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Post by Story on Dec 15, 2012 18:45:06 GMT -7
Early morning sunlight seemed to illuminate the mist that loomed over the racetrack. Despite being so early in the day, business had started for many. Equine and humanistic figures stirred and drifted along. It was nearly silent, save for faint birdsong, distant voices, and the occasional nicker or whinny of a horse.
The golden light shone through the mist softly, catching the dirt surface of the track and throwing the deep gauges of hooves into relief, shadows scarring the soil. The rapidly approaching rhythm of hooves to ground crescendoed as a powerful Thoroughbred galloped past a figure on the rail. The staccato click of the stopwatch and soft scratch of the pencil came as times were recorded.
This was the everyday life of the racetrack, as predictable as the course of a swiftly moving river. Everything worked like clockwork. The feedings, training, races. Old railbirds hung about, keeping an eye for horses showing potential and comparing to favorite horses, reminiscing for the old days perhaps. The track remained as untouched as the old days where the only changes were the names, dates, and faces.
As a jockey, you are determined to make something of yourself. You must get that horse and ride to fame. As you study the young Thoroughbred examining its surroundings, you reflect on how this horse might be able to make the cut. Perhaps this horse would ride to fame with you in the irons.
"Hey-are you listening to me?" A grizzled old trainer lightly smacks your shoulder with a Daily Racing Forms paper. Startled, you blink and wait for him to speak.
"This horse is doing well in training but it's time to step up. We're sending the horse to a breeding and training facility located in West Virginia. You're going with the horse to work 'em and when the time comes, race 'em." The trainer spoke in a gruff, detached voice. "Pack up and be ready before noon. You leave today." With that said, he disappeared, leaving you with the horse and a groom.
To join, see the Information Section and look for Cross Thoroughbred Racing Facility Joining Page
For more information on this roleplay and anything to do with racing, see Cross Thoroughbred Racing Facility Info Page
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Post by Story on Dec 15, 2012 18:45:28 GMT -7
I, Story, declare this roleplay to be open!
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Post by Story on Dec 15, 2012 18:45:39 GMT -7
Following the previous night's heavy winter storm, snow lay thick over the facility. The path between the pasture and stables had been paved and well-traveled upon already, remaining snow stained brown with dirt. The same path was made from the stables to the bunkhouse, scuffed by many different boots. The occasional single path made by a solitary pair of boots led away from either, area, though this was scarce, filled in by the snow. The air was frigid, but the sky clear. The moon bathed the land in silver and naught but a few stars glistened coldly from a distance. Cross Thoroughbred Racing Facility was a gorgeous sight, nestled at the foot of the Allegheny Mountains. For a peaceful night in December, the facility appeared almost like something one would see painted on a Hallmark card.
Despite the beauty of the surrounding area and the impending holidays, the mood at the facility wasn't one of warmth and joy. News of the death of Miguel Mendoza, a young Mexican jockey who had been staying at the facility, had lowered spirits everywhere. It came as a shock to those who knew him, for Miguel was always there to lend a hand and to listen to anyone's problems.
Aiden Cross had returned to the hospital to speak to the morgue attendant a second time. While talking to Ever, he'd voiced a few doubts and the compulsion to follow up on them was overwhelming. He'd left without another word. Upon going in earlier that day to identify Miguel's body for accurate records, he'd been shown the wrong body and the attendant had explained that the morgue was a bit hectic because of a second car accident. The second body he'd been shown looked like Miguel, but it was difficult to say when no ID had been found on the wallet and the man's face was smashed in and torn up from the accident. The nagging thought Aiden had was that Miguel, ever the predictable guy, was not carrying his green card or wearing his cross necklace. He'd gone back to the scene of the accident and found Miguel's wallet, a fair distance from the actual accident. It was empty, save for his green card. No cash, no credit, nothing.
