By my blood, I will ride.

[thescorpioracesfestival]

Where do you think the mare goddess dropped her shell?

RULES:

Reblog this post and add the location of the shell.

Choose wisely! You may guess only once!

Open to all Festival participants until NOV. 15th.

Winners earn a bonus entry in the giveaway.

You will be messaged with a code if you’ve guessed correctly.

Once you have been notified, go to the giveaway widget on the RULES page to enter the code!

[roseravenkey]

The Rock

[thescorpioracesfestival]

The Scorpio Races Festival 2019

If you’re participating in the Character Challenges, sign up as either a Rider or a Tourist.

Reblog Gratton’s Chalkboard with your character’s name, your capall’s name, and your url to sign up as a Rider.

About Ask Submit

[roseravenkey]

Character Name: Rose Sherwood - 20 years old.

Horse: Jacob - 15hh black island pony.

Capall: Sleipnir - Black - owned by Tessa Westfall.

@roseravenkey​

[roseravenkey]

Apologies

Apologies for my absence, I’m normally super good at keeping up with challenges. I didn’t intend to leave Tessa, David and Rea, but I had to for a little while to sort out many things with my own Dove. (Though most people call him Jacob) I will continue to write this year’s story, just out of the times because I love writing but I’m swamped. 

See y’all soon!

[roseravenkey]

Rider Challenge #4: Make a friend

URL: @roseravenkey

@thescorpioracesfestival

Character: Tessa Westfall

Thisby is still grieving the loss of the people who have died on the beach so far. For us it was Thomas Benet, for others it could be anyone. Every day my brother gets up and goes about his daily chores as though he’s fine. He takes Dor to the beach every day, sometimes even feeds and grooms Sleipnir for me too. But he’s not fine. He’s keeping himself busy to avoid thinking about it. He tries to hide it and he can from other people, but not from me. I know him too well. He plasters on a smile every time I walk into a room, though I see him when he thinks I can’t see him. He’s quiet and still. He sits for long periods of time when there are no more chores left to do. 

I also keep myself busy. I ride into Skarmouth just about every day with Rea and her two land horses after beach training. We go to coffee shops and spend hours in the bookshop. You wouldn’t have thought it, but we’re both huge bookworms. The bookshop and library owners know us by name. Then again most people know everyone by name on Thisby.

Rea and I are at the bookshop now. We’re browsing the poetry section (I know, I know, we’re huge nerds) and I pick up an old-looking book. The cover was a deep red, silky to the touch despite the age. The title was embossed in gold: “Alfred Lord Tennyson.” As soon as I picked it up Rea looked over my shoulder and admired the book with me. They say you should never judge a book by its cover but this one was gorgeous. 

As I flick through the pages, Rea goes off to purchase the stack of books in her arms. As she’s gone I flick to one of my favourites, ‘The Charge of the Light Brigade’ and as I scan the words so familiar to me, I hear a voice from behind me.

“’Half a league, half a league, half a league onward, all in the valley of death, rode the six hundred.’ Kind of fitting for this time of year, huh?”

I start and spin around. I’m met with someone I don’t know. Odd for Skarmouth, not even recognizing someone’s face in passing. He is tall, standing six foot with ease. He has brown hair so dark to the point it is almost black. His eyes are a dark hazel or green, depending on the way the light shines on them. He’s handsome for sure, but they way he dresses doesn’t exactly scream Thisby. For starters, he’s perfectly clean and sand-free. Every island-dweller always has some dirt, blood, or sand on them at this time of year. He wears a loose, black, button down shirt with sleeves neatly rolled to his elbows. Under the shirt he has on a dark green t-shirt. His jeans are smart and plain black, the cuffs tucked into the boots on his feet. The boots aren’t working boots by a long shot. Over it all, he wears a simple dark brown jacket. Judging by his clothing and accent, he’s from the mainland. However, looking at him, I notice he doesn’t seem to be as stuck-up as the other tourists. For one thing, he’s in this old bookshop. Secondly, his boots may not be work boots like mine, but they’re worn and he’s obviously had them a very long time. His shirt is lightly wrinkled, jacket lightly scuffed from use. All of this and the fact that he did in fact have the guts to walk up to me and quote Tennyson out of the blue make me decide to reply to him with civility.

“Yes. I suppose it does. Especially the way riders go ‘Into the jaws of death.’”

“Oh I don’t doubt it for a second. These races seem brutal.”

“Why are you here then?” I ask.

“How do you know I don’t live here?” I make a point of scanning his attire and face with my eyes. I emphasize by gesturing with a hand.

