of this was that she had put some, even if just a tiny amount, of her trust in Charles, and as any good horseperson would tell you, trust is the key to a good relationship. Is it not the basis of any relationship, human or animal?

Unlatching the gate, Charles watched the other girl stand calmly as her horse bucked and reared, not dissimilarly to what Lacey had been like before she had been won over in their session. He was impressed.

“I’m so sorry about the wait there,” he said, “Charles Evans. And I’d shake your hand, only I wouldn’t like to see how my wild beast would react,” was the way he made his introduction. He walked the foaming, steaming mare around just on the perimeter of the round yard to cool her down.

“Would it be possible for me to cool my horse down up here?” Charles questioned, having had manners drummed into him from a young age. He liked to see what other people were doing with their horses, and as this one looked fairly similar to Lacey in education, there was always the possibility of learning something that would benefit them both in the future.


I swear when I grow up, Jemma
I won't just buy you a rose, nine-eight-four- and I was so aiming for a thousand :s
I will buy you a flower shop, The Gambler by the ever-so-amazing Fun.
And you will never be lonely. sorry about the length, kudos if you ger through it

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[Onzy]

Jemma chose leave the other student in peace, and instead focussed on Folly. She gently reeled in the lead rope, giving the mare the choice of coming closer. Jemma was gladdened to see that the mare didn't resist, but also didn't take a step closer. From what she had learned at the Auction, Folly had been broken in, literally. Tied to a post for days without food or water. Then she would have a saddle placed on her and a 'cowboy' would get on and beat her. Slowly Folly's spirit had been broken, and the shards of what could've been a beautiful horse was what Jemma had bought at the Auction. Folly still showed that spark and zest at times, but what she exhibited was a mean and angry horse, hating the world and the people in it.

For once Callum would be no help. Her fiancee had helped her with Spartan and Sherlock, but Folly wouldn't allow anyone that she didn't know near her. Thinking about it, the only 'normal' horse was DJ and even that mare had attitude issues. Taking a step closer to Folly she waited for the mare's reaction. Reading the mare was the easy part. The mare was alert but wary, and she didn't push the issue. Horse and human stared at each other. Folly snorted and broke eye contact. Jemma took a step back out of respect. She indistinctly heard the other student talking to his horse, and the conversation also interested Folly, but once again the mare's distrust shone through. Folly half-reared, her eyes wild with hate and malice.

Jemma crooned the mare softly, singing a lullaby her mom had taught her. Folly calmed down, but still pranced on the spot, mane dancing as she arched her neck. Pulling down her stetson to shade her eyes, she watched Folly carefully. Folly watched her. She saw the muscles of the mare twitching, and moved out of the way just in time to avoid the mare's teeth connecting. Jemma was used to the biting, Spartan having done the same thing after the accident. A British accented vocal interrupted her thoughts, and she turned to face the student. Take your time. I'm in no rush, she answered with a smile, her attention remaining with Folly.

If she wasn't happily engaged, then she would have said that this student was especially handsome, but then again there was something appealing about Callum that suited her. These high English boys were just one too many. Folly was getting restless, it could be seen how she kicked and reared every few minutes. Thankfully the other student finished up quickly, and as he left Jemma walked forward. Jemma McLaughlin. It's a pleasure to meet you, she said with a smile once again. Folly bared her teeth, and Jemma made sure to keep a distance between the other pair. She nodded at his next question, knowing that it would be okay.

Latching the gate she turned to Folly and removed the mares halter. Removing the lead rope, she put the halter in the middle of the pen, and turned to face Folly again. Swinging the rope, she tapped the mare on the rump and watched as Folly exploded. Cutting the mare off, Jemma chased her in the direction that she wanted. Folly snorted, her nostrils flaring and her head high in the air. Jemma kept the mare moving by following, and waving her arms about if the mare slowed down. She allowed Folly to change direction and the process went on in the opposite direction. Join-Up was sometimes a long process, and Jemma sensed that it would be no different with Folly.

After 20 minutes Folly's coat was darkened with sweat and her breaths grunting. Jemma was driving the mare, and she would do so until the horse accepted her. Then the first sign came through. It was small, but it was there. The mare's inside ear twitched toward her. Jemma carried on, relentless. The mare's movement softened as her muscles relaxed. Folly lowered her neck and started chewing. Jemma laid off the horse, allowing Folly to slow to a walk. Turning her back on the mare, she waited. Folly stepped forward slowly, and breathed into Jemma's neck. Jemma took a few steps forward, and Folly followed.

WORDS! 717
STATUS! COMPLETE
TAGS! Meg
NOTES!
INSPIRATION! The Phantom of the Opera
CREDITS! Template By arro @ Caution!
Pic By Onzy
LYRICS! "Mine" by Taylor Swift

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