Adam Apparel eventually left Miguel's room, mind strangely blank and empty. When faced with the death of a friend, he retreated from the pain, attempting to just focus on anything but the pain. He slipped into the bathroom for a moment, splashing cold water into his face to shock his senses. It did the trick, seeming to pull him out of the dark thoughts for a few minutes. He figured that he'd go visit his horses out in the stables, but first, he would need to bundle up. For whatever reason, Adam had become unusually cold-sensitive, easily chilled and requiring heavy duty heating blankets whenever the temperatures dropped. He stifled a cough and pulled on a thick jacket and hat, before heading down the stairs. He had trouble wrapping his mind around the fact that Miguel was dead. He trudged through the snow and into the stables, making his way for the familiar comfort he drew from Celestial Zephyr's company. The cherry bay Thoroughbred immediately pushed his head into Adam's chest, seeking a bit of attention and love. Tremolo and Paranormal Vortex let out sounds of jealousy, demanding attention as well. Gallant Marines merely pinned his ears in disgust.
Sasha Iskander had fallen quiet, hearing nothing but the sounds of the hospital that he was in. Following an attempt to kill himself during a manic episode, Sasha had been hospitalized and suffered a few complications due to the medicine he'd been put on. He was recovering well and had admitted grudgingly to Keely, his only visitor so far that he was considering heading back to his homeland, Russian, for a little while. He intended to visit his mother and to relax back home where his mind suffered less delusions and where he felt safest, most at home. He didn't have to struggle and linger over the words he said in English. He was safe at home and given the distance he needed when he asked, and given attention should he ever seek it. But he had a horse to take care of here in America. The Mighty Fitz, his fine roan colt, was in his care. Who would watch him?
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Dec 15, 2012 18:48:23 GMT -7
Oh man. This will be edited into a nicer post of all my charries later. :3
Rivers went through her questions and comments one by one. "Thanks, her name is Indigo. And no I don't need help and sure, you can touch her." She summed up all her responses as she was getting back to her feet. Rivers held out a strand of hair in front of her blue eyes, drawing a piece of dirt from it. "I'm Rivers, a groom here at the facility," She said, introducing herself to the lady beside her horse. "Do you have a horse yourself?" Rivers proceeded to ask, curious about why Lena had come here and what she'd brought along. Rivers just liked to know things and know what was going on. She rubbed dirt from her cheek using the back of her hand. Gosh, bathing a horse had never been this messy. The girl sneezed a second time and again used another tissue. "Ugh," She mumbled in an icky tone, now sounding congested.
Indigo bobbed her alabaster head, shoving her nose outwards so that it pushed tenderly against Lena's neck. Her nostrils flared as she snuffled along Lena's chin and cheeks. She stomped a long leg, which was palely clouded in grey shades that looked like chuffs of wispy smoke, in frustration to the fact the cross ties restrained her actions. The racer outstretched her neck in attempts to get closer physical contact, all about the cuddling and being babied by any and all.
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Post by Spotify on Dec 15, 2012 18:49:59 GMT -7
(No I had this nice post ready! XD lol sorry I'm poofy Christmas shopping!)
Daisy Mae Summers shivered against the cold, pulling her heavy North Face jacket tight around her. Her velvet cowboy hat was replaced by red earmuffs and her hands were adorned with warm red gloves. A thick knitted scarf dangled from her neck, her cheeks were a rosy pink and her eyes sparkled with warmth and kindness. She, John Luke or more commonly known as Luke, and their horses had settled in and had been shown around by a girl named Dez just before she left the facility, heading for home. She smiled as she stomped her feet against the porch trying to get rid of the snow that had piled underneath her black boots. She headed inside Cross's cabin, her vibrant smile still on her lips
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Post by Deleted on Dec 15, 2012 19:07:12 GMT -7
Wait...can we still rp from where we left off?
Yes -story
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Post by mistycreek on Dec 15, 2012 19:18:02 GMT -7
[Just waiting for Horsey. :3]
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Post by haylee on Dec 15, 2012 19:19:42 GMT -7
MERCEDES WILDE[/color] The lithe, little jockey dressed warmly. She pulled on jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, and a thick jacket. Her hair was left down, and her bangs hung in her pretty blue eyes. She didn't bother to brush them back, after all, they would just fall back into her gaze after a moment or two. Sadie stooped down to gather up her worn, black leather riding boots. She had had them for years, and they were comfortable and suitable, though, she made a mental note she should get a new pair soon, as these had seen better days.
She made her way down the girl's wing staircase cautiously, she could feel her pulse throbbing in time with her head; and it made her dizzy and disoriented. But, she pushed past the nausea and fatigue and slipped out into the chilly world, pulling her jacket a bit tighter and stuffing her hands into her jeans pocket for warmth. Sadie picked her way across the stable yard, taking care in not getting her boots soiled and the hem of her jeans wet.