“Okay, point made.” He agrees. “I’m here because I’ve never been before and I’m curious.”

“Curiosity killed the cat.” I say, a smile creeping onto my face.

“But satisfaction brought it back.” He counters. I nod in approval.

“Have you ever stared into the jaws of death?” I question.

“No.”

“Well I have. Dozens of times every years since I was born. If you’re unlucky enough, you might meet one of the capaill yourself this year. If you’ll excuse me Mr...?”

“Oh, Barnes. David Barnes.” He gives me a lopsided smile and sticks out his right hand. I take it and he shakes it firmly.

“Well, Mr Barnes-”

“Please call me David, that sounds weird even to me.”

“David. My friend over there is being weird so I have to go and buy this book and leave before she makes a fool of either me or herself.”

He grins and stands aside, allowing me past. I nod and start to walk over to the counter. I pull out some change for the book of Tennyson poems and pay for it before starting to leave the shop with Rea who’d just finished loading her new books into her bag before oggling at the person in front of me.

“No doubt I’ll see you around, David!” I call over my shoulder.

“Yeah, sure thing.” He waves as I stride out of the door and free Sven from the post he and Izabel had been tied to before Rea and I had gone into the shop. I lead him a couple of paces away from Izabel to give her room, put my book into the saddlebag, and mount up. Rea does the same. We ride home at a steady pace, we’re in no particular rush, when Rea speaks up.

“You know, you never told that guy your name?”

“I know.” I reply smugly.

“And he was good looking too! As in, hot.”

“I know.” I repeat, laughing.

“You fool. How come you get to meet nice cute guys in the bookshop and I don’t?” Rea mock-pouts.

“Rea, this is one time. A one off meeting doesn’t mean squat. And you met that guy at the coffee shop remember?”

“I suppose, but he had his own fishing company but no boat. He was a wacko.”

“Fair enough.” I relax and enjoy the ride back. I have a feeling that’s not the last I’ll be seeing of David Barnes.

[thescorpioracesfestival]

Where do you think the mare goddess dropped her shell?

RULES:

Reblog this post and add the location of the shell.

Choose wisely! You may guess only once!

Open to all Festival participants until DEC. 1ST.

Winners earn a bonus entry in the giveaway.

I will message you with a code if you’ve guessed correctly.

Once you have been notified, go to the giveaway widget on the RULES page to enter the code!

[roseravenkey]

@thescorpioracesfestival

The Fires

[roseravenkey]

Mood Board #4! @thescorpioracesfestival

[roseravenkey]

Rider Challenge #3: The Beach

URL: @roseravenkey

@thescorpioracesfestival

Character: Tessa Westfall

Despite my turmoil of the news Rea gave me yesterday, I have to keep my wits about me today. Today is the first day all the capaill uisce will be on the beach at once. Sleipnir has been on the beach a few times, but not with this many capaill since last year’s races. He’s going to be more highly strung than normal. I must keep my wits about me. He will be like a different beast today. That’s the mistake people make on the beach that gets them killed. They think they know a capall, but when it’s that close to the sea with so many of its kind around it, they change. I will not make that mistake today. Someone will die, but I’ll make sure it won’t be me. 

I have Sleipnir groomed and tacked up, ready to take to the beach. He’s adorned with iron bells in his mane, tail, and feathers, laced in with his signature green ribbons. He looks handsome, but he’s skittish on the end of his rope, dancing and singing. He is not wearing his saddle. I don’t trust him enough to ride him today. No, today we will go down to the beach to get back into the feel of Scorpio again. It’s not just him I don’t trust today. I’ve seen a man be ripped clean out of his saddle at beach training by another capall. He had been afraid of his own, but he forgot about all the others that would be there. The last we saw of him, a group of capaill had surrounded him, bleeding red into the cold surf.

Sebastian and Rea are with me, bringing Dor and Jetta with them. Like Sleipnir, Dor and Jetta wear the iron bells and ribbons. Dor in blue, Jetta in deep red. Neither have a saddle on. It’s the way we were taught. The three of us seem to be the only ones with any sense on this island by not riding our capaill on the first day of beach training.

So we all walk the way to the beach. It’s not far, just ten minutes walk. Then again, nothing is very far on Thisby. As we presumed, the beach is swarming with capaill. We can see the mess of the beach. Hundreds of half moon crescents in the sand where the capaill have stood, the waves of the sea are being kicked up by man and beast alike, but the most chilling of all are the red smears of gore which have already begun to stain the sand crimson. 

