I've Been Wrong Before [Open]

[Gabriel Mancini]

[atrb=border,1,true][atrb=style, background-color: 8B0000; border-left: #1C0E0E solid 5px; border-right: #1C0E0E solid 5px; border-top: #1C0E0E solid 5px; border-bottom: #1C0E0E solid 5px; width: 520px;][atrb=border,2,true][atrb=style, background-color: 8B0000; border-left: #160F0F solid 5px; border-right: #160F0F solid 5px; border-top: #160F0F solid 5px; border-bottom: #160F0F solid 5px; width: 530px;][atrb=border,3,true][atrb=style, background-color: AC0000; border-left: #800000 solid 5px; border-right: #800000 solid 5px; border-top: #800000 solid 5px; border-bottom: #800000 solid 5px; width: 540px;] GABRIEL MANCINI World's Always Ending Gabriel rode Ender into the courtyard of the main barn and dismounted slowly, landing awkwardly on sore, unsteady legs. The bay gelding snorted, swinging his head around to rub his sweaty head on the nearest object, Gabriel, who wobbled and gently pushed Ender's muzzle back. "Nice try, buddy. Should have given you a longer run, I'm sorry," Gabriel said, smoothly unbuckling the reins and pulling them free of the running martingale. "C'mon, let's put you away. Longer session next time, I promise." Ender followed hesitantly after Gabriel into the main barn and into the grooming stall they'd vacated forty minutes ago. It had been a short ride - just enough to test out the facility and cross-country grounds. He was enthusiastic about the latter in particular, as the last barn he had been at, up until a week prior, had only half a dozen beginner-novice level jumps. At Crossfire Farms, there seemed to be an abundance of every level possible. Gabriel would have been out there longer, but a combination of hunger and tiredness had given him a scare at a coffin jump, where he'd nearly taken a dive over Ender's shoulder at the last part of the combination. Scared straight. He needed that more often - obviously he wasn't doing a good job keeping himself in check. Once Gabriel was inside the barn, he stopped speaking aloud to Ender. Forty minutes ago, there had been one person bobbing around feeding carrots to a horse at the opposite end of the main barn, and a couple of others had been using the indoor arena, judging by the occasional cheer. But now, everyone seemed to have come out of the woodwork, and every couple of minutes someone would pass by the front of Ender's stall, on a mission somewhere. Gabriel frowned and focused on tacking care of Ender; replacing the worn, brown leather bridle with an equally worn leather halter, and stripping off the close-contact saddle and red saddlepad. He deposited the saddle on the rack outside the stall, with the pad flipped upside down over the seat to air it out, even though it hardly needed the treatment. As Gabriel bent down to grab a curry comb and brush from his grooming box beneath the saddle rack, he felt a rush of dizziness and lurched. The only thing that prevented him from toppling, face-first, into the not-terribly clean ground was the arm he flung out to latch onto the edge of the stall door. "Shit," he muttered, feeling the breath catch in his dry mouth, and the unsteady rush of adrenaline spike through him. Feeling altogether unwell, Gabriel ripped off the red eventing vest that was velcro'ed around his chest. It flopped on top of the grooming box, swiftly followed by the thin zip-up windbreaker he'd had on under it, leaving him in a ragged, well-loved Abney Park t-shirt and beige schooling breeches. He didn't feel much better, but he grimaced, kept a hand on the stall door to steady himself as he grabbed the grooming tools again, and ducked back into the stall, leaving the door wide open. "Knew you should have eaten more earlier," he berated himself in a low whisper, a hiss audible only to himself and his horse. "And drunk something besides those drinks this morning." He applied himself to the task of grooming, keeping one hand on Ender's neck or barrel to keep the gelding from shifting anxiously into him. Stalls were never one of Ender's fortes; particularly as he had rarely been stabled for the past three years. It was one of the downsides of a cheaper facility, Gabriel reflected. It was cheap for a reason. Just now, as he curried off the subtle sweaty girth marks under Ender's barrel, Gabriel bemoaned his own cheap facilities - he'd moved into the trailer park district three weeks ago in order to afford the more expensive board - Crossfire Farms - for Ender. He'd also skimped on a few... essentials for himself. Namely, a decent mattress. As a result, he received an uncomfortable night's sleep, and particularly paid for it on days like these. Gabriel threw the curry comb and brush onto the mess of the grooming box and fished out a hoof pick. Wandering back through the open stall door, he went to the nearest foot and dug out the pat of mud and grass. As Gabriel set down the fore hoof and shuffled, still bent over, towards the hind hoof, the gelding took the opportunity to dance sideways as he caught a glimpse of another horse walking past. Ender whinnied loudly, oblivious to Gabriel's predicament as the rider was shoved aside. Gabriel staggered sideways, head bursting into spinning waves of dizziness, and slowly slithered down the stall wall. Ender stomped his back hoof and called again after the horse he'd spotted, sending shavings scattering all over Gabriel's half chaps and settling the finer pieces into the exposed laces on the lower part of his boots. In just a second, Gabriel thought. I'll get up in a second. As conflicting tides of hunger, tiredness, dizziness, and alarm rolled through him, Gabriel's head flopped to the side at an awkward angle. He closed his eyes in a slow blink. Not even the helmet strap that dug into his chin bothered him anymore. | words: ~900 | tags: open | notes: Get used to the length. Care to join the madness? |

