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Schedule + Plot Plans Florida Int'l Three Day Event - Aug 13-17 - Ocala, FL, USA Mia, Cam, Cole, and Zoe Pine Top International - Aug 28-31 - Cartersville, GA, USA Mia, Atley, Lucas, Zoe Carolina International - Sep 4-7 - Tryon, NC, USA Cam, Lena, Fiona, Cole Badminton Invitational - Sep 25-28 - Badminton, ENG, UK CHIO Aachen - Oct 10-13 - Aachen, NRW, DEU Overview of Facilities Located in Evermere, Florida, Skyline Ridge International Training Center is a private facility owned and funded by Valerius Equinox International (VEI) with the sole intention of housing their elite team of riders. It is about three hours from Atlanta, Georgia, and three hours from the coast, giving riders plenty of travel and networking opportunities outside of competition. VEI is a luxury performance brand specializing in elite equestrian equipment, global horse transport, and athletic training wear. Known by their striking team colors of teal, bright red, and gold, the VEI team is known for housing the most elite eventers on the Global Eventing Series (GES) circuit. The facility is secured by high-security gates, and a private airstrip is located on an adjacent property roughly fifteen minutes away by car. The adjacent property contains all of the business and management offices within a two-story complex that includes coaching staff, a media center, residential management, sports psychologists, nutritionists, trainers, and VEI associates managing the partnerships with the riders. Riders are typically called in twice a week or more to manage their appointments there regarding contracts, individual coaching check-ins, and voicing complaints or requests regarding the facilities. A massive residential building sits at the front of the property of the Ridge itself, two wings of four rooms each with a central lounge, media room, and shared kitchen in the center. The upstairs has a compact performance gym, a movement studio, and a recovery zone with a sauna, cold tubs, and a physical therapy room for injured riders working on recovery. The third floor has a swimming pool, a rooftop patio, and a small bar that doesn't get much use unless one of the athletes feels the need to prove their bartending skills. On one side of the residential building sits the communal dining space, on-site kitchen and pantry, and nutrition lab, while the staff quarters is parallel to this building, hosting the on-call room for the vet and farrier, the on-site offices for the various coaching staff, and some group rooms designed for training and collaboration outside of the tack. A guest house for visitors sits far on the west end of the property, not often used unless family or prospective riders are visiting. Protected by nature and fencing on all sides, the actual facilities sit far back on the property, shrouded in forest and spanish moss. There is a sixteen-stall barn with a tack room, a feed room, a hay loft, and a riders lounge. There is a small bedroom/bathroom tucked into the upstairs for on-site staff and riders who want to be closer to their horses during emergencies. There is an indoor dressage arena, an outdoor jumping arena, a conditioning track, a cross country schooling track with three levels, and a conditioning field as well as various trails. There are also recovery and hydrotherapy facilities for the horses as well as an additional 8-stall barn that is primarily utilized for injury, but may also house backup horses in the case of an emergency. There are both small, private turnout and larger group turnout options depending on the temperament of the horse and the rider's preference. Competition Rules Teams compete all over the world, required to participate in 25 competitions per season. Teams get two weeks off each quarter with a total of two months off out of the year, with the Championship Final and other EOY competitions occurring in mid-to-late July. Teams may compete back-to-back weekends if the competitions (1) do not require international travel and (2) do not feature the same horses in back-to-back competitions. Otherwise, it is expected that riders take two weeks in between competitions. Teams are composed of 6-8 riders, but only four riders may be entered into each competition. Each rider may only have two horses registered and active at one time, but a third may be added if a horse goes on LTIR for a period spanning six or more weeks. Scores are calculated based on standings at the end of the event, with additional benefits for performance-related achievements such as clear rounds and dressage scores above 75%. For each team, the worst score is dropped, and the top three scores are added to the team total for the year. Placements above 25 add points to a team's total, while placements of 26 and below take away points and are detrimental to a team's final score. Teams must travel with two stand-in riders, and will not be allowed to compete if only three riders are entered into the competition. The top four teams at the end of the year compete in the Championship Final, while the top two riders from each team are sent to the Rider of the Year competition. Each rider on a team's roster must compete a minimum of five times per year, though there is no limit set on horses. Team Roster Atley Farris, 23, TBA, USA Cameron Wright, 28, Wellington, NZL Cole Harding, 20, Toronto, CAN Fiona McAllister, 36, Galway, IRL Lena Schneider, 34, Munich, DEU Lucas Moreau, 33, Bordeau, FRA Mia Ryland, 25, Clearwater Beach, USA Zoe Gallagher, 19, Cambridge, ENG |