We can see at the other end of the beach a fight between two capaill has broken out, so I make a mental note to avoid that area. Walking to the beach, we stand there, trying to get used to the beach again. I kind of love it, but it terrifies me. I’ll just think that Sleipnir is settling down, when a capall somewhere down the beach will scream and set him off again. He doesn’t cease his dancing as the capall screams again and he keens back. It’s an unearthly sound, the song of the capaill, and it chills me to the bone. Every time Sleipnir is set off, it irritates Jetta, who every time he makes a sound, she pins her ears and snakes her head at him, teeth bared. They’re far enough apart that as long as Rea and I keep our wits, we should be fine. In theory anyway. Dor likes the excitement of the beach, his tail is straight in the air, his head is high and his ears pricked. Unlike Sleipnir though, he is stood stock still, his nostrils flaring as he takes in the scents. Occasionally his head snaps around and he opens his mouth with his teeth on show when he hears or sees something new, but his feet do not budge until Sebastian tugs on his bridle.

Slowly, we manage to dodge capaill, salesmen, and running riders to edge closer to the water. There are less people closer to the water, as they are afraid of letting their capaill to close to it, lest they get dragged in, but we’ve been riding on the cliffs for a while now, the main reason we’re on the beach to start with is to help our mounts get used to the beach and the water. People are so afraid of the sea, but they forget to train their capaill to become more accustomed to being near it without going mad. That’s our strategy anyway. So we get to within feet of the waves, the salty wind lifting and knotting our hair. The capaill have their ears pricked toward the ocean, and far off in the distance I think I see something breach the surface. I look to my left and it seems Sebastian has seen it too. A look to my right at Rea confirms it. I look back to the spot among the waves to see if it emerges again. It does. The granite coloured head and neck of a wild capall uisce can be seen above the water for just a second until it disappears to the depths again. Granted none of them are ever completely tame, but this is a capall completely untouched by people. Dangerous and deadly.

None of us have spoken since getting to the beach. There’s hardly any point, it’s so loud we’d have a  hard time hearing each other. However our capaill are getting even more restless than they were before and we’ve been here maybe an hour or so, just creeping to the shoreline, so the three of us all look at each other and unanimously make the decision to call it a day. If we stay any longer, especially on the first day, we could put ourselves in serious danger. We walk back up the beach at an excruciatingly slow pace, and just before we leave the beach, we have to walk past a shape hidden under a white sheet. There are two things the sheet can’t cover though, the sheer amount of blood and gore seeping through it and on the ground around it, and the fact that the shape under the sheet is humanoid, but misshapen with joints at odd angles, pieces missing, and a chest cavity with a horrifying hole in it just too big for the sheet to mask. It was bound to happen, everyone knew it, someone was always going to die today, but even still, we are never ready for it. Sebastian is walking first and asks an official standing next to the body,

“Who was it?”

The official hesitates a little before replying,

“I suppose you have the right to know, Mr. Westfall. It was Old Farmer Jon Benet’s boy, Thomas.”

“Thank you, sir. Our condolences to the family.” My brother hides his emotions well, but I can tell he is distraught. Thomas had been one of his close friends for years. I put my hand over my mouth in shock.

“I’m sorry, lad. I know you were close.” 

Sebastian ducks his head now when he walks away with Dor, stooped and withdrawn. I can’t look at the sheet any longer. I dip my eyes to look at Sleipnir’s hooves as we follow Sebastian. We all walk home in silence. Rea splits off to go to her home with a quick goodbye. Once she’s gone, we continue to walk in silence. At home Sebastian turns to me,

“I’m sorry Tess, I need to go in. Please put Dor away for me? I just need... I just need to...”

“Yes, I understand. Pass him here and you go in.”

“Thanks Tessie.” He passes me Dor’s reins and strides into the house. I put away both capaill in their stables and gave them their feeds. I put Dor’s tack away on its peg, then take Sleipnir’s back to the house once I’m done and everything’s away. Walking in through the kitchen I see my brother hunched over in a seat at the kitchen table. He looks up as I come in. His eyes are bloodshot, cheeks flushed, and eyes streaming. I’ve never seen my brother in such a state and I can’t bear to see him like this. He sniffs and when he speaks his voice is cracked and raw.

“I’m sorry, Tess. It’s just that he was one of my best friends, you know? I just can’t get my head around the fact that I will never see him again.”

“Don’t be sorry, Sebs. You have a right to feel how you do. I feel crap too, and I didn’t hang out with him all that much so I can only imagine what it must be like for you.” I toss the bridle in my hand onto a chair and sit on the one next to it, opposite my brother.

