VICTIMS OF OURSELVES--- open

[dorothy]

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The world was unrealistic and so desperately tied to surreal hopes and dreams that people were surprised that Dorothy worked as hard as she did. Yet as she emerged from her car, still in her work clothes and walking towards the barn in shoes that were anything but appropriate, it was easy to see why people were so disillusioned when it came to Dorothy Brannick. The young woman seemed anything but real with smiles that slid like intoxicated snakes and eyes which could see clean through a person. Even after nine hours of darting across Dallas and then driving back to Addison the girl looked as if she had just awoken and was ready to begin. And it was not that Dorothy wasn’t tired, she merely refused to be reined in by work and to allow the world to pass her by. She was far too pretty to allow such wastefulness.

Loving was another word people did not often use to describe Dorothy who often seemed cool as ice and delighted in the embarrassment of others, yet anyone who didn’t see that side of her was likely a waste of the oxygen it took to keep them alive. Love was all she had for the tall pinto that stuck his head from his stall as the sound of heels clipped their way down the aisle smoothly. She approached him with the faintest of smiles on her face, taking his maw into her long fingered hands, a touch which the exotic Marwari elegantly bowed his head to, allowing her to kiss his forehead at the base of his distinctive inward curved ears. But as soon as it came he denied it, jerking his head away with a wild eye. The two of them were very much alike, otherwise Dorothy may have been very opposed to the large, flashy, yet tyrannical gelding.

Indeed the two were the perfect pair, a long legged young woman with a long stride and quietly clicking boots and the tall gelding with the flamboyant and extravagant movement, moving in limbo between a walk and a jog as he lead easily at her side. There was only a brief stop at the tack room, more than half of the day was already gone and while this was Dorothy’s place to unwind, to remove herself from her life that was so high fashion, artistic, fast paced and dirty, she would rather not use that time idling about with straps and belts. A quick brush down and on went the side saddle (Dorothy didn’t care to show her cooch to the waiting audience of a boarding barn by riding in a normal saddle, that was tasteless even for her) and the double reined bridle, the gelding accepting the bit calmly and like a veteran. Work was play for him, as it was for Dorothy.

An awkward mount was made graceful as Dorothy hoisted herself onto the large horse side saddle with the greatest of ease, hooking her leg over the pommel and pushing the edge of the dress over her knee as the two exited into the indoor arena, peacefully empty for the time being. Never one to shy from interaction, Dorothy was never one to favor horse-snobs and elitists, especially those which might look upon her exotic mount in disapproval. Like with any friend, Dorothy was fiercely protective over the gelding and found him far more attractive to the eye than many of the horses she had seen. For now the pair were content to walk along, feeling no need to prove anything to anyone who might enter. It was a bit of an awkward sight, the long legged girl in her gold dress upon a horse which walked with large parade movement at a relaxed and easy walk, but Dorothy hardly looked the type to care, or humor any remarks.

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WORDS 642 TAGGED OPEN OUTFIT CLICK HERE
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[donte8]

TROY FRANKIE SPENCER

AND I'LL CARRY YOU, WHEN YOU NEED A FRIEND, YOU'LL FIND MY FOOTPRINTS IN THE SAND

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"Come on this is our stop." Troy said quietly to his niece who was sitting opposite him. Not that she needed telling, she knew off by heart where the bus stopped. Conveniently just outside Crossfire farms, not everyone who owned a horse here was able to afford a car suited to their needs to get them to the stables. Tory (and Demmi) had to rely on the buses to get them there and back. At least until he had enough money to order a custom built car and get himself some prosthetics fitted. Well for the while, the duo would have to settle for the bus services. Not that they were very good. But yet good enough to get them there. The bus came to a stop at the appropriate point, letting it's air breaks off as it lowered the door level with the pavement. He reversed his wheelchair out of the space it was and bumped down on the pavement off of the bus. He thanked the bus driver as he left, instructing Demmi to do so as well as she followed behind him. Not that she needed telling that either. She was incredibly polite for an eight year old.



He waited for her to get off the bus and fall into step beside him, they travelled down the lane, which lead to the open driveway of Crossfire. Troy looked to Demmi, who was obviously itching to get to the barn, but was restricted to the slow pace of Troy in his wheelchair . Noticing this he gestured with his head towards the barn, enabling his hands to keep spinning the wheels of his chair around. "You go get groomed and tacked up, while I get the lucky job and make myself comfy in the indoor." He smiled and Demmi looked at him gratefully. As if she was relieved that he was letting her leave him. This made him feel bad, as if he usually restricted her from doing what she pleased. He probably did, while he was meant to be caring for her, it was the other way around. She was caring for him most of the time, yes he was the strict uncle who kept her from going anywhere out of eyesight and prevented her from getting herself into danger. She was the one who cared for him and made sure he could get everything he needed. Even if it was just reaching something out of the top cupboard. They were a good team, yes, but sometimes Troy couldn't help but feel as if he was doing nothing for Demmi and that she would be better off living with someone else. He watched her as she dashed off towards the barn. He almost called out a reminder to not run inside the barn, but stopped himself. Knowing full well she'd probably start walking as soon as she got inside.



By the time he reached Ted's stall, Demmi was just reaching up to put his saddle on. The horse was standing patiently while Demmi climbed the little stool so that she could reach the horse's back. The horse was much too big for her and he was itching to help her out with the saddle. It wasn't exactly light. And it was even heavier for the young girl lifting it. If there was any way he could help he would, but the simple fact was that there was nothing he could do but watch. With a grunt Demmi placed the saddle on Ted's back, the horse flicking an ear back to the noise from the little girl. Troy rolled his chair round to the front of the horse as Demmi did up his girth and got her gear on. He reached out a hand to the bay gelding's muzzle, scratching it gently with a finger. Ted leaned into it, blowing softly on his hand. How he missed riding his trusty steed. He was possibly one of the best horses he had ever owned, and really really wished that he could ride him again one day. But to be truthful, he wouldn't know where to even start. He couldn't get up from his chair let alone get on a horse. He was burst from his thoughts as Demmi appeared by the horse's head, a small hand wrapped around his reins. "Ready?" She asked with a smile, turning Ted in the direction of the arena. "Lead the way." Troy smirked and waited for them to pass him as he trailed behind. As he followed he noticed how tiny she looked in comparison to the gentle giant. She really did need a smaller mount.




Once inside the Indoor arena, Troy made his way over to the stands, where he parked himself up in one of the spaces left for disabled people. He hated thinking himself as disabled. But the truth was that he did now have a disability. Most people who had both legs amputated were often classed as disabled any way. Even if Troy didn't think the same. He watched as Demmi looked up patiently into the arena, spotting the other horse further down the other end. "Doors!" She announced loudly, warning the other rider that the doors to the indoor were about to open. She slipped inside, Teddy professionally entering and swinging his hindquarters around to allow his little rider to close the doors. Ever the pro, Demmi lead him to the centre of the ring to keep of the track, checked his girth, took down he stirrups and lead him to the mounting block. Awkwardly she mounted. Even with the help of standing on the tallest block, it was still quite a feat to get on the 16.2hh horse. She asked him to walk on, he feet barely reaching below the saddle. After a couple of minutes warming up, she started to work him properly, or as nicely as an eight year old could. She was mindful of the other horse, so entranced in her own work that she didn't notice the inwardly twirled ears of the other horse. Or the slightly strange conformation he possessed. Well it was strange compared to Ted's own common Warmblood build. Troy on the other hand had noticed. And not passing up any opportunity to socialise he waited for the rider to walk past the stands. As she walked by he called out to her in a kind tone of voice. "Nice animal you have there. Marwari?" He questioned, almost certain of the animal's breeding, but not overly confident.



Troy grinned at her as she rode past, eager to make sure it seemed he wasn't making fun of her animal. He knew many people didn't like things to be out of the ordinary or change. And this horse was certainly unique.




ooc;;
notes;; I hope you don;t mind these two joining in.
wearing;; coming