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Name Atley Wilder Farris Name Meaning Meadow Gender Male Sexuality* Bi Age* 23 Appearance Atley is a walking contradiction. A sweet-faced, angel-eyed cowboy with trouble written in the way his mouth quirks up into an easy, lopsided smile. His messy, dirty blonde mullet spills around his ears in artful disarray, sun-streaked strands catching the light like threads of gold. It’s the kind of hair that looks like it’s never known a brush, and yet, somehow, it fits: a wild halo for a boy who seems born to ride through into the painted sunset. But it’s his eyes that do the most damage—big, brilliant blue, like cloudless summer skies, framed by thick lashes that give him a wide-eyed, almost innocent look. That sweetness is a trick, though, because those eyes know exactly how to spark with mischief, how to soften with charm, how to pierce with a rare, unguarded sincerity. Atley’s face is all soft lines and boyish warmth, his cheeks brushed with the faintest dusting of sun-given freckles. His jaw is strong, but the smile he wears most often makes him seem younger, sweeter, the kind of boy who might shyly tip his hat in greeting, until you see the silver glint of his jewelry, the flash of a skull ring on his finger, the weathered chain at his throat. He’s a vision in his favorite worn blue jeans, the denim slung low on his hips, and a vintage band tee clinging to his lean, sun-kissed frame. His silver jewelry glints in the sunlight, always silver, a mix of delicate chains, a silver cross, and chunky rings that speak to a hint of rebellion beneath the angel-faced surface. Boots scuffed by dirt and dust complete the look, making him a picture-perfect cowboy who seems plucked from a dream. However, he knows how to lock in for a competition. His curls are tamed back, and he'll wear the proper riding attire, no cowboy hat in sight. It's odd, for those who know him, to see the Southern boy they know changed into a proper young man. Personality Atley is all soft smiles and angelic blue eyes masking a streak of pure, trouble-making mischief. He’s got a lazy, honeyed drawl that drips with charm, each word slipping out slow enough to sound sweet, until you catch the sarcasm laced through his teasing.
Atley is the kind of boy who will flash you a wide, sunshine-bright grin right after landing you in the middle of chaos he swears he didn’t start. He’s a born troublemaker with a talent for slipping out of scrapes with nothing more than a laugh and a wink, always one step ahead of the mess he makes. There’s a daring, reckless streak in him, a love for pushing buttons just to see what happens. But there’s also a warmth beneath it all: an almost frustrating sweetness that makes it hard to stay mad at him.
He’s a smooth-talker with a silver tongue, quick to offer a teasing quip or a charming one-liner, and even quicker to deflect when things get too serious. Despite his pretty, angel-faced looks, there’s a wild edge to him, a boy who flashes grins like they’re currency and never quite lets you know what’s going on behind those deceptively sweet blue eyes.
But even though he’s a bit of a menace, Atley isn’t usually cruel. His teasing is playful, his troublemaking almost a dare for someone to keep up with him. Beneath the wild charm, there’s a boy who’s always chasing a thrill, always looking for the next adventure, never quite ready to be tied down. Voice & Accent* Twanging like a bowstring Strengths Physically buff ig Add more here Weaknesses Flirty Oblivious Affiliations TBA Backstory Atley was born and raised in the heart of ranching country: the rolling plains of Montana, where the sky stretched wider than the horizon and the air was always tinged with the scent of hay and sunbaked earth. As a little boy, his dreams were like those of any other little boy, slapshots and home runs under the glow of floodlights. But early on, he learned that dreams didn’t put food on the table, and nothing mattered more than keeping the family farm running. Riding was second nature to Atley. He was practically born in the saddle. With both his parents working on the ranch, that was just they way it went, and before he could properly tie his boots, he was galloping across the fields, wind in his hair, grinning like a devil. There was something almost feral in the way he connected with the horses: a soul-deep understanding that made him look like he belonged close to them. It didn’t take long for his parents to notice that his knack for riding wasn’t just talent; it was instinct. They put together what they could to support him, seeing potential in the way he moved like he was part of the animal under him. Atley started off riding western, just like everyone else he knew: barrel racing, roping, the sort of rough-and-tumble competitions that made him feel alive. His winnings came in steadily, and although he didn’t fully grasp it at the time, those prize checks were the difference between just scraping by and keeping the ranch running smoothly. As his reputation spread, so did the pressure to expand his skill set. His coaches knew talent when they saw it, and they started pushing him to branch out. They coaxed and cajoled, all but dragged him into trying English riding. At first, he hated the tight, formal feel of it. The stiff attire, the measured movements. It felt like trying to fit a wild tornado into a perfectly pressed suit. But money talked, and English riding meant bigger competitions and fatter paychecks. Despite his reluctance, Atley did what he always did—he put his head down, worked hard, and made it look easy. Eventing wasn’t the same wild rush as barrel racing, but he learned to appreciate the challenge of it, the precision, the technical mastery. Still, it never quite made his heart race the way tearing through a barrel pattern did. Other Main Horse: FF Charmer's Captain My Captain |
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BASICS
Full Name: Mia Anastasia Elizaveta Ryland
Nicknames / Aliases: None
Age: 27
Birthday: June 26th
Gender: Female
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Occupation: PHYSICALITY
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7w8 478 ENFJ-A
Attachment Style: Disorganized--it's complicated.