“What can I do to help?” I ask him.

“I don’t know. I don’t think there is anything you can do.” He replies.

“How about a mug of hot chocolate? That’s a start at least.”

“Thank you, that’d be nice... Did I ever tell you I have the best sister in the world?”

I smile and stand up to make the hot drink for him. It’s the least I can do to help him grieve. Once it’s made he accepts it gratefully and I give him a hug before settling back in my chair opposite him. We sit there in the pale kitchen light in relative quiet with out drinks for a while until Sebs declares that he needs a little time alone. I gladly let him go to his room and I wash up before going upstairs too, taking Sleipnir’s bridle with me and hanging it on its hook on the wall.

[roseravenkey]

@thescorpioracesfestival​ Mood board #3: Sven the Fjord horse. Currently owned by secondary character Rea in my story.

[roseravenkey]

Mood Board: Thisby

@thescorpioracesfestival

[roseravenkey]

Rider Challenge #2: Reason

URL: @roseravenkey​

@thescorpioracesfestival​

Character: Tessa Westfall

After the incredible race with my brother and once we spent the whole walk home arguing about who won (I did, of course) I met up with Rea and her new puppy in Skarmouth Town. The pup is an adorable little border collie cross gods know what named Felicity. Why she chose that name I have no idea, though knowing Rea she probably threw a baby names book at a wall, saw what page it landed on then saw the first name on the page. Felicity is the sweetest puppy I’ve ever seen, but Rea wants to show me Jetta’s improvements from the last time I saw her a couple of months ago.

I met Rea last year at Beach Training. She didn’t race, her capall, Jetta wasn’t ready yet, but this year she will be. I last saw her a month or so ago, Rea and I usually meet in town at our favourite coffee shop. So we walk to the outskirts of town to where Rea lives, chatting about Jetta’s improvements and playing with the puppy, taking turns to carry her when she got too tired to walk.

Upon arrival at Rea’s house and putting the puppy in her pen in the kitchen, we walk out to the barn just a little way down the road. Rea opens the large double doors and reveals the impeccably kept stables. We walk past her fjord pony gelding named Sven, then her cob mare named Izabel. I pat them both on the nose as I pass, as does Rea. We’ve spent many hours hacking these two out together. It’s a nice break from riding a blood-crazed raptor-horse all the time.

We finally reach the end stable, which has a few empty stables parting it from the land horses just in case and a dark head snakes over the door. Normally, the head would have opened its maw and started trying to bite any living thing that came near her, but instead she just pinned her ears. Rea took Jetta’s headcollar off its hook and put it on the capall mare over the door. They say never to do that as horses can break your arms over the door, but with the capaill uisce, broken arms are better than being torn apart completely by going into the stable with them to put the headcollar on.

To my impressed surprise, Jetta stood for Rea to tie her up and only bared her teeth a little, rather than try to actually bite her. She’ll never be a perfect horse, we can’t expect that of the capall, but she has definitely improved massively even just in the past month. Like many of the capall, Jetta is the dark colours of the rocks on the beach, all greys and dark blues. She was caught in the rain. They say the fastest capaill are caught in the rain, but in my opinion this just makes her highly strung and more prone to try to eat things. I got lucky with Sleipnir. He’s fast and relatively docile as far as capaill go at least. Rea is an incredible horsewoman though. Despite being young she can handle Jetta with little difficulty. She’s not as good as that Sean Kendrick, but then again, no one is anywhere near as good as he is.

We begin to groom Jetta, brushing out her seaweed-grey mane and tail with care, taking curry combs and dandy brushes to her hide. With grooming, Rea starts up the conversation.

“So, Tessy, I’ve been thinking long and hard. I’ve had to come to a decision and you’re not going to like it...”

“What is it?” I can hear the panic in my voice.

“You’re really gonna hate me for this, but... I’m going to have to sell Sven.”

“No! Why?!” I can’t believe what she’s saying to me. Sven, the perfect little fjord pony who would never hurt a fly but could match a thoroughbred in energy if you only asked him for it.

“I’m sorry! I know you really like him, but I just can’t afford to keep him! Even if I won the races it would only be a short term solution! I- I’m as sad about this as you, Tess.” I could hear her voice beginning to crack.

“How much are you selling him for?” I demand.

“Why does it even matter?” She sniffs.

“How much?” I persist.

“I- I don’t know. He’s fully broken in, he’s trained in amateur dressage, though that’s useless on Thisby, he’s a good jumper and he’s good with kids so... I’d let him go to the right home for £2000.” She mutters. Tear threaten to fall down her flushed cheeks.