Once the jockey reached the stables, she entered quietly, relaxing a bit at the warmth that engulfed her being. She sighed, glancing around before her gaze settled on Nevada Virtue. The mare was content, sleeping at the moment with her rear facing the aisle. The pretty white mare had no idea that sadness was eating away at her owner. LuLu was bedded down for the night as well; and Sadie found herself wondering why she had come out to the stables in the first place. She didn't want to bother her horses, but she couldn't sleep either. After a heartbeat of hesitation, she made her way down the way, pausing near Zeph's stall. Her eyebrows shot up at Adam, but she only smiled faintly in greeting, but the smile didn't reach her misty eyes. PETER CHAVEZ[/color] "He's not just a horse." Brea's eyes were boiling with anger. "And I don't trust you. I'm not giving you the lead rope." She stayed put, glaring stubbornly. She didn't care who he was or what he looked like (uh yes she has a crush on him hehehehehe :3), he was not taking Clocks. He didn't deserve him. And besides, she was the one who knew Clocks better than herself, better than anyone. "And no, I can't be a jockey." She dropped her eyes to the ground. This was the one topic she would avoid at all costs.
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Post by Deleted on Dec 15, 2012 19:23:17 GMT -7
Skya Ann was a hollow shell of herself at the moment, her aura thick with grief. Her face seemed to have aged since the tragic news. Her features seemed longer and she had one of her fists clenched, knuckles white and fingernails digging into her palms as if it would help this ache in her heart go away. Accidents happened everyday, but why was it the one time a cherished facility member of Cross Thoroughbred Racing Facility got into one, and a cautious, alert driver at that, he was killed? Her hazel eyes darkened as she thought of why he'd been driving that night- Ever. She knew it was horrible to blame it on a girl who had been through so much, but right now she really needed someone to blame, not to mention her ex-apprentice had gone into cardiac arrest. Her life was hellish. She was still registering it all and piecing it all together, and just needed someone. But yet no one was there to comfort her.
Jordan Pearce wasn't himself. He was lifeless, and he had his good reasons. His blue orbs, that were flooded with all the rivers and lakes and oceans that the earth bore within his dark irises, were distant and never looked anyone straight in the eye anymore. His midnight, short hair was tinted with blue under the rays of the winter sun. His sharp jaw was clenched and his features mysterious in what emotions he was expressing. His weight had dropped dramatically since he'd came to the facility as a trainer and he was built off of muscle, but not too exotically. A light, golden tan covered him and he had that of a quite attractive facial structure though his dark moods took away from this. He didn't know what to think lately.
Velena Lockhart stared at the grey mare in which she was affectionately rubbing. The trainer looked around at Rivers and a soft, small smile adorned her feminine features. Her dark hair fell below her shoulders and her green eyes watched this beauteous mare's every move. She rubbed the thoroughbred's alluring head and nodded to Rivers. "The chestnut with the blaze and three socks. 'S name's Winston." She drawled and absentmindedly ran her fingers through the white-grey horse's forelock, before scratching her cheeks with her freshly cut fingernails. Having a love for horses, the woman was willing to learn anything and everything she was yet to know about training thoroughbreds. At the age of twenty-five, she'd just about mastered training racehorses but yet there were those few things she was willing to learn in her upcoming career of training that she was yet to experience.
Jesse Whitewood furrowed his eyebrows and headed for the warmth and security of the stables. The aroma of manure and horses filled his nostrils, but he didn't mind. He was used to it. The jockey had been picking up mounts at the local track to get himself known but it still wasn't quite working. He ran a hand through his neatly kept brown hair and his blue eyes were calm and held that sophisticated touch that was him. He was matured since his younger, crazier years and had taken on a lot of weight in the past year, causing him to have to mentally mature and get a side job alongside his career. Not that he didn't love his life and how it was going, but it seemed as though he never had any personal time.
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Post by Deleted on Dec 15, 2012 19:32:27 GMT -7
Was my post deleted? >.>
In case I did, I'l say it again. I cannot copy andpaste since I'm on wii, so please resond to my last post on last page 9f the other topic.
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