pleasure exhumes the pain, ♔ open!

[LOTTIE KATHLEEN HARDING]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,width: 320px; background-color: fff;border: 25px solid #7faec9;text-align:center;][atrb=cellspacing,0px,true][atrb=cellpadding,0px,true] lottie was sitting on her bed. staring idly at her clock. it was flashing with the time "11:04." stretching her arms above her head she decided it was probably best to get the day started. tossing her long hair into a high ponytail she strode across the room. she pulled on a pair of cream full seat britches. full seat was always helpful when you needed to sit a huge buck like ori's. she pulled a pale purple polo shirt on. she looked at her arms. she was getting a farmer's tan. and she didn't like that. she was riding inside for sure. her hands were still ghostly white from her gloves. she wrinkled her nose. grabbing her phone and a bag of carrots from the mini fridge she headed to the stable. ori was already in his stall. throwing a fit as usual. he was grabbing his feed tub and shaking his head violently, creating a deafening racket that echoed all through the barn. sometimes ori was embarrassing. but she couldn't help but love the massive gelding. he spotted his owner he let out a loud whinny, half rearing in his stall. he had no manners. she put the carrots and her phone in her oversized oak track trunk and went to his stall. she had purposely ignored his little burst of excitement. grabbing the chain lead from the hook on his door she slid it open only to be greeted with a headbutt. grunting she stepped back as he collided with her. she slipped the chain through his lead so it was over his nose. he lifted his upper lip distastefully, shaking his head to fight the chain. she led him from the stall. he danced eagerly next to her. his neck arched and his tail flying high. she rolled her eyes as she put him on the closest crossties. he was already clean. he had probably been brushed by a groom. she wasn't too fond of that. she preferred to do everything herself despite the stereotype of her being a spoiled brat. she picked his feet before returning to her tack trunk. a set of four polo wraps in black were obtained and then wrapped effortlessly around his thick legs. to finish him off she put a half pad, followed by her custom fit pessoa on his back. she made sure it was at just the right position as she hooked his breastplate to the girth and tightened it. he lifted a hind foot in a threatening manner, pulling it tightly toward his stomach. he dropped it only after a flat palm came down on his rump. she left his side again to toss her hair up into her helmet and grab his bridle and running martingale attachment for his breastplate. she easily bridled him. that was the one thing he had manners about. she led him from the barn toward the indoor jumping arena. releasing his reins she let him follow her as she adjusted the jumps up to around three nine each, leaving one at three foot. she snorted a laugh at how low the jumps had been. she flipped the mounting block so it was slightly taller, as she needed to get on ori. she touched her spurs to his side and he stepped forward lightly. his neck was over bent and his ears were pricked forward as far as they could go. she shortened her reins. she knew this horse. and he was going to explode. TAGGED NONE WORDS 582 NOTES FRESH HORSE IS FRESH ~ [atrb=cellspacing,0px,true][atrb=cellpadding,0px,true]

[aubrey leah wilder]

here we go, just lose control and let your body give in to the beat

Aubrey had spent the morning in the barn, cleaning all her tack and making a list of what needed to be replaced. Her locker in the tack room was littered with broken bits of leather and metal. She recognized some of the litter - a curb hook that had bent out of shape, a standing martingale she had picked up off the ground in the feed room before she discovered it was both broken and dry-rotted... that dort of thing. By eleven, she had a post-it note full of things she had to buy with what little pocket money she had. Another crop, spur straps that weren't nylon, a pair or work gloves without holes in the fingers, and if she could manage it, a pair of open-front boots.

She hadn't expected to spend so long cleaning. In fact, Aubrey's plan was to be on her horse at eleven so she could grab lunch at a reasonable time before starting on the giant calculus packet. The only thing she had done on that was writing her name in the top-right corner, and it was due the day after tomorrow. Wonderful.

Aubrey knew Fritz was clean, thanks to the grooms, so she brought her M. Toulouse saddle, pad, and girth out to his stall. She slid the door open and slipped into his stall, greeting the gelding with a quick pat on the nose before lifting the saddle up to his back. She did up the girth and left the stall, sliding the door shut but not locking it. As annoying as he was under saddle, Fritz wouldn't leave his stall even if the door was wide open. Aubrey retrieved Fritz's bridle, wraps, martingale, and her helmet. She fixed her ponytail so the helmet would fit her head, slipped the standing martingale over Fritz's neck and attached it to the girth, wrapped his legs, and pulled his bridle on - all with almost robotic efficiency.

She led the gelding out to the jumping arena. There would be some serious work today. Fritz had been being annoying about lines - things like changing pace, refusing the last jump... general things that Aubrey needed to nip in the bud before she did anything else. Luckily the jumps were already set up, and a quick check of the height showed that most were at 3'9". It wasn't anything to sneeze at, and Fritz could easily do it, but Aubrey had only been thinking of 3'6" at the most. Still, a three inch difference shouldn't be a big deal.

Aubrey halted Fritz in the middle of the ring before checking her girth again and pulling her stirrups down. She put her left foot int he stirrup, bounced twice, and swung up to Fritz's back. That was the advantage of being almost ridiculously tall - mount anything from the ground. Maybe not the massive chestnut gelding who was the other occupant of the arena, but most horses.

Aubrey scanned the other rider and her horse. The gelding looked like he was ready to run, or buck, or do something, from the way he held his neck and bunched his muscles. Aubrey hoped his rider could handle him, since Fritz tended to be one of those horses that only got worse when there were other horses misbehaving. This would be a fun ride.

tagged: lottie words: five hundred fifty-six notes: it's like they're toddlers, isn't it?