“Tell you what.” I say assertively. “If I win the races, I’ll buy him with from you with the winnings and a little I’ve been saving up.”

“Huh? You would do that?” Rea wipes her eyes.

“Of course! That little horse is amazing! I’d buy him from you right now if I could!”

“Really!?” I nod my head and Rea throws her arms around me, much to Jetta’s disgust. Then again, everything disgusts Jetta.

“You’re honestly the best friend ever, but do you see how difficult it could be!? The races are terrifying and dangerous!”

“Pfft! I won once before didn’t I? Why not again?” In truth I’m not nearly as confident as I’m showing outwardly to Rea, but I just can’t let Sven go to just anybody on the Island. This way, Rea can still visit Sven often, and bring Izabel to ride with him whenever we want. Selling horses can be risky because you never know who they’re going to or how they’ll be treated at their new home. Horses even go for capall meat, depending on the buyer. You just don’t know.

We finish up with Jetta, I pat Izabel and Sven again on the way out and say my goodbyes to Rea and Felicity at the house before starting the walk home. I have a lot on my mind. I’m not sure of my odds in the races this year, I was training Sleipnir for fun more than anything, now it matters.

I was entering the races for the fun of it. Now there’s stakes. Sven’s livelihood depends on me placing at the races now. I have to win for Sven. For Rea.

[roseravenkey]

The Scorpio Races Festival Mood Board #1: Sleipnir

@thescorpioracesfestival

[roseravenkey]

Rider Challenge #1: Your Capall Uisce

 URL: @roseravenkey

@thescorpioracesfestival

Character: Tessa Westfall

The races both excite and terrify me. I don’t know how people can be so calm about them. Last year I won, but at the cost of a scar on my capall’s handsome face. I’ve felt guilty for that ever since. The hair around his eye where that damned mare bit him didn’t grow back in the lovely ebony colour I’d come to love, but a brutally beautiful silvery grey. It was a constant reminder that yes, I won and yes, we both came out relatively okay in the end, but it could have been so much worse, so easily.

Lying in my bed in the early morning I'm pulled out of my daydreams by a call from my brother downstairs for breakfast. I look around my room it’s fairly bare. Very practical. I never had much reason to decorate it. Apart from one wall. I have one wall above my desk just full of photos and newspaper clippings of last year’s races. My brother, Sebastian managed to snap a photo just as I crossed the finish line in the lead. I have that photo framed and hung up above my bed. It was, and still is, my proudest moment. I have my capall, Sleipnir’s saddle on a rack mounted to the wall, with his bridle hung on a hook next to it. There’s a large chest of drawers with all my clothes, and my wardrobe has in it a grand total of two nice dresses for special occasions. I’m not a very fancy person, I’ve only worn the dresses once or twice each. There isn’t much occasion to wear something that fancy on Thisby. Obviously people do, but they’re usually tourists or work in Skarmouth town. 

“HEY! TESSA! DO YOU NOT WANT PANCAKES OR SOMETHING?” Sebastian all but screeches up the stairs at me.

“Okay! Okay I’m getting up! For the gods’ sake quieten down, I’m not awake yet!” I shouted back. My brother seems to be satisfied as I hear his slippered feet pad across the floor back to the kitchen. I look at my clock and sigh. 8am. With a groan I get up, wrap my fluffy dressing gown around myself, put some fluffy socks on, and wearily plod to the kitchen. 

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty.” Sebastian says in that way only big brothers can whilst flipping a pancake. He deems it done, puts it on a plate, and slides it across the table to me. I catch it and drench it in golden syrup before taking my knife and fork to dig into the now ridiculously sugary breakfast.

“Thanks Sebs. My compliments to the chef.” I mumble. He salutes me with his spatula and finishes off frying the pancakes before dishing them out onto my plate and his own. 

“So. What’s the plan for today then?” He asks, as he does most mornings.

“Um,” I swallow the pancake I had in my mouth, “I was thinking of training with Sleipnir for a bit, maybe ride him along the cliffs for a bit. You’re welcome to join if you want. Then I’m meeting Rea in Skarmouth this afternoon. And that one you’re not invited to, I’m afraid, brother.”

Sebastian hadn’t been able to ride in the races last year as he’d suffered a leg injury not long before, but the both of us will be riding this year. Myself on Sleipnir, and Sebastian on his capall, Dor. Whilst Sleipnir is a handsome jet black stallion, Dor is a pale grey, dappled gelding with a coