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Post by Cara-Jean Kitchi on Dec 1, 2011 2:16:20 GMT -5
Cara stood in the tack room, her treasured Rodrigo Pony saddle on a cleaning rack, the padded pony bridle on a hook not too far away. The girl was dressed simply in a school tracksuit - something she had purchased shortly after her arrival here as she liked to wear a school uniform of sorts when she wasn't in class or the arena and she had always worn a uniform while schooling in England so it was something that made her feel comfortable. Her obsidian black hair was pulled back in a tight french braid which was then folded over under and clipped into place with a bow also in the school colours - this she had made herself. With the stirrup irons in one bucket of warm water and the simple snaffle bit in another, she turned her attention to cleaning the oakbark coloured leather of the saddle. Reaching into the bucket of warm water, she flinched slightly as she closed her hand around the cloth. Shaking off the pain from the bruise that encircled her wrist, she squeezed the water from the cloth before rubbing it onto the saddle soap and then rubbing the soap into the leather in a circular motion. She lot herself into the rhythm of the work as she went over each part of the saddle with analytical care. Her mind was a million miles away though as she went through the events of the past week, her riding sessions, the academic classes, her own stringent training and the time she tried to spend avoiding having to talk to anyone. She knew that her idiosyncrasies tended to rub a lot of people the long way, as did her need to remain private, but she was who she was and there wasn't anything she wanted to change. Or truth be told, there wasn't anything she could change. Who she was and how she did things had been drilled into her with excruciating care. |
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Post by Thoroughbred on Dec 1, 2011 18:18:48 GMT -5
Trey walked into the barn, his vintage grey-ish jeans covering his paddock boots. I haven't been here in forever, he thought. He didn't like riding that much; it was too girly to him. But his dad was the head coach of the equestrian team, so he was forced to ride. Although he wasn't as polished of a rider as everyone else was. He was on the junior varsity team, unlike his successful varsity-rider sister. Doesn't matter if she's better than me. I'm on varsity football and I play more sports than her anyways, he thought.
He was about to go get the horse he borrowed from the school out of it's stall, but saw someone through the window of the tack room. Is that Cara? he wondered, walking into the tack room to see if he was right. He was correct.
"Hey, what are you up to?" he asked in a friendly voice. "Long time no see," he added jokingly. He coolly outstretched a hand, pressing it flat against the wall a foot in front of Cara.
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Post by Cara-Jean Kitchi on Dec 2, 2011 1:56:56 GMT -5
Once she had finished soaping the saddle, Cara moved on to the bridle. Part of her wished that there was music playing, but she wasn't going to try and find a music source. And anyway, she could have music later when she was training. While she rubbed away the non-existent dirt on the brow band, she raised up onto her toes as though she were wearing her pointe shoes. She was so absorbed in what she was doing that she had failed to pay attention to her surroundings and the sound of a male's voice made her jump and the soles of her feet returned to the ground.
She decided not to respond to his question as she was sure it was rhetorical as it was fairly obvious what she was doing. As his hand met the wall Cara drew in a breath and pulled back slightly, suddenly uncomfortable with his invasion of her personal space, but not brave enough to actually take a step back. She closed her eyes momentarily before she opened them again and returned her attention to the bridle, running the damp soapy cloth down the cheek latch.
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Post by Thoroughbred on Dec 2, 2011 23:35:00 GMT -5
Trey ran his fingers through his hair with his free hand and fidgeted a bit. "Or you could ignore me, that's cool, too," he said calmly, quickly changing the subject. "So are you busy later?" he asked in a friendly tone. He looked towards her eyes, waiting for her to look up at him.
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Post by Cara-Jean Kitchi on Dec 3, 2011 2:26:14 GMT -5
Cara bit her lip at his words. "I am not ignoring you, Sir." She replied softly, without a hint of sarcasm. "I just guessed that telling you I am cleaning a bridle would be speaking the obvious." She bent down to the buckets on the floor and dropped the cloth into the bucket with the dirty water. Shifting to the bucket of clean water she dipped her right hand in. Her left hand hovered over her right wrist, about to pull the sleeve up before she stopped herself.
Taking in a deep breath, she gritted her teeth and closed her hand around the cloth. However, she wasn't able to stop herself from flinching as the muscles tightened around the bruise and a pain shot up her arm as she wrung the cloth out. Straightening up again, she used the damp cloth to remove any soap residues off the leather.
She glanced over at Trey, looking at him through her eyelashes. "Busy?" She repeated. She had a whole new training regime to work out as well as her school work and making sure that Shay was taken care of. "I'm not sure." She couldn't make herself tell and outright lie, but she could bend the truth a little as what she had to do wouldn't go into a category that she would class as busy.
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Post by Thoroughbred on Dec 3, 2011 18:07:30 GMT -5
Trey decided that arguing with Cara [over his question] was pointless and would make him look like a douchebag. Cara's seemingly-constant busyness was beginning to make Trey lose interest in her. "Alright, well let me know when you're free - we're bound to see each other a lot here, so maybe we can ride together or something. Or let Summer know when you're free, she can call me about it," he said, taking his hand off of the wall and making a mental note to come to the stable more often.
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Post by Cara-Jean Kitchi on Dec 4, 2011 1:05:18 GMT -5
Cara chewed on her lower lip. Being Summer's brother, and the son of the equestrian coach, she guessed that Trey would have quite a bit of power in the social standings of the school, and sure, she loved being unnoticed in the shadows, but she didn't want to be the butt of everyone's jokes.
"S'il vous plaît, attendre!" She spoke up quickly before he could leave the room - her voice slightly louder then her normal whisper. She then she shook her head at the use of French lyrics and translated her own words. "Please, wait." She chewed on her lower lip as she rose onto the balls of her feet to stretch out her calf muscles, not wanting to ruin the toes of her boots by going en pointe. "If you are not busy later, could I ask for you to be my spotter?" Her gymnastics training was an important (and private) part of her day - the end of and the start - but she knew that training without a spotter was frowned upon and could potentially ban her training if she were caught, and this evening she wanted to work on the bars. Although the most difficult apparatus, but as she had no intention of missing the bars, all Trey would need to do is stand there.
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Post by Thoroughbred on Dec 4, 2011 9:28:47 GMT -5
"Sure," he said smoothly, realizing he didn't know what that was. "What do I have to do, make sure you don't fall?" Trey asked with a charming half smile.
His phone started ringing in his pocket. Shit, that's awkward he thought. "Sorry, my bad, he said, genuinely meaning it. He read the phone's screen to make sure it was no one important. Sasha, the screen read. He rolled his eyes and hung up on her. He dropped his phone back into his jean's pocket. Way to call now, he thought, annoyed. He knew how girls worked - every time a girl was calling him while he was with another girl, they got super pissed off.
(OOC: sorry for the short posts)
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Post by Cara-Jean Kitchi on Dec 5, 2011 0:24:44 GMT -5
Cara nodded her head. "Yes, Sir." She replied. "The job of a spotter is to make sure I don't break my neck if I slip."
She fell silent as his phone started ringing, and while he was distracted, she took the opportunity to have a look at the bruise that encircled her wrist. Pulling the sleeve of her jacket up to her elbow, she studied the ugly black and purple mark, which was obviously from a hand as she could see where each finger had been. She clenched and unclenched her hand, just testing the flexor muscles. Sure, they hurt, but she could push the pain away.
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Post by Thoroughbred on Dec 5, 2011 21:04:02 GMT -5
Trey carefully watched as the girl out of the corner of his eye as she pulled up her sleeve. He looked back up at her. "What's wrong?" he asked, referring to the fact that she was examining her arm. Probably just a bug bite or something, Trey assumed.
He wondered why Sasha was calling him, he always avoided her and hadn't spoken to her since last school year.
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Post by Cara-Jean Kitchi on Dec 6, 2011 3:06:42 GMT -5
Cara jumped when Trey spoke and she quickly pulled the sleeve of her jacket down. "It's nothing." She replied. "I got into a little trouble earlier, but it's nothing." She knew that she'd probably spoken a little too quickly, but it was hard to try and fit together a story that was the truth but not the complete truth. Obedience was a lesson she'd been taught at an early age, and to be obedient, she couldn't lie, but the noose on that was that she also could not speak of what went on between her and her social worker.
She blew a breath out through her lips. "If you are not doing anything, I will be in the gym after dinner." She would go earlier, but she would just spend some time warming up and playing on the beam until he arrived. "Do not feel you have to be there though if you have other things to do."
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Post by Thoroughbred on Dec 6, 2011 16:33:48 GMT -5
Trey rolled his eyes when Cara said she was in a "trouble."
"Trouble is my middle name," he forced out. For once he said this without trying to show off or be a flirt. He was well aware of what it felt like to be guilty and have tough consequences - he hoped Cara had not had the same consequences as he had in the past.
"I'll try to be there ASAP," he said sincerely. He made a mental note to put on his phone calendar that he had to show up to the gym after dinner.
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Post by Cara-Jean Kitchi on Dec 7, 2011 17:18:34 GMT -5
Cara arched her eyebrows at his comment about him and trouble. "Trouble and I are very good acquaintances." She told him without a hint of irony. "Too good some would begin to think."
She bowed her head when he said that he would be at the gym. "Thank you. I need to finish this bridle so that I can get the rest of Shay's tack cleaned." She bit her lip when a yawn threatened to escape her and managed to shake it off. "I will see you after dinner." There was something about this male that intrigued her. She didn't like talking at the best of times, so why was it so easy to talk to him? Be obedient to all, but don’t disobey me. Tell only the truth, but speak nothing of what happens here. I care about you, but I can and will hurt you if I feel fit. The words of her social worker floated through her head, and she knew that she needed to keep a leash on what she said to Trey.
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