|
![](showimage.php?loc=../uploads/avatars/292725_1605.jpg)
Darkseeker
|
Crew had done his best not to get too drunk, he didn't particularly want to start off the school year with a raging hangover, but having a good deal of alcohol was part of the main event, and he wasn't about to lose his reputation as one of the school's top party boys. He been sipping whatever cheap beer they had in Sweden, when a group of smashed students swelled around him, laughing and bantering. He didn't want to let them go unsupervised, and he was just tipsy enough that following them sounded interesting. They moved quickly, making their way down the well-worn path towards the barns. He swayed slightly, confused as they paused, but the odd little parade got moving again. Back in the Main Hall, they turned the music up louder, and he grinned, feeling the beat deep inside his chest. The lights seemed to get brighter somehow, and he assumed they'd thrown a couple more windows open, the music pouring across the lawn alongside the slowly growing group of intoxicated students. He stumbled on a rock, and sloshed half his beer down the blonde girl that had been hanging off him for most of the evening, and she wandered off, probably to try to find a towel and a clean outfit. He honestly hoped she was going back to her dorm-room, and drink some water, but that was only a small thought in the back of his squelching mind, and he moved on quickly. The posse continued down, but Crew paused to toss his empty beer can in a bin already nearly overflowing with cans, and by the time he'd pulled himself together again, they were mostly too far for him to catch up, and he didn't want to run...He honestly didn't think he could, the path was rocky and he didn't want to fall and break his beautiful face. He started to follow them down, and was mostly caught up when a girl came up to him. Confusion passed across his face as she started yelling at him, and he did his best to understand, but he was mostly caught up in the fact that it didn't look like she'd been partying. She was wearing what looked like pajamas, and her hair was slightly mussed, like she'd been trying to sleep. The girl had a vaguely Swedish accent, and his reeling mind was first put off by her immediate yelling at him, and also trying to comprehend her words through her accent. He knew Swedish well, he'd had to learn it before being allowed to attend the Academy, but it was still a little hard for him to catch. Crew stared at her for a moment, trying to push another vaguely annoying sophomore off of him, though she managed to create a dark hickey on his neck before he pulled her off. "Fucking leech," he muttered, irritated, pausing to make sure the girl was fully gone. "Look, babe, I'll do my best, but half of them are black-out drunk, and the other half don't wanna miss anything interesting," he said sympathetically. As he turned to go, out of the corner of his eyes, he saw a blur of horse, but ignored it at first. It was clearly not one of his babies, Stetson was grey, and Gatsby was pale as cream. However once the girl screamed at him, clearly irritated, some of the fog cleared from his brain, and he sobered up as best he could, hurrying down to the barn. He rounded up the students, and went off at the upperclassmen, making it clear that they should know better, and a few other choice words for the freshman, who just wanted to be liked. Crew shoved a few guys out into the night, and after a few seconds, the rest of the people followed, guiltily making their way back up towards the Main Hall. Crew wasn't sure whether to follow or not. On one hand, he wasn't sure the students would make it all the way back up to the building without help and direction, and he wasn't about to get called out by that girl again. But that was the problem, she'd yelled at him once, and she was chasing somebody's horse through the many acres that the Academy owned. Was she expecting help? Would she want it even if he offered it? He waffled for a moment, and gave one of the guys he knew a hard shove in the right direction, and then headed back down towards the barns. He walked around for a few minutes, but he had no idea which way the girl had gone, nor which way the horse had gone, so he picked a random direction, and set off, in search of the gelding. To his dismay, hours passed to no avail, and he ended up leaving the woods, muddy and exhausted a few hours before dawn broke. He went to bed without even showering, and fell asleep immediately, not even taking the sleeping pills he normally so heavily relied on. The next morning, he woke to a pounding on his door, and in his head. He stumbled over, and was met with a nervous looking freshman, who informed him that the headmaster had called for him in his office.
|
|
|
|
![](../images/neutral.png)
Neutral
|
Inga | Third Year | 10:47 | M: Crew, Jensen “I don’t mind. Really,” Jensen Eliopoulos had one leg crossed over the other, a neutral yet rigid and unfriendly look on his face. “He’s just a horse. We’ve got plenty more at home.” Then, with impatience that simply did not match his unyielding demeanor, Jensen moved to rise out of the chair. “May I go now?” Inga studied him with a sharp gaze, wondering what it had taken to get to this point in the young man’s life. He clearly cared more about leaving the meeting than he did about his own horse, one Inga knew from extensive research and experience had won a plethora of awards under a multitude of top talent. “You can’t be serious,” she insisted, her icy gaze looking him over for any sign of a crack in his facade. “Surely he’s more than just a horse to you?” Her blue gaze followed his to the headmaster, Jensen clearly looking for some sort of interference to utilize as a barrier between himself and the question, and Inga looking to see if he cared enough about the horsemanship of his students to allow an answer or press for one of his own. His silence remained somewhere in between them, not allowing her pervasive question to be shut down, but not forcing an answer out of him either. Before either could come, the American stepped through the door and into the grand office of the headmaster, looking more disheveled and unprepared for this meeting than he had at the party the evening prior. “Look at you,” she allowed her gaze to trail over his body in a way that emphasized judgment. “It’s almost as if I didn’t warn you that this was coming yesterday, is it not?” “Okay,” Jensen allowed his hands to fall to his knees. “I’m leaving now. Headmaster,” he nodded to the man, exiting the room as the interaction occurred between the two blonds. The young woman’s gaze followed him in a way that was supposed to intimidate him as he crossed the room, taking the seat across from her. She continued to study every detail of his misshapen appearance from his unstyled hair to his unpolished boots, not missing details such as the dark circles under his eyes and a much paler complexion than he typically wore. “Rough night?” “Miss Lundström," the headmaster warned. “Let’s get back on topic, shall we?” He turned to face Crew, watching the young man with a similar gaze to the one the young rider held. “There are some claims that you had something to do with the party that got out of hand last night, Mister Sinclair. I thought I’d give you a chance to defend yourself before I delegate out the consequences of both of your actions. The more honest you are, the better this will go for you. Both of you. I know you’re good students and I’m surprised to hear about this incident.” Despite both of their repeated protests, the headmaster seemed set in his decision after hearing from Crew and continuing to listen to Inga’s complaints that she had nothing to do with anything other than not getting down to the barn in time to prevent the other riders from allowing the gelding to escape. After hearing the pair of them bicker like children, he decided that instead of assigning them more chores and taking their riding time away, he would be forcing both of them to share responsibility for the roles they already had. Inga would be sharing Crew’s role of team captain of the higher show jumping team, and Crew would be sharing Inga’s role of event committee head until the pair could successfully work together. Although this only led them to fight more, they were soon thrown out of his office. “I’d like for you both to aid in the search for the missing horse, still,” the headmaster said as they were sent out. “Good, more time for us to ‘demonstrate disrespect for one another in a way that is inappropriate for this school,’” Inga shot back, mocking the headmaster’s words. Then, submitting to his authority, she added, “yes, headmaster,” meekly as the pair exited the room, left only with themselves, each other, and the tension that lingered from their argument and the consequences that followed.
|
|
|
|
![](showimage.php?loc=../uploads/avatars/292725_1605.jpg)
Darkseeker
|
Crew knew he looked awful, he'd been too startled to think before he'd gone, not evening bothering to brush his hair. So, when he walked into the Headmaster's office, he looked somewhat like an overgrown toddler. His neat linen shorts for the day before were crumpled, and low on his hips, and a large lacrosse hoodie across his broad shoulders. He flushed as he walked in partway through a conversation that had clearly been going on for a while, and started to head over towards an empty chair, but before he got there, the girl sitting across from the headmaster gave Crew a snide look, and not only brought up the comment that she'd screamed at him the night before, but raked her gaze down his body. He made a face back at her, making sure that she held his gaze. "Like what you see?" He shot back coldly, moving the chair slightly away from her, and sat down, shaking his head irritably. As her comments continued, he wrinkled his nose, and glared at her out of the corner of his eye. "Thanks to you. There were plenty of people just begging to get in my sheets, and you fucked up my evening, making me go search for an animal that I didn't loose." Just like the playboy that he believed himself to be, he absentmindedly started manspreading as he attempted to figure out what was actually going on in this weird conversation. After a few moments of being violently lost in the conversation, he finally realised that the other boy, who'd been standing across the room when he walked in, was the one whose horse had disappeared the night before. He leaned back in the chair, stifling a yawn. He was exhausted, hungover, and starving, and it was at the moment that it hit him that, in his rush, he hadn't taken his pills. A muscle in his jaw twitched, and he struggled to keep himself from jumping up, and leaving. The biggest reason that kept him firmly in his seat was the scowl that Inga had pinned him down with, and he wasn't about to risk his health for one girl, especially one who had absolutely no interest in anything that involved him. Crew turned his attention back to the Headmaster, desperate to clear his name. "Sir, I swear, I wasn't a part of it, I had no idea what they were doing," he said, his voice tired. "They were all drunk, and I was following them to make sure they didn't get into too much trouble, and when I stopped to throw away my beer-...my can...they got way ahead of me, and then this girl came out of nowhere and yelled at me, and before I could do anything, my 'posse' as she called it had already let the horse out. I went out to look for it right away, but the school has so much land! It's not even fully fenced in. The horse could be in fucking Norway by now," he argued, dragging a hand down his cheek. Despite the fact that he was a 6'2 man, and built like a gym rat, he wanted to cry at the Headmaster's next words. *Share his position as head of the best jumpers in the school?* He buried his face in his hands, trying not to scream, cry, or throw up, thinking it couldn't get any worse, when it did get worse. "WHAT?" He yelled standing up. "Events committee? I don't give two shits about half the events that go on here! Please, please, don't do this," he begged, his fingers tight on the back of the chair. His slender fingers gripped the metal ribbing on the chair like a lifeline, the rings cutting deep into his skin, his knuckles white. He was almost shaking with anger, and he was clearly desperate, but his pleas fell on deaf ears, and the Headmaster herded the two out of his office. It was at that point that their arguments began to mix, and it was a blur of trying to stay in the office, beg for mercy, or whatever he was willing to offer instead, all to no avail, and a moment later, the door slammed behind them. Crew rubbed his temples, and without a doubt the Headmaster was doing the same on the other side of the door. Crew eyed Inga warily, his gaze dark and tumultuous. He already knew this was going to be a disaster, and he couldn't handle the thought of first of all, being apparently disliked by someone, but also being stuck spending quality time with this aforementioned person. "Great," he muttered, leaning against the heavy wooden door. "This is bullshit, they can't make me do this." He straightened, and took a deep breath, his whole body seemingly deflated. However, he took a long moment, and after a long breath out, he looked quite different. Even though his outfit was still rumpled and wasn't even close to matching, he'd fixed his face: you could barely notice the dark circles under his eyes unless you were really looking, and he looked like the proud, easygoing boy that he was always portrayed as in the media. He ran a hand through his thick blond locks, and turned away from Inga, his jaw tight. "You're not actually gonna carry this out, right? I mean, I'll help look for the horse. Those guys were assholes, and I feel bad that they managed to loose someone else's horse. But...I'm not really interested in help with the team. We actually have a chance this year, and I really don't want to miss out on that. It's my last year. I won't get in the way of your party things either," he said, his tone slow and unsure. He wasn't at all sure that she would agree, in fact, he was pretty sure that she wouldn't. Inga didn't seem like the kind of girl to go against what the Headmaster said. It was worth a shot though, and he wasn't about to go down without a fight.
|
|
|
|
![](../images/neutral.png)
Neutral
|
Inga listened to him as he groveled, waiting for her to simply acquiesce to his wishes regarding staying out of his business if he stayed out of hers. While on one hand she wouldn’t have minded at all if he wanted to stay as far away from her as possible until the two of them graduated, and then if he went on to go to the opposite end of the world as her for as long as possible, she wasn’t stupid enough to miss that this awful and laborious task of being in the same vicinity as Crew Sinclair was a blessing in disguise. She would never have been picked as co-captain for the show jumping team in any other circumstance. She was a good rider, one who had easily been picked as the dressage team captain, but had only been show jumping for a handful of years at this point. On the other hand, Crew was surely being scouted by the American team due to his status here, and being his co-captain could get her recognized as a rising star of Sweden–one who could have so many more opportunities presented to her if she could tolerate his nauseating personality for a few short months–or continue to aggravate him so that the headmaster would consider extending her commitment to a second semester. “I’ll consider your offer and get back to you,” she stated plainly, completely unemotional and in direct contrast to the emotional episode that Crew had displayed just moments prior. Then, without another sentence, she began to make even, measured strides toward the door, calling over her shoulder for him. “I’ll make one thing very clear, I’ll be the one driving the ATV.” … Their pursuit through the woods was filled with mostly silence as Inga wasn’t willing to make small talk and the loud mechanical sounds of the vehicle drowned out any words or thoughts either might have had. Inga only looked back once to see that the blond had a death grip on the back of the vehicle, holding on for dear life as if it were her sole intention to kill him as opposed to doing what was asked of her. In fairness, she’d had the same concern about him, which is why she’d claimed the role of driver. In addition, she was one of the few riders who knew where the keys were, so she’d been at an advantage from the start. After no more than an hour of driving the perimeter, they spotted him just within the treeline near a cross country course on the opposite end of the campus. Luckily for everyone involved, he was too much of a herd animal to stray any farther, and he seemed perfectly fine with no scratches or noticeable injuries. They were able to call someone to come and get him soon after, and both made it back in time to attend their next class. Unwilling to be seen with Crew, which was likely a major shock to someone who always had throngs of women accompanying him everywhere, Inga put the vehicle away and waited for him to be preoccupied with something else so that she could exit freely without being noticed. With the crowd that surrounded him, she wasn’t entirely sure that he would have noticed her anyway, and that was fine by her. Although they were in the same class, it was a large, auditorium-style class, and held the majority of the students that were graduating from the academy in the spring. Inga typically sat in the very back of the class at the highest point, in the corner furthest away from the door. She didn’t like being called on enough to sit in the front, the middle was too mediocre and difficult to enter or exit, and the back corner allowed her to sit with a maximum of one person beside her, which was good enough for her. She tried her hardest not to draw attention to herself here outside of her academic and athletic performance. She knew that people like Crew were put on a pedestal and that the drama that surrounded them was often a hindrance to their success, especially when they didn’t have the Sinclair name to back them. Just as she was beginning to believe that the blond was going to skip class, her gaze found him in the massive auditorium as he entered. With any luck, he’d never realized that they had this class together, and he wouldn’t do everything in his power to annoy her. It had never mattered before to her or to him where the other was, but Inga had a suspicion that the fact that she owed him something–something big–would create a higher awareness of her in his mind. Despite the answer that she owed him, the blonde would drag it out for as long as possible, making him suffer as much as possible for as long as she could. Perhaps she’d even make him follow up with her, considering the fact that she’d not given him her phone number, he had no way of contacting her easily, and she didn’t intend to make that possible for him until well after she’d been taken up as his co-captain, if ever.
|
|
|
|
![](showimage.php?loc=../uploads/avatars/292725_1605.jpg)
Darkseeker
|
His shoulders slumped, and he shook his head slowly. He didn't want to wait for an answer, nor did he want to go with the girl in search of the horse, especially if she was going to drive. Crew felt god awful, without his normals meds, the migraines and the sort were coming back with a passion. He was still violently upset over what felt like being stripped of his authority over the jumping team, they were his group of people. Although the team's professional name was the Saint Katthult's Varsity Jumping Team, they were known within the jumpers as the Jumping Beans. He was very proud of the fact that he'd been able to be their captain, and the fact that this position wasn't fully his anymore irked him, and he hoped to the highest heavens that she would agree to leave them alone. The day was made even worse when he realised that she expected them to go out right away in search of the gelding, so there was no chance he could run back to his dorm and take any of his pills, so his day would continue on with pounding headaches, and crushing depression. How wonderful, he thought to himself, trailing after her to the ATV. Of course, she helped herself to the keys, and he wasn't about to cozy up to her on the actual seat of the vehicle, so he perched himself as far back as he could get, half sitting on the equipment cage. The ride was silent and uncomfortable, but thankfully short-lived. The gelding was easy enough to find and calm, and then it was out of their hands, so they made their way back. Crew slipped off the ATV as quickly as possible, leaning heavily on the barn wall. He was exhausted, and his head was throbbing so badly that he could barely see. His stomach heaved, and he preoccupied himself with watching some of the students unload the gelding, and by the time he'd somewhat pulled himself together, Inga was gone. He assumed she was very proud of herself for this, probably thinking that he'd be horrified that she didn't want to spend time with him, since to many eyes he seemed very full of himself, knowing that he was conventionally attractive. In truth, he was glad she was gone. He didn't want to spend any more time than was necessary with that stupid job stealer. His jaw tightened, and he was further dismayed as a group of underclassman who'd heard that not only was he in with some of the varsity teams, but was also cute and rich, swarmed around him, chattering unceasingly. He was starting to feel genuinely awful, and pushed away the closest students, hurrying back to his dorm room. There wasn't a lot of time before his first class, but he was entirely unwilling to go looking like he did. His normally perfectly styled hair was mussed, and he smelled like the outdoors, vaguely earthy and dark. Crew went back to his dorm, and showered as quickly as he could, making sure to take as many pills as he thought was safe, and hurried down to the main campus, towards one of the largest buildings. As he came up to the door, a wave of nausea hit him, and he paused a few feet away from the doors, shaking and shivering as he fought an internal battle to keep from throwing up. Finally, he stepped into the building, just in time too, as the professor started checking off attendance. He sat down in the back, close to most of the jumping team, who flocked around him, and he rested his head on the table, half awake, half in an odd, dream-like state. He vaguely wondered if the meds he'd taken hadn't mixed well, watching colours and dark specks dancing across his vision, and he squeezed his eyes shut with a shudder. Thankful, most of the students assumed he was just hungover from the night before; most of them were anyways. Because he was in the back of the strangely shaped classroom, the guys around him were able to talk, and mess around through the entire lecture, but they took pity on their pale, exhausted captain, and busied themselves with other, quieter endeavours so they wouldn't wake him. Even so, Crew wasn't sleeping, he was dwelling on the Headmaster's words, and their real meaning. He knew his plea of Inga keeping out of the team was never going to work, and he knew precisely why. He was a well-known and well-liked individual, especially in the school, and he was good at jumping. How else would he have gotten the position as captain? Nobody would turn down the possibility of being affiliated not only with the Beans, but also with the some of the top riders in the world? He already had multiple top tier event show jumping teams scouting him, and many of the other guys he knew did too. No-one was making decisions yet, but it was nice to have them lined up, with huge, competing offers. You'd have to be dumb to give up that chance. But then again...Crew was dead sure that the girl wasn't a good jumper. Average, maybe, but she hadn't been jumping long enough to actually deserve a place on the Beans, which irritated him the most. She probably felt the same way about him being on the stupid event planning team, but he had no intention of actually being any help, or even showing up to any of the planning anyways. The professor droned on, and Crew did his best to pay attention, but with the mix of meds and the soft lull of Mrs. Nordsiek's unusually low voice, he could tell he was starting to slip into a dreamless state, but he didn't want to doze off. He hated it when he woke up, and normally, class had been done for a while, and it was just the teacher in the front of the room, grading papers silently, quietly judging you. To his relief, one of the guys offered to wake him up once class was done, and he fell asleep quickly, his normally tense and neutral face relaxed, softened, lips slightly parted with soft breaths.
|
|
|
|
![](../images/neutral.png)
Neutral
|
Inga | Third Year | 13:15 | M: Crew, Jensen, Will Before she knew it, Inga’s last first class at St. Katt’s was over. Because the school featured a mix of academic and athletic classes, half of her day was spent in the school’s formal academic uniform, and half was spent in whatever team gear she’d been provided at the start of the year. It was, of course, a less strict dress code on the first day of class, seeing as everyone’s clothing was still being distributed–especially those who had to begin the semester late for whatever reason. Inga was not one of these people, however, and had come back to find her gear for the year laid out on her bed upon her arrival the day prior. She’d taken great care to iron it and wear the assigned clothing on the first day in order to be a role model to the new students, as she knew the staff were expecting. While she wasn’t as famous as some of the other students, she’d gained a prominent reputation among staff and faculty as an exemplary student, rider, and mentor. She was not about to lose that now, with recommendations and connections being so necessary so soon. As soon as the class ended, the blonde pushed her way past the other students in her row, including a sleeping blond she knew so well. She’d spent some of the class watching him in her peripheral vision, not closely enough to catch the attention of his dumb friends, but enough to allow her internal monologue to comment on all of his inadequacies as she could see them there. He was still wearing clothes that were not up to code–although they were approved for that week, and that week only–he was sleeping through class, and he’d not even cared so much as to put a comb through his hair. How she was about to allow someone like that to be in charge of anything relating to a job as detail-oriented as event planning, she had no idea, but it was somehow something that she was not only doing, but doing willingly. Allowing him to do that meant she didn’t even have to try out for a place on the varsity team, it’d be guaranteed. Which was good, considering the fact that joining Crew’s clique was a matter of status, and she’d not done anything to suck up to anyone during her time here–she was simply too independent to even attempt such a thing. Brushing past him coldly, Inga made her way across the lawn toward her dorm. When she arrived, she changed from her academic uniform into a pair of navy breeches, a white riding shirt, and the school belt and socks. She slipped into her riding boots and made her way down to the barn to the advanced showjumping section, which she’d been moved up to after her unparalleled success in the intermediate class in the past year, which left her unsuitable to stay there a second year. Beyond the riding teams, the instructors held general classes for each of the disciplines to tweak riders’ skills within school format, opting to work with the riders in small groups during this time to give them more attention. Unfortunately for her, these classes were in alphabetical order, and that meant that she and Crew made up half of their small group of four in the show jumping section. Arriving to the gelding barn to fetch Odin, the blonde weaved around several riders she recognized as members of Crew’s team. Jensen Eliopoulos, who she’d spent more time than she would have liked with that morning, and William Blue, the son of two of Team GB’s greatest riders, who’d retired to Germany to start a massive training and breeding operation. Despite this, their son always seemed to Inga to be massively unintelligent in all the ways that counted, and especially in the way that he wore all of his emotions outwardly instead of keeping them inside. While she navigated easily around Jensen, someone she was embarrassed to say she’d once had a massive crush on, Will was taking up half of the aisle with his antics. After tacking up Odin in the academy’s team colors, Inga brought him out in a mix of the gear they’d recently received and the tack she’d brought from home. She was unsurprised to be the first one in the arena their group had been assigned, which gave her time to stretch her horse’s legs and walk him around on foot before mounting. She carried out this maneuver easily with no one to share the arena with, and she soon got to work moving the large horse through a series of flatwork patterns. As she worked through these, the other riders began to join, warming their horses up as well. Once their group was called, they would be asked to move from the flat arena into the larger show jumping arena which the academy utilized for shows and larger practices. A full show jumping course was placed in this arena, complete with several new purchases the returning horses had never seen before. They would have thirty minutes in the arena with the trainer to jump around and discuss improvements, and then they would be sent back to the flat arena and the next group would come. Inga checked her watch after she’d successfully flatted Odin, feeling the young horse’s preparedness to go in and jump. While the fences were higher than they’d been last year, Inga knew that fear had no place if success was the priority. She slowed Odin to a walk, allowing him to cool out while Will and Jensen’s group finished their training session in the large arena. As she walked, she studied the riding in their group, which was another section at their level. While Inga knew that she would have to improve and work even harder to be successful at this new level, she felt up to the challenge, and generally prepared to defend herself in an arena that she knew would be difficult if Crew had anything to do with it.
|
|
|
|
![](showimage.php?loc=../uploads/avatars/292725_1605.jpg)
Darkseeker
|
Crew was roused by his friend as promised, and the group made their way out into the sunshine. It was still a bit chill, but nice enough that no one needed a jacket, and fingers wouldn't freeze while trying to mess with small buckles. The group of young men chattered and bantered as they headed back towards the dorms, the biggest topic of conversation the upcoming competition. Crew wanted to be excited, but the thought of having stubborn, hard-headed Inga, undeserving of a place on the Beans, also being there was dampening his spirits. He knew he needed to change into the proper uniform for riding, but he honestly had no idea where it was. His style of unpacking was tossing everything from his bags into the nearest drawer, and, once the dresser had filled up, in not-so-neat piles on the floor. Crew would never admit it, but he was vain about his looks, so the amount of clothes and accessories brought with him was almost more than a teenage girl would need. The group split at the doors of the dorms, the few girls continuing on to the female dorms, and the guys teeming in through their doors to get ready. Crew took his time getting ready, still feeling somewhat out of sorts. He looked less hungover now, which was good, but he was feeling worse and worse. Waves of nausea hit him at random times, and everything felt vaguely blurry and dreamlike. He hated how it felt, it made him feel like he'd taken some kind of psychedelic mushrooms, and gone to down the rabbit hole with Alice. He half expected to see talking flowers, thoughtful caterpillars, and a harried white rabbit while he made his way down to the barn. Crew rubbed his temples, knowing he'd barely made it there on time, which he knew people would be talking about. Normally, he showed up at least half an hour early, and had been making plans for how to improve the team. The Beans wouldn't talk, though. They respected their captain for the most part, and most of them knew about his severe depression, anxiety, and the migraines that seemed to come out of nowhere. However, once he saw the course prepared for the day, he perked up. He'd spent all summer devising tricky jump combinations to test the skills of his team, and had sent loads of plans to the directors to have set up for their practicing time. A kid hit him on the shoulder, and reminded him that he'd promised to ride their horse that day, and he paused for a moment, trying to remember who the hell this was. Addison? Ackerman? Avery? That was it. An annoying sophomore who'd decided that since he was no longer a freshman, he practically ran the school. Crew knew that Avery was a terrible jumper, but one of the geldings that he'd brought to the school with him was a handsome jumper, and had great potential. He'd at first hoped both horse and rider could join the team, but that dream had quickly been quashed. The delicate boy was much better at dressage, and Crew didn't want anything to do with the dancing horse pussies. Even so, he was not about to start his year off riding someone else's horse. He made his way out to the pasture, and his heart squeezed as Stetson, his pretty, high-stepping stallion headed towards him, knowing his schedule well, and all he could do was pat his neck. "I'm sorry, my darling," he whispered, running his fingers across his soft nose. "I can't take you." Instead, he passed by the stallion's pasture, down to where a herd of mares ran through a large stretch of a grassy field. He caught up to a proud looking mare, brushed to gleaming, with a saucy attitude. He slipped the halter over the horse's head with ease, and led her back up to the barns. Crew wanted to use his own tack badly, he took great pride in the nice leather saddles and smooth, new saddle pads. Even so, he wanted the mare to be as comfortable as possible, so he used the school's bridle and saddle pads, but to his dismay, since the mare hadn't been out in a while, he didn't have a jumping saddle for her. It was a moment of internal conflict for Crew: he wanted to make the mare comfortable, and he didn't want to use Stetson's soft, well-worn saddle on the other horse, but...he loved that saddle. He made a face, and quickly got his own, neatly saddling the horse, and mounted with ease. He took a few minutes just to become accustomed to the way the horse moved again, and quickly remembered how much he adored Gatsby, and her smooth, practiced canter. He headed out to the arena, and sighed. It was full of new hopefuls, he'd forgotten that try-outs for the Junior Varsity team was today. He'd have to ride hard, then come and sit with the JV captain, as a scout for any who might deserve a place on the Varsity team, which was yet to happen. Gatsby was impatient to be moving, and he used the edges of the busy arena to warm her up, then eased her out towards the jumping arena, his pride and joy. He'd spent the entirety of his junior year begging for a new arena for the Beans, he'd written persuasive essays, he'd sent letters to the dean, along with promises and pledges from men in high places of sponsorship, and huge donations. Finally, Saint Katt's had given in, and the Beans had gotten their dues. The arena was gorgeous, spacious, and had brand new jumps and things that even his own beloved Gatsby had never seen. He grinned, some of the stress melting away, ad he headed out into an open space in front of the arena, watching his team gather in front of him. Crew took a moment to acknowledge some things that had come to his attention about the team, restated the rules, and paused for a second, just drinking in this year's Beans. He finished clearing things up, answered some questions from the newbies, ignored his buddies irritating banter and teasing, and gestured to the arena. "We fought to get a new arena. Don't treat it like shit, or the Horse Dancers get it," he said, to the boos of the Beans. There was quite a rivalry between the dressage and jumping team, and the grudge had only deepened with the new jumping arena. Crew brushed his hair out of his face, and patted Gatsby's neck. "Let's get training. Upperclassmen first, underclassmen second. You all know the rules, don't fight me on them," he yelled, scowling as a sophomore slunk back away from the jumps.
|
|
|
|
![](../images/neutral.png)
Neutral
|
Inga | Third Year | 13:33 | M: Crew Inga hadn’t even remembered that the jumping team had been the one to petition for the new arena until the irritating voice of the blond ricocheted off the metal bleachers and the late summer air, bringing her from her natural state of peace and solitude back into the reality of co-existing with him. A pang of anger flashed within her as she recalled the events she’d tried so hard to forget. She’d done all of the community organizing to pitch a new dressage arena for her team, which had only come back into popularity since she’d arrived at the farm, and she’d been the one to pitch the idea to the school. Instead, when an anonymous rider went behind her back and used their influence to sway the idea toward something that benefitted the show jumpers, the staff and faculty forgot all about the initial idea and all the work she’d put into it. That rider was seeming less anonymous by the minute. As she waited for their actual, St. Katt’s appointed staff member to call her name to go in and jump, she rolled her eyes at Crew’s need to make everything about him and his lust for power. She was the only one of the three in their small group who had withheld any thoughts and opinions she had up until this point, but it grew too difficult to bite her tongue for the sake of peace. Someone had to stand up to him, and no one else seemed to be volunteering. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she began, looking him dead in the eye. “I didn’t realize the show jumping team captain title came with a delusion of grandeur. Did your imaginary whistle tell you it’s your turn to play coach already? Last I checked, no one has to listen to you talk until three.” Not long after this, Inga’s name was called by the coach in the arena, and she walked Odin out of the warmup arena on a loose rein, gathering him up as she walked him past a few of the more colorful and eye-grabbing materials such as neon boxes and massive standards that were built like columns with items hanging off of them. She flexed her feet in the stirrups, moving him from a very dressage-like free walk into a collected, powerful stride, allowing him to see everything while the coach told her a warm up pattern that consisted of two jumps and several flat patterns. One of her successful attempts at changing the university’s beliefs on things was to integrate more flatwork into the show jumping training sessions and into the general curriculum of non-dressage rides. While she’d initially done it for the good of the riders, she was now feeling smug about the fact that it likely also made Crew’s day a bit worse, seeing as he had no desire to affiliate with dressage or with anything that was not jumping. As the coach had requested, Inga began to pick up a smooth sitting trot that stood out from the other riders, many of which only practiced their flatwork as an obligation before the things they truly enjoyed. She cut across the diagonal and slowed to a halt when she reached the top of the arena, picking up a counter-canter easily as she moved Odin forward, performing a flawless flying change as she reached the end of the long side. She rode a powerful, forward canter toward a diagonal single that was placed dead in the center of a combination that boxed the jump in, making Odin feel trapped and causing her to lose a bit of momentum. They chipped the first jump but made it over, landing on the same lead and moving forward into an extended canter for the number of strides requested before bringing him back in, collecting him, and sitting back as she rode confidently up to the next jump, a quarterline single on the opposite end. She managed to get a perfect distance to this jump seeing as there was nothing distracting about the stone pillars and white poles, so she easily managed to make it over this one, halt again, and then walk. After receiving her critique from the coach on the warmup, Inga went back and completed the course, which went about as well. While she exceeded in performing the flat tasks, not every jump was perfect. And nothing less than perfect was good enough for where she needed to be in order to keep her reputation up on the team. Still, with the incorporation of flat tasks, she felt fairly confident that she would do better than Crew in terms of feedback and general performance, seeing as jumping well was only half of the equation. As she exited the arena, patting Odin and allowing him to free walk once more, she passed Crew, whose name had been called after hers. As she passed him, she spoke in a volume that only he could hear. “Try not to trip over your own ego in there,” she warned, following it up with, “I’ll see you at tryouts in an hour, co-captain.” Edited at June 8, 2024 11:38 AM by Iconium
|
|
|
|
![](showimage.php?loc=../uploads/avatars/292725_1605.jpg)
Darkseeker
|
A muscle in Crew's jaw tightened, and Gatsby shifted under him uneasily. It was tradition with the Beans to have a speech before every practice and every meet, just as a way of boosting morale, and bringing the team closer together as a whole. The rest of the team now had varying looks: from scowls darker than midnight, all directed at this new girl, to wary looks of distaste, and he relaxed slightly. He never should've doubted the loyalty of the team. They'd been with him from day one, and he'd been with them. It was like a big family, and he knew they weren't going to let the disrespect directed towards their beloved captain go unnoticed. He patted Gatsby's neck, trying to calm the upset horse without dismounting. To his relief, Inga was called first, and the team immediately shifted closer to him, rude words and angry faces were all that met his senses. As much as he disliked his new co-captain, he didn't like the way the Beans were talking about her. He had created a safe place within the team, a spot where one could express their feelings without judgment, but never mean words, and all the sentiment behind these were cruel, meant to tear down. With her out of the way, however, he was able to hurriedly explain the situation to the team, and the angry faces shifted to those of guilt. Crew knew full well that many of the Beans had been involved with the incident that had led to this, and they hadn't realized how much it would affect their team and their lives. In the end, they understood the basics. They were stuck with the Wicked Witch of the West until they seemed to have reinstated the unity within the school, so egging the girl's dorms would only ensure the full year with her. Crew managed to calm them down to a point, but most of the Beans still swore that she would never be their captain, that they would show her whatever respect they had too, but their loyalties remained to the original team. There was also some other irritations that went along with their new unexpected captain, which mostly came down to this: they always had one captain, and then their underclassmen representative, or occasionally a co-captain. This semester, at the very least, they wouldn't get that representation, as clubs were only allowed two leaders. Crew heard Inga wrapping up in the arena, and the herd of people and tense animals slowly dispersed so it didn't look like they'd carried on a meeting without her, and Crew heard his own name called. He was content to simply pass by her in silence, but as always, she made a sharp jab at not only his skills, but his personality. His eyes darkened, and he took a long pause to bite his tongue, and a similarly snide comment. He gently urged Gatsby into a trot, and the two made their way into the arena. He refused to do the groundwork, and although he heard the coach swear and sigh, he honestly didn't care. Neither he or Gatsby liked it, or were good at it. He shifted in the saddle, loosening his grip on the soft leather reins, furrowing his brow as he surveyed the course. It was one of his most common methods, once he had been able to map out all the jumps in his mind, it was easier for him to prepare and perform better. Gatsby flicked her ears, and he could feel her warm, tense body beneath him, shifting and preparing, just like her rider. The course was difficult, for sure, but Crew was an experience and easy-going rider. He clicked his tongue to the equine under him, and she picked up her pace to a smooth, almost loping canter. Each jump was met with the fierce determination from both horse and rider, and he managed to clear each jump without causing any to topple, or even touch them. However, some of his landings were less aesthetically pleasing, which the coach made a point to comment on, and Crew did his best to listen well, though he already knew they had been poor, and was pretty sure he knew how to fix them. The trainer did give a few good tips, and Crew grinned. "Thanks Coach," he called over his shoulder, letting Gatsby meander out, and send in one of the other boys. By the time Gatsby was cooled down and brushed off, it was almost time for tryouts, but Crew had been fighting a headache all day, so he let the mare back out into the field, patting her warm, damp neck as she passed, and headed back up to the barn. His vision swam, and he stumbled through the doorway of the barn, leaning heavily on on the doorframe. Crew sat down, his heart rate spiking, and his breathing fast and shallow. He was used to these panic attacks, unless they got really bad, and then he could spend days out of sorts. Thankfully, after a few methods his therapist had taught him before his father decided that therapy was for pussies, he got it back down to normal, and pulled himself together enough to head back to the smaller arena. Tryouts were about to start, and he perched himself on the mounting block, his fingers wrapped tightly around the edge of the wood, still trying to keep his emotions under control. The world seemed like it was spinning, and he was so, so tired, but he couldn't let the freshmen see him like that, so he bucked up, and studied the new students. It was a mix of freshman and sophomores, and none of them looked terribly promising. He winced as the first one to try out fell off her horse, and wondered if it could get worse. The girl limped out of the arena like a wounded puppy, and his jaw tightened even further. It was going to be a long afternoon.
|
|
|
|
![](../images/neutral.png)
Neutral
|
Inga | Third Year | 20:53 | M: Crew, Jensen, Will After the practice and the tryouts that followed, the hours passed quickly and soon Inga was back where she’d been the day prior, running another day of show jumping tryouts with Crew before rushing off to her own, which she actually had a say in. Unlike the show jumping tryouts, the dressage tryouts were something that she had total control over, which was only aided by the junior mentor she and the others on the team panel had decided to elect at the end of the last semester. Their junior mentor had an exemplary work ethic which was only outshined by the massive crush he seemed to have on Inga if his complacency was any indication. He’d agreed with every decision she made thus far, and seemed more interested in what her plans were for dinner that evening than in which riders she did or did not decide to welcome to the team. This was a stark contrast to her experience on the show jumping team, where she was met with glares and tense silence by everyone she dealt with, including Crew. Unfortunately for him, she had no issue with the silence, and only voiced her opinion when she felt he was operating out of a personal bias. Which, also unfortunately for him, was quite often. Wednesday morning and afternoon came and went with nice, sunny weather that included a breeze that continued to increase in intensity as time passed. A storm was expected in the evening, which Inga had not only known about but planned for. Now that tryouts had finally concluded, Inga had spent the afternoon with her co-leader discussing the final decisions for the team before they would present them at dinner, followed by the respective team celebrations that marked the establishment of the teams for the year. Unlike Crew, who she’d neither communicated with nor desired to discuss anything with beyond what was required, she’d had the forethought to reserve the grand hall for their celebration due to the weather. She and the co-leader, Malthe, had spent the better part of the afternoon preparing for a classy, formal event that would surely impress, while Inga was convinced that Crew and his show jumping squad would end up drunk and passed out on the lawn somewhere. Which, other than making the formal appearance with him at dinner, was not her responsibility, and even further so with the news that she wasn’t scheduled to manage either of the barns that evening. While the school uniforms were mandatory dress code for all meals at the academy, Inga had left Malthe to finish the final few tasks on their to-do list and gotten back to her dorm in time to do her hair and makeup in a way that exceeded what she typically did. While she normally wore no makeup and kept her hair straight, she took a few minutes to crimp her hair and add a touch of makeup, not enough to draw significant attention but enough that she drew attention in a way that she typically did not. Her roommate had not yet arrived to the academy from France due to a last minute change in plans, so Inga had the space all to herself. Arriving to the dinner, Inga said nothing to Crew prior to the announcement of the headmaster that the speeches would begin. Although she paid attention when the announcement was given, she spent the majority of dinner ignoring the incessant nattering of Malthe, who’d been seated beside her, which primarily consisted of pleasantries and nervous small talk that she didn’t care for. Her icy gaze wandered across the room to the table that Crew was seated at, an empty seat beside him which she knew was reserved for her. Once or twice his gaze wandered in her direction as well, although he was primarily distracted by the women throwing themselves at him and his own ill-fated attempts to be discreet in his interest in what was occurring at her table. By the time the show jumping team leaders were called, Inga quietly excused herself and joined Crew at the top of the platform, standing beside him and allowing him to perform the speech he’d prepared. Once they were seated, they once again moved wordlessly, although their strides were even, hasty, and irritatingly synchronized. It wasn’t long before she returned to the stage with Malthe, a true gentleman who put excessive effort into assisting her up the stairs, and the pair took turns offering their congratulations and reading off the names of the riders they would be adding to their teams. Before they knew it, the dinner was over, and they were excused to their parties as anticipated. Inga, as usual, was one of the few young women at the academy who prioritized efficiency and practicality over status and beauty, so despite the minimal effort she’d put into her appearance, she did not change out of her academy uniform like everyone else did before proceeding to the grand hall for their formal dinner. Malthe followed suit, although he left once he knew that Inga had everything covered, and returned not long after in a collared shirt with a few buttons undone, more than the blonde would have preferred. The party went off without a hitch for quite a while until the booming bass of party music could be heard getting closer and closer to the hall. At some point, it got too loud to hear Inga’s speech to the new and returning students, and her information session was brought to a close prematurely with the entrance of a fairly large group of students, all reeking of alcohol and whatever else had been distributed elsewhere. Horror washed over her ever-poised visage as she followed the path of destruction directly back to Crew, whose blond hair was even messier than it had been at the last party he’d partaken in, and who had somehow lost his shirt in the chaos of his function–if he’d even gone with one at all. After several unsuccessful efforts to separate the two parties and remove the unwanted guests before they destroyed any more of her perfect outing, Inga’s betrayed gaze followed Crew as he slipped through the door they’d come in, leaving Malthe to attempt what she had failed to accomplish. Taking off after him in heated strides, Inga began to call after him in a tone that was somehow controlled yet filled with emotion. “What the hell, Crew? I understand being upset at the situation we’re in, but that doesn’t give you the right to ruin my event just because it’s better than yours. Is that it? Do you feel threatened by me? Are you jealous because all you know how to do is create chaos around you that not even you know how to control?” Now close enough to him to be within grabbing distance, and still not getting the response she felt she deserved, nor the apology she knew she wouldn’t get, she followed up with a meek, “answer me,” and reached out to shove him, only met by a strong grip across both of her wrists–now held in the firm grasp of his palms–and a closeness to him that she had not desired, nor expected. It was dark in the grass where they’d ended up, but a distant source of light from an adjacent sidewalk lit up the bright hue of his eyes. There was an intensity about them as they were glued to hers, their bodies connected not only by touch but by the heavy breathing shared in the limited space between them, and yet a profound emotion she could not quite describe as sadness nor emptiness was the feature that captivated her the most. There was something about him that everyone else seemed oblivious to, something that made her feel like the only person around him with eyes to see the real him. Paralyzed not only by the way he’d pinned her in place but by the confusing tension between them, Inga stood inches apart from him in a stunned silence for several seconds. After a brief moment, her eyes flickered down to his lips briefly, wondering what exactly he was thinking in that bewildering and complex mind of his before breaking her hands away with more force than she needed, surprised by the way he’d been so stunned that he’d naturally relaxed his hands at the slightest pressure. Taking one step closer to him to close the gap between them again, she studied his expression with an unreadable stoicism in her own. Easily, and in an unforgiving tone, she studied his eyes for one more moment before saying, “it’s tragic that no one else sees how empty you really are,” immediately turning on her heel and taking off across the lawn once more to get both of their parties under control without him. Although she had no intention of staying at either party, she had the strength to do what leaders do: lead by example, something she wasn’t sure he’d ever done in the extensive history of his leadership at this academy. Despite this, as she walked, she couldn’t help but rub her wrists, feeling the ghost of his touch and the quiet intensity of the strength that had pulled her in moments prior.
|
|
|