[Brooke Loralei Alvarez]

The barn was busy today; perhaps slightly busier than usual. Brooke knew this because she spent her days at the stables, riding her cousin's horses and teaching lessons in order to earn her keep. Jax was nice enough to let her use his horses for her clients, and not make her pay anything towards their costs, but the twenty-three year old still worried about how she was going to manage to support her and her younger sister. Of course, spring meant tank tops and short sleeved shirts, making it all the more difficult to hide the marks on her back from the world. The Spaniard led Vi, her (or rather Jax's) Paso mare into the barn as she pulled her hat off with her free hand. Spring may only just be starting, but it was already devilishly hot, something that had managed to hit the woman upside the face after the freezing weather they'd had only a couple of weeks ago.

Brooke ran a hand through her damp black hair, that as well as her dark skin and brown eyes giving away her Spanish heritage. Most people here didn't know who she was other than the fact she was from Spain, in terms of where she'd been in society over there, and she wanted to keep it that way. Of course, the money issue wasn't the only reason her pride got in the way, although it still stung a little. She'd always come from money; always been able to afford the things she needed without having to worry about the consequences of it. Now, she had to rely on her elder cousin's kindness in order to survive. Not that her half-sister Alexis helped - she didn't even have a job to help pay bills with. Still though, anything was better than returning to Spain and living under her brother's violent thumb. In general, Violetta was a very calm, gentle mare. Hardly anything set her off, unlike a couple of the other horses Jax owned. Of course, that didn't mean she couldn't set other horses off accidentally, which seemed to happen as the pair wandered past one of the new additions. There was a whinny and a crash, sending Brooke's horse skittering across to the other side of the aisle and, at rather high speed, into her own stable. She muttered a curse in her native language as Vi yanked her along, feeling her body's fragile centre of gravity shift. Luckily, the black mare wasn't that heavy and so the incident didn't come to much but, it served to remind the woman of how careful she had to be in order to avoid injury these days. I'm lucky that wasn't Ricochet or Kismet, the instructor thought grimly, knotting Vi's reins under her throat and muttering that she'd be back in a second.

Usually, Brooke wouldn't be overly concerned at such a small event, the likes of which occurred often when you considered the fact that Crossfire got an awfully high intake of newcomers on a regular basis. Besides which, it would be polite to check if the other horse had hurt anyone in the process. Making her way over, Brooke pushed her sunglasses into her hair in order to keep it out of the way as a slight, amused smile flickered over her sharp features. Polite? Interesting. Six years ago, she'd never been anything close to that. Nowadays, she needed to be in order to keep her job at the barn. Arriving at the culprit's stall, that smile quickly dropped away when the dark-haired woman noted the guy in the stable. No blood, that was good, but she wasn't entirely sure if he was even conscious or not. Brooke entered the stable, pulling the door shut (although leaving it unbolted for the moment) behind her out of habit. She whistled a soothing tune quietly so as not to startle the stable's equine occupant any further and squatted down, exceptionally stiffly for a young woman, beside the boy.

He wasn't anyone she'd seen before so she supposed both he and the horse must be new. On the bright side, he was technically conscious, although she knew that feeling and a lot of the time it didn't really count because you were just about to pass out anyway. Damn. She'd left her water by Vi's stabl; if she hadn't, the Spaniard knew perfectly well that the easiest way to bring someone back from this state was to spray them with it; not that he would appreciate it. Instead, Brooke did the next best thing, and poked him somewhat tentatively. You could never really tell how people were going to react to strangers when barely conscious.

"Are you - " No, she stopped halfway through her question. Clearly, the guy was not okay. Brooke took a second to think of what to ask instead, her English becoming somewhat - surprisingly - broken for once as she started again. Usually her grasp of the language was perfect, but seeing as Alexis and Jax were her main companions at the moment, she'd spoken little else but Spanish for nearly two months. "Do you...I mean, are you in...need...of - help?"

Well, that was always a good way to make yourself sound intelligent right off the bat.

(Please excuse the lack of template. I lost all of mine when I accidentally wiped my phone's memory but I'll try and sort something out. That said, let's see how these two get along :3 words: around 920)

[Gabriel Mancini]

[atrb=border,1,true][atrb=style, background-color: 8B0000; border-left: #1C0E0E solid 5px; border-right: #1C0E0E solid 5px; border-top: #1C0E0E solid 5px; border-bottom: #1C0E0E solid 5px; width: 520px;][atrb=border,2,true][atrb=style, background-color: 8B0000; border-left: #160F0F solid 5px; border-right: #160F0F solid 5px; border-top: #160F0F solid 5px; border-bottom: #160F0F solid 5px; width: 530px;][atrb=border,3,true][atrb=style, background-color: AC0000; border-left: #800000 solid 5px; border-right: #800000 solid 5px; border-top: #800000 solid 5px; border-bottom: #800000 solid 5px; width: 540px;] GABRIEL MANCINI World's Always Ending If it weren't for the small nudging in his side, Gabriel's rest would be peaceful. Ender? No, that would be impossible. The big bay didn't nuzzle with a carrot jammed between his lips. But the nagging sensation continued, and Gabriel forced his eyelids open. When he realized his line of vision was aimed at the sawdust between his outstretched foot and Ender's hooves, he Black hair swung into his view, followed by hesitant questioning. In English, apparently. There were what sounded like several sentences worth of fragmented questions, but damned if he could piece them together logically. I'm alright, he thought, but what his mouth said was, "urhmmm..."It was an inarticulate response to what was presumably a logical query, but there was a disconnect between his mind and his tongue. Slowly becoming aware of the chin strap digging into his throat - undoubtedly contributing to his tongue-tied problem - he scrabbled with the snap. He pulled it off and let it roll away at his side, ignoring it as the red, flaming helmet cover was covered in shavings. Conscious of the rider crouched by him, Gabriel pressed his slender fingers over his eyes. Despite how hot the rest of him was feeling, his fingertips were cool - that's poor circulation for you, fool, he berated himself - and the difference in temperature seemed to appease some part of the ill feeling that had a hold on him. He kept his hands in place for a few seconds, then withdrew them, feeling the nausea and dizziness lift away. Mostly conscious once more, Gabriel looked at the rescuer who had come to investigate and immediately felt embarrassed.Not only had he drawn attention to himself with his stupid episode, but he'd also attracted the attention of a black-haired woman who, by any standard, would be considered attractive. From experience, Gabriel knew beauty was usually related to social status. The rules that applied in high school usually seemed to hold fairly true out in the real world... maybe everyone else still hadn't let go of their youth experiences either. And being on the 'help' radar of any high-status individual had never, in his life, led to good times. Suddenly nervous, his mind racing, Gabriel raised a hand to drag through his matted hair, trying to straighten it up and look like he had everything under control. It was pretty clear he didn't, given that he'd nearly passed out in his horse's stall, but that didn't stop him from trying to put on a front. Not many people had seen his ugly side in a while; he'd kept it well hidden and in control for a while, but with the stress of moving and the new location, all his bad habits had seemed to come back. Distraction, that was what he needed. Anything to get on his own and deal with himself. Put away Ender and get some food, in that order. "Don't you have something better to do?" His voice and brain had finally matched up, but god... was a blatant, rude dismissal the best he could come up with? Way to go, he congratulated himself mentally. Just drive off the only person who might feel like helping. "Sorry," he stuttered, the former nausea in his stomach being replaced by an all-too familiar feeling of dark hate and wanting to beat himself up. "I mean, I hope, I didn't disrupt whatever you were doing. I'm fine, really - sorry to have caused any trouble." Finally, he met the woman's eyes, putting on a smile that was slightly distorted, trying to convince her of his sincerity. To impress her of the 'okay' factor, Gabriel summoned his energy and got one leg beneath him, and levered himself upright. His legs shook while he stood, and he leant against the stall wall in what he hoped was a casual manner, but he was upright. That counted as 'fine', right? | words: 670ish | tags: none | notes: apologies for the shortness and lateness; had a bit on this week. |

[Brooke Loralei Alvarez]

Now Brooke wasn't always the most friendly of people, but that wasn't because she was just vain and suffering from an inflated ego; the girl had her own reasons for being distant from those surrounding her, and she was honestly trying to fix the few habits that she still had from back when she'd lived in Spain. Things were going better than they had been for a while though, even if Tyler and her had broken up. She supposed even bad things had their reasons, but some of them were still hard to swallow. Turning her attention back to the person in front of her as he slowly began to return to a state of intelligence, Brooke raised an eyebrow as he simply grunted rather inarticulately in response to her question. State of intelligence? Perhaps that was taking it a step too far at the moment. She knew what he must feel like right now though, so she merely rested her chin on her hand and waited calmly. He'd come around properly eventually, and hopefully would be able to talk sense once he did...or they'd have a bit of an interesting time of it, because Brooke was already struggling with the English as it was.

That said, when he did finally seem properly conscious once more, the Spaniard almost began wishing he'd go back to being half-passed out and nonsensical. Honestly, she was really trying to be friendly over here for once, and she was really getting a load of attitude for it from a kid who was probably at least three years her junior? It was rare for her to lose her temper these days, and it'd probably cause her to lose her job if she did it to a client, but she didn't take too kindly to being talked to like this. Brooke's hand dropped away from her face again as she pulled away from him coolly. Irritation flashed briefly across her pretty features - why did people struggle so much to accept help when so often, that was exactly what they needed? The dark-haired woman stared at him for a moment, sizing him up. Her reply slipped out before her brain had a chance to kick in and either screw with the sentence's grammar or, more preferably, stop her from saying it altogether. "Yes, I bloody well do. But does it matter?"

Of course, she regretted that as soon as he apologised, because he was quite clearly sincere in saying sorry. That meant she'd probably just made things a hundred times worse, but she could hardly do anything about it now....apart from maybe apologise in return. Which could be arranged, but the Spaniard found her pride getting in the way right at this particular moment. Brooke straightened up as he did, just managing to avoid voicing the internal groan of pain as she did so. Folding her arms across her chest, the young woman merely gave him an unimpressed look. Yes, he may be standing up straight but if the stable wall happened to suddenly disappear, the rider would have keeled straight over backwards. "Don't worry about it. When was the last time you actually ate anything?" Brooke was used to passing out from pain rather than lack of food, but apparently the latter was more common and horse riding was sometimes not easy at the best of times, even if one was used to eating three proper meals a day. Taking a look at this guy, Brooke somehow doubted that he ate that frequently. That was a novel thing for her; never had the girl had to worry about whether she could feed herself or not. It may have been a little forward of her to ask questions like this, but Brooke knew perfectly well that often people wouldn't admit things like that unless they were asked straight questions about it. To be frank, Brooke could pretend all she wanted but if somebody looked her in the eyes and asked her whether or not she'd ever been hit, she knew she wouldn't have been able to lie.

Perhaps it was a slightly different situation right here, but the principle remained the same. Money, health, family; all were the sources of secrets in the end. Now she knew that this guy was most certainly not okay, Brooke was not going anywhere until he looked about two hundred times better than he did right now. "I'm Brooke, by the way."

(Sorry it's a little bit rubbish. I was in a lot of pain at the time. And no worries, I know how it is :3)