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Perception of Others: BACKSTORY & HISTORY
OTHER
Moodboard: [in progress]
Color Palette: hot pink, bright purple, brown |
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Mia Ryland | Aug 7 | Barn Mia walked Paisley in from the cross country field a little after seven, bypassing the staff and the other riders that were milling about as she worked to get the smaller mare rinsed, resembling some semblance of cleanliness, and back in her stall by a reasonable hour. Mia did not favor having the first training slot of the day, for she wasn’t much of a morning person at all. Unfortunately, with the heat and with her other expectations as the leader of the team, she’d found herself taking the first training slot of the day more often than not lately, and it was exhausting her. Still, she was barely–just barely–finding a way to cram everything in with some degree of poise. After putting her backup mount away for the day, Mia returned to her room at the very far end of the left wing, showering and dressing in a new pair of green breeches and a cream-colored shirt. She threw on a pair of tennis shoes and a jungle hat, listening to a motivational podcast as she drank black coffee and protein oats in the shared kitchen, waiting for some of the other riders to start filing out of their rooms and make their way to the group room in the staff building. They were leaving for Ocala in three days, so most of the review was centered around their performance there last year, the terrain, things they could improve, and otherwise specifically-tailored review as opposed to a general strategy conversation. Usually they took turns speaking or assigned one specific rider to lead the review, but seeing as it was the first competition of the new season, Mia had taken the initiative to lead their morning meeting herself. VEI had unexpectedly finished in fifth place last year after Cam had spent the majority of the year in a sling and Andrei suffered a fall in early July that caused Mia to have to go to war for their team with three riders who lacked the starpower that the injured riders had. The fourth superstar that had formerly been on their team, Juliet, caused late-spring drama when she quit the team following some problems she created for the team. Now Mia was expected to lead a team she barely knew, primarily with riders either before or after their prime. And then there was Atley. Although she had only had limited interactions with Atley Farris other than a petty media war they’d prolonged last summer, Mia was already clear that she didn’t like him very much. Maybe he was talented, but it didn’t seem fair to her that some people worked their whole lives to get to this level in this sport and he could just waltz in on a whim and be picked up by two of the best teams in the GES. It was all flash and media narratives and no grit or focus on the team. She’d never admit it, but she watched him plenty last year after their media scrum, and he seemed to Mia to be the kind of rider that gave up when things got too hard. She gave him seven months on this team, tops, before he was crying to his manager asking to go somewhere else. She didn’t do business like that, she didn’t even have a manager. She was supposed to, but she really had no need–not when she had a lengthy contract, a promise from management to keep her as long as she was willing to stay, and a devotion to a team she’d been competing for almost her entire professional career. The strategy meeting was long and awkward considering that the majority of riders sitting in the room had either not been on this team or had not competed in Ocala in March when they’d last traveled there. Cam had been injured but he’d gone along due to the short distance, not even as a backup but to support his friends. It had been Mia, Andrei, Juliet, and Cole, who’d been disqualified on the cross country in his first start in the GES. Andrei was relieved of his duties as co-captain given that he was supposedly never going to ride again, Juliet quit, and Cole could do little more than make self-deprecating jokes at his own expense regarding his performance, so it was primarily Mia and Cam ricocheting ideas off each other while the older riders sat quietly, picking at their fingernails and making the occasional one-word comment. Mia couldn’t help but feel her eyes gravitate toward the empty chair that would soon be Atley’s, feeling grateful that she hadn’t had to manage this group and his arrival at the same time. Apparently she’d thought this too soon, because she spotted one of their off-property cars pulling in when the group began making their way across the front of the grounds from the staff building to the barn, preparing to get their starting mounts out for group practice. Riders were expected to ride at least once on their own every day, but they were also expected to attend the daily group practice, whatever that looked like. Because there had been empty stalls in the barn for so long, Mia had been allowed to keep her third horse here over the summer, and that had helped with keeping her busy and giving her more time to improve herself in the tack. Usually she hacked Wrenn and rotated Paisley and Houston for group training and individual training, but she’d decided to switch things up today and get the dressage coach’s professional opinion on Wrenn during her evening training. That was what had gotten her up so early in the morning to get Paisley done, not to mention the weather was preferable in the morning and they were expecting some thunderstorms in the afternoon. Mia had kept to herself during the tacking up period, grooming her massive black gelding and attempting to get his white legs clean despite the fact that they would only get dirty again during the technical jumping training. She was only distracted once or twice by Zoe asking her where things were, trying not to feel the pang of resentment that twitched in her when she thought of how Zoe was here in Andrei’s place. The girl was nice enough, but Mia, Andrei, Cam, and Juliet had been a team. They’d been unstoppable. They knew how to win in a way that this team didn’t seem to, and no amount of rookies or flashy cowboys were going to fix things. They were already screwed, and the season hadn’t started yet. As Mia went out to the arena to mount Houston, she vaguely wondered if Atley would be joining them for this practice. She knew he’d arrived beyond a shadow of a doubt when the car had pulled up from their other property, and it also explained why their head coach had cancelled on Mia for the strategy meeting that morning. She’d been looking at his horses for almost two weeks with his name on the nameplate where Juliet’s name once was, willing herself not to look at those two stalls like a curse. Everyone involved had made mistakes, herself included. Now she just needed to put the past behind her, and hope the future wasn’t as grim as it appeared. |
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Atley Farris Atley was homesick. Very homesick. He'd promised himself that when he got on the plane this morning, he wouldn't cry. And he hadn’t—not when his whole family took time away from the ranch to drive him to the airport, even though he’d told them they didn’t need to. Not when his dad tried so hard to keep his voice steady, cheeks twitching with the effort of holding back tears. Not even when he had to walk through security all alone, his boots heavy against the polished airport floor. He’d waited until the plane took off. Then he’d just closed his eyes and tried to shut out the world. Now, sitting in the back of a cramped car preparing to meet a group of teammates who would probably barely tolerate him, Atley was fighting that same urge again, along with the urge to throw up. His hands tightened around the worn strap of his duffel bag, fingers pressing into the faded leather, his jaw tense. Everything felt wrong. He was somewhere halfway across the country, surrounded by people who didn’t seem to want him here. A fresh start, they’d called it. A better opportunity. He wasn’t sure who they thought they were kidding. The only thing that felt like even a sliver of home was the fact that his horses were here. His usual show horse, Cap, had been flown in almost two weeks ago now, and while he had nothing against the tall, sleek bay, Atley was way more excited to see his other boy. Blackjack. Jacky had been his for almost four years. He wasn’t a prize-winning, meticulously bred show horse. In fact, Atley hadn’t expected much when he first rode the gelding, but somehow, Jacky had just clicked. Not too stubborn, not too calm, just the perfect blend of stubborn and spirited. And when Atley’s coaches started pushing him into English riding, Jacky was his one comfort, his one tie back to the wild, open plains he'd been raised on. So when they told him that the second stall was supposed to be for a backup eventing horse in case something happened to Cap, Atley had dug in his heels. Jacky was coming with him, no questions. He’d lost enough already. The car pulled up to the sleek, unfamiliar building, and Atley’s stomach twisted. He hugged his bags to his chest, a last-ditch comfort, before mumbling a thank you and slipping out. Inside, the building felt like a maze—too clean, too polished, too cold. He got lost twice, his cheeks burning with embarrassment each time he had to backtrack, wanting to just curl up in the nearest corner. When he finally found his assigned room, he wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or more miserable. It was clean, sure. Neat. Perfectly organized. But also painfully plain: blank walls, the faint smell of industrial cleaner. Someone else’s room, freshly cleared out for him. Atley dropped his bags by the bed and sat down, curling into himself for a moment. It was going to be awful here. He just knew it. The other riders didn’t like him. They didn’t understand where he came from, didn’t get that this wasn’t some rich kid’s hobby to him. It was his family’s lifeline. Would they even try to get to know him? He forced himself to unpack, hoping half-desperately that his phone would ring and his family would be on the other end, telling him to come home. But the phone stayed silent. After what felt like ages, with his clothes hung up and a few familiar pictures tacked to the wall, Atley stared down at his dusty boots. What now? Horses. That was always the answer. If nothing else, he needed to make sure Cap and Jacky had settled in okay. The walk to the barn was longer than he expected, the unfamiliar paths stretching out like a labyrinth. But when he finally reached the pastures, his eyes caught on Cap immediately—a tall, dark bay sectioned off from the others, ears flicking in irritation. Frowning, Atley approached the fence, the halter slung over his shoulder. He knew this setup. New arrivals often got penned separately until they settled. But Cap and Jacky were good horses. They didn’t need this, plus they'd been here for a while now. After a moment’s hesitation, he found the gate, slipped through, and made his way to Jacky. The gelding’s ears pricked, and before he could help himself, Atley buried his face in Jacky’s thick mane, his fingers tangling in the familiar, coarse hair. "It’s gonna be okay," he whispered, trying to believe it. "I’ve got you, right?" He didn’t want to think about the boys from his old team, the ones who understood him, who’d laughed with him, teased him, helped him achieve better. The ones who'd also mostly been raised in the West, and still wanted their saddles with a horn and a heavy build so they could drive cattle. Here, he was the outsider. An interloper in a world that felt too polished and too perfect. He knew he should tack up Cap for practice, but just the thought of it made his stomach twist. He missed Coach Lloyd—her sharp voice, her no-nonsense attitude. She’d have smacked the back of his head and told him to quit feeling sorry for himself. He needed that. But she wasn’t here. So he squared his shoulders, slipped the halter around Cap’s head, and led the horse out. He’d be a good teammate. He’d show up on time. He’d make this work, even if it killed him. |
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Mia Ryland | Aug 7 | Outdoor Arena Mia walked Houston out and mounted, unsurprised to find that the two rookies had beat her out to the arena and were already mounted. Zoe and Cole had the most to prove, and it wasn’t abnormal to find them working harder than the rest of the team in all the ways that counted. They were still excited to be there, they still wanted to show their potential in a way that the older veterans didn’t. Lena, Lucas, and Fiona were in the twilight of their careers, still perfectly competent and able to compete, but less ambitious–less driven to succeed. They didn’t mind sitting back and competing every now and again, while Zoe and Cam would do anything for an opportunity to show their skills. Mia almost envied their enthusiasm, although it wasn’t like she didn’t have something to prove as well. She was the team’s leader, it was expected of her to perform and achieve everything that no one else could. That burden never got any lighter. Lena was the next out, which wasn’t extremely surprising. She could only be bothered to care if Kira was holding the practice. Kira Mendell was their show jumping specialist coach, and although Lena didn’t like show jumping very much, she loved Kira. They were close in age and both competed for Germany at several Olympics, and Kira was something of a mentor for her. They both had the same no-nonsense attitude and attention to detail, and Kira usually let Lena off early or allowed her to skip things she didn’t want to do, much to Mia’s annoyance. The other coaches also had their favorites: Reagan and Cam were both from New Zealand and were more like brothers than co-workers, despite his specialization in dressage, Santi and Lucas seemed to get along swimmingly, and their head coach, Dr. Emerson Cade, was not one to play favorites, but he’d developed a close relationship with Mia over the years. They all had their quirks, but it irked Mia to think that Lena was getting off easy when she should have been training harder. Show jumping was her worst discipline and everyone wondered why. After Lena came Lucas, then Atley, then Fiona and Cam. Mia walked Houston past Atley at one point and murmured a short greeting before turning and trotting across the center to give them space, unwilling to give an excessive welcome when it was time to work. All of the riders did their flatwork for about fifteen minutes, integrating poles and cavalettis into their independent work before coming together in the center for instruction. Mia pulled Houston next to Kincade, Cole’s gelding, allowing her feet to drop out of the stirrups as she listened to Lena’s blunt, direct instructions. They each took turns doing a pattern of gymnastics for fifteen minutes, then twenty minutes of precision lines and related distances, then a course ride-through at competition height. They sent Zoe out first, knowing how her nerves were when she had to go at a time she did not choose herself, the team grouped loosely in the corner of the arena, Kira stalking the area with her clipboard in hand. “Don’t look at the jumps like they insulted your family, Zo. You’ve got this,” Cole said, hitting her knee gently with his riding crop. Mia and Cam looked at each other knowingly, Mia coming to find Cam’s gaze which was already on her. They’d placed bets on how long it would be until Zoe and Cole had some sort of relationship, based on the way the two kids had been clearly fawning over each other during the first few weeks of this season, since Zoe had arrived from England. “Just commit to your rhythm,” Mia advised, “everything else is there. Cole’s right, you’ve got it.” “Her hands are too high,” Lucas chided bluntly, earning a noise of approval from Lena. “She’s thinking, that’s the bigger problem,” Lena replied, allowing the pair of them to then move into a power struggle in the back which was primarily done with few words and subtle icy glances. By the time she came back, they were already sending Cole out, and the pair shared a sweet smile as the Canadian moved his gelding out and the Brit moved hers in. Fiona and Kira were both giving Zoe attention, so Mia and Cam focused on Cole’s round. “Who wants to bet me he goes off course? He gets lost like it’s a personality trait,” Cam said dryly, reins at the buckle, clearly grinning and amused. “He shouldn’t,” Lucas replied gruffly, “it’s not that hard.” “He compensates with charm. Unfortunately, the poles don’t care,” Lena added. “There goes his outside rein, again.” “Tough crowd,” Cam said, trying to make light of the way that Lucas and Lena were a constant source of negativity and correction to this team. Meanwhile, Mia was seeming to be coaching him herself, muttering direction to him that was quiet enough to stay in her bubble. Before they could pick someone to go next, Lucas was volunteering, arrogantly striding his black stallion, Jagger, toward the arena as Cole came in, having nearly gone off course, as predicted. Turning to look behind him, Cole watched Lucas smoothly move through the first combination, muttering, “he’s so chill it makes me uncomfortable.” Fiona replied in a deadpan, “his horse looks like it’s doing taxes mid-course,” rolling her eyes. “Watch how he preps for the corner,” Mia added, watching closely as he came to the last set of jumps. “That’s what I mean when I say set your jump.” Fiona was next and she took an alternative route to the first jump, one that the other riders had either seen and ignored or missed completely. Her mare had her neck up, eyeing everything like she was prepared to surge forward at any moment. There was a reason why this partnership was their cross country anchor, the same way that Lucas was for show jumping and Lena was for dressage. If they felt they needed a boost in any of those areas, they typically had those riders compete, while Cam and Mia rode in almost every competition, and the rookies got put in every now and again to build experience. They weren’t exactly sure where Atley would fit in yet, although he was contracted to be another core piece, along with the two superstars. Mia was the most consistent rider in the GES and held the longest active streak without having her score dropped, while Cam was wildly inconsistent, but his highs were higher than just about anyone else’s in the league. They were developing Zoe and Cole to be the other four main riders on this team, but Atley and the three veterans were good fill-ins until they became confident enough to reach their potential. “I honestly don’t think she remembers the course, I think she’s just guessing,” said Cam, amusedly. “She said she did,” Zoe offered, seemingly becoming anxious at the prospect. “She didn’t,” Mia agreed with Cam, “but she knows what she’s doing.” In fact, Mia was right–somehow, some way, Fiona got to all of the jumps, putting up a slower time than Lucas and Cole, but an effortlessly clear round. Mia and Cam bickered for a moment about who would be next, before Mia agreed to go, not wanting to scare anyone by putting Fiona and Cam’s rounds back to back. She executed her round with a surgical precision that few could match, putting up a clear round and nearly nailing the optimal time, going just one second over. “It’s like watching a bomb technician at work,” Cam teased, glancing to the side to take in Atley’s unreadable expression. “She’s so calm,” Zoe noted. “That’s what makes her dangerous,” Fiona agreed. “Every line’s perfect. Again.” Lucas’ tone was the equivalent of an eye-roll. “Don’t mess up, Cap, we placed bets on you,” Cam teased as she came back in, smiling teasingly. She returned the smile. “I hope you lost.” The next few rounds went smoothly, Cam’s round so far under time that everyone was pale by the end, and Atley’s round a calm, easy demonstration of competence. No one really spoke after his round, no one knew what to say or what to do around the new rider. Not long after, Kira gave individualized feedback to each of the eight riders, and she released them all to hand over their horses to the staff and get out of the heat. Lucas, Zoe, Cole, and Lena handed off their horses for the staff to hose and care for, while Fiona brought her horses around for the vet. Cam rinsed his mare on his own because she could be too touchy on the ground for anyone else to manage, then retreated to the residential area to shower before heading to the off-site location for a meeting. That left Mia and Atley, rinsing their horses in adjacent wash stalls, exchanging glances every now and again as they cared for their geldings. Mia was carefully washing all of the white areas of her chromey bay gelding with the whitening shampoo, so she was surprised that anyone else was still there when she was finished. “You settling in okay,” Mia asked, her back turned to Atley in a tack room that was previously filled with silence. “If you need anything, I’m sure they gave you my number in your orientation meeting. I’m happy to help with anything that comes up in the transition process.” |
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Atley had taken his time tacking up Cap, dragging out each step as if prolonging the inevitable might somehow ease his nerves. Anything to delay the awkwardness of meeting his new teammates. He knew it wasn’t the best approach, especially since he was likely here to stay for a while, but social interaction had never come naturally. It was easier to let someone else initiate the conversation than to risk coming off as overeager or, worse, irritating. Cap wasn’t making things easier. The dark bay gelding was restless, shifting his weight in the cross ties and reacting to unseen shadows with white-ringed eyes. The horse’s unease pushed into Atley’s own, fraying his composure. He carefully laid the white saddle pad across Cap’s back, smoothing it with practiced hands, muttering under his breath as if the words could ground them both. "Easy now. We’ve got this, bud. It’s going to be fine." He meant it. Mostly. Atley was just relieved he hadn’t been the first or last to arrive. Being the first screamed over-eager, and no one liked a try-hard. Last implied a lack of interest, and he couldn’t afford to look apathetic. He already felt like the outsider, walking a tightrope between standing out and blending in. Striking the perfect balance of unobtrusive was exhausting. It was safer to be overlooked than to risk being disliked. If there was one thing Atley excelled at, it was watching. Not casual people-watching, but focused, deliberate attention. He tried to notice everything: the way riders carried themselves, how they maneuvered through the course, and the subtle tones of conversation between teammates. It didn’t take long to figure out who the favorites were. The rookies were likable, full of infectious enthusiasm and easy camaraderie. Everyone seemed charmed by the budding relationship between Cole and Zoe. Lena, on the other hand, struck Atley as dismissive and disinterested; someone he instinctively knew he would not get along with. The rider who went just before him barely registered; Atley was too preoccupied with his own nerves, clammy hands, and an overwhelming sense of homesickness. Fortunately, Cap delivered. The gelding handled the course smoothly, clearing each jump with grace and maintaining an even pace. Their run was clean, timely, and free of glaring errors. For the first time all day, Atley felt a flicker of relief. The remainder of practice passed in a blur. Atley threw himself into each task, determined to appear competent while quietly fending off a rising wave of anxiety. By the end of the session, his shoulders ached from the tension he had carried throughout. He led Cap back to the barn, deciding to reward the gelding with a proper wash. Cap had performed admirably and deserved more than a quick rinse. As they walked, Atley scratched behind the horse’s ears and murmured soft praise before guiding him into a wash stall. A staff member offered to assist, but Atley declined politely. It wasn’t about pride, he simply wasn’t used to that kind of help. The team in Montana had never had something like that, and it made him uneasy to leave Cap to someone else. This part, at least, was familiar. He grabbed the hose and began rinsing the dust from Cap’s legs, speaking in low tones of gratitude. As much as he grumbled about transitioning to English riding and longed for the freedom of galloping Jacky across the plains, Atley knew Cap was a remarkable horse. Steady, intelligent, a little high-strung, but reliable to the core. He worked with deliberate care, ensuring each leg was properly cooled and clean. When he finally looked up, most of the team had already dispersed to the next part of their day. Only one person remained. Mia. She hadn’t left yet. Atley, soaked to the knees and disheveled, hesitated for a moment. He considered initiating a conversation but was spared the effort when Mia spoke first. "Settling in okay?" she asked. He blinked, caught off guard. Then nodded thoughtfully. "Not bad," he replied. "The facility’s a little nicer than home." He winced almost immediately. Home. "I mean...than where I came from. Montana. Ranching country." A brief pause, then he added, more cautiously, "Hey, so... when they told me I needed to bring a second horse for Cap, like a backup, but I didn’t. I brought BlackJack. He’s not really a show horse. He’s mine, for ranching. Do I actually need a backup, seriously? Because if so, I might need to start talking to someone about getting my usual backup flown out. And Jacky sent home?" He waded through the rest of the conversation as best he could, feeling bedraggled and out of place, and finally nodded, trudging back to the main building. He messed with the door for a minute, and reached into his pocket for his key. A frown flashed across his face. First day there, and he was already locked out of his room. He made a noise of distress, and dug through his other pockets. For not the first time, he was grateful for his sister, when he found a bobby pin tucked in his back pocket. He fitted it into the lock, and started messing with the handle. If this didn't work, he was screwed. How would he tell his brand new team that he was locked out? |
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Neutral
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Mia Ryland | Aug 7 | Barn “Not bad, the facility’s a little nicer than home. I mean, than where I came from. Montana. Ranching country.” She smiled smugly, knowingly, but did not have an opportunity to reply before his demeanor shifted and he began asking another series of questions. "Hey, so... when they told me I needed to bring a second horse for Cap, like a backup, but I didn’t. I brought BlackJack. He’s not really a show horse. He’s mine, for ranching. Do I actually need a backup, seriously? Because if so, I might need to start talking to someone about getting my usual backup flown out. And Jacky sent home?" Mia paused, studying the bright blue of his eyes in the absence of having an alternative to focus on. She considered how to reply, leaving a silence between them for several seconds, before replying. He was younger than her, but still an adult. He could make adult decisions, and receive adult consequences for them just like every other rider on their team. “I mean, we can’t make you do anything. You’ve ridden in this league before, so you know you can’t ride any horses other than those you register. If the horse you brought gets injured at an inconvenient time, you risk getting replaced or letting the team down. They obviously didn’t bring you here as a backup, so the risk is yours to take.” She smoothed her breeches with her palms, exhaling briefly and then giving him a curt smile. “I’ve got things to tend to, but the vet and the farrier are here if you need anything. Tomorrow we’re packing and prepping to leave the following morning, so let me know if you need anything in the meantime. I’m guessing you won’t be competing this weekend since you’ve just gotten here, but the coaches will send out a memo around two this afternoon letting us know who’s traveling. Since it’s a local competition, the riders who aren’t competing are usually invited to come along too, so you’re welcome to join. But, either way, we usually get together when the memo comes out to discuss things. It might be good for you to see.” Excusing herself further, Mia finished organizing her space, then headed to the nutrition center for lunch. She ended up eating with Zoe and Cole, who had both finished what they needed to do for the morning and had ended up wanting to have lunch around the same time as her. They discussed strategy and nerves, and poked fun at Cole for his performance at this particular competition the year prior. Soon it was roughly an hour from when the memo was typically distributed, so Mia left the rookies to themselves and went back to her room, changing her clothing and heading to the gym for a brief workout and shower. In the meantime, Cam had finished his appointments with the vet and farrier, and had gotten his horses settled before making his way to the cafeteria to pick up lunch to go and head back to his room. No one else seemed to be on the same schedule as him today, and he was better off having some time to himself before the strategy meeting and the afternoon meetings he had at the alternate location. He had preferred the afternoon appointments because he wasn’t much of a morning person, but it kept him on a schedule that seemed quite the opposite of everyone else. As he approached his room, he noticed Atley across the corridor, trying to break into his own room. He must’ve been locked out. “You know you live here now, no need for breaking and entering into your own room, hey?” He gave a boyish grin, goofy as ever, and then added, “I’ll let you in. Don’t tell Mia I stole the master key from her a while back, yeah?” He disappeared into his room across the hall with the to-go container still in hand, returning with empty hands other than the key. It opened with a satisfying click. “Here you are, then. Our secret. By the way, I don’t know if Mia told you, but we’ll gather in a bit to discuss logistics and things once Emerson sends us the itinerary and the rider entries. You should come, being that you’re a part of this team and all.” == A few minutes after 14:00, an official memo was announced with the riders for the first competition of the season. Mia was not surprised to see her name at the top, and Cam’s next to hers. As the captain and co-captain of the team, they were expected to put up good scores at the first competition of the year to make a statement. They needed redemption. The following two names were Fiona and Zoe, which made sense. It was a close enough competition to let Zoe get one of her five competitions in and her debut out of the way, and this competition had a notoriously rigorous cross-country portion, so they were relying on their best cross-country rider to balance out scores. Lucas and Lena weren’t especially needed, Cole had not done well on this course the year prior, and Atley had just moved in. It wasn’t a good idea to start him with all of the transition in his life, not when they would be needing him for their back-to-back the following two weeks. As they usually did, Mia found herself and the other riders trailing out to the common room in the center of the residential facility, gathered around the coffee bar as Cam distributed whatever it was he felt like making. Mia waited a few minutes, wondering if everyone would be showing up, or if some of the riders were too busy with the vet and farrier to make it to the informal meeting and would need to be filled in at a later time. |
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Darkseeker
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Atley was good and well sat. He’d braced himself for some kind of sharp reprimand, or worse, a patronizing pat on the head, but Mia had handled his question with a calm, nonjudgmental grace that caught him off guard. She treated him like an adult. Maybe not one who’d made the best decisions, but one worth the benefit of the doubt. That alone was enough to make his stomach twist with something uncomfortably close to guilt. He licked his lips and wiped his damp palms on the thighs of his already half-soaked jeans, mind turning over the logistics. Technically, yeah, it would be smart to have a backup horse. Jacky was a good boy, solid, dependable, and a reminder of home, but he wasn’t built for this. If Cap was ever off on a show day, Atley would be totally out of luck. He nodded through the end of Mia’s little speech, half-listening, his thoughts already miles ahead. When she finally walked off, Atley muttered a quiet goodbye and dropped his forehead against Cap’s warm flank with a dramatic huff. “This is going great,” he muttered into the horse’s side. He walked Cap out to the pasture to dry in the sun, still gently stroking his neck, then headed off to find Jacky. The familiar weight of his phone in his pocket made him sigh. He hated this part. Calling his agent was never fun, but especially not when it meant admitting she’d been right. Again. It was *also* more than a little embarrassing to even *have* an agent, but without her, he would’ve been totally lost. She’d *told* him he needed to bring a proper backup for Cap. And of course, Atley being himself, had thrown a whole tantrum about bringing Jacky instead. Now here he was, tail between his legs, asking her to book a flight to send Jacky home. The call was short and mildly painful. Jacky would be on a flight back to Montana by the weekend, and a new prospect would be arriving in a few days, something eventing-bred and expensive enough to make Atley’s wallet flinch just thinking about it, one of his old back-ups. He hung up and rested his face against Jacky’s mane for a long moment, eyes burning. He didn’t cry. Not really. Just...well. He let his vision go a little blurry, and gave himself a few seconds of silence to mourn the latest little piece of home slipping away. Then he straightened up, gave Jacky a final pat, and trudged back toward the main building. He wasn’t hungry. His stomach was a knot of homesickness and self-loathing, but he was jet-lagged, heartsore, and so, so lonely. Getting locked out of his room hadn’t exactly helped matters. Cam had been nice about it, genuinely kind, offering help without a trace of condescension, but Atley had still barely managed to croak out a stiff “thanks, sorry” before ducking inside and slamming the door behind him. He collapsed onto the unfamiliar bed, curling on his side like a kicked dog. The ceiling had a crack in it, and he stared at it like it might spell out the answers to everything. His phone rang. He ignored it. He *knew* it was his mom. She’d want to hear how things were going, want to know about his new team, want updates on Cap. And she’d tell him all about what he was missing back at the ranch. He couldn’t handle that. Couldn’t bear to hear about the morning cattle runs, or the farm dogs waiting beside his truck for him, or the ache in his dad’s voice when he talked about how quiet the barn was without him. So he let it ring. Eventually, sleep dragged him under in a short, shallow nap. He startled awake barely thirty minutes later, nerves jangling with the fear of missing team meetings or dinner or whatever mandatory thing he hadn’t written down. He double-checked that he had his room key this time, shoved it in his pocket like it was a lifeline, and made his way down to the roster board. He wasn’t surprised not to see his name listed for any of the upcoming slots. It made sense, they’d probably assume he was still adjusting. But it still stung. He was desperate to prove himself. Being new sucked. Atley rubbed a hand over his eyes and drifted toward the commons area. Back at home, he would've been out in the middle, talking and laughing, but here it was different. He slipped into the corner, tucked himself into the shadows, observing, watching and cataloging. He didn’t mind it, really. It gave him time to study everyone, figure out who was who, where he might fit, who he could trust. It was better to watch first. Get the lay of the land before stepping into it. And right now, the only thing worse than being the new guy was making the wrong impression before he had the chance to be anything else. |
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Summer Month: 1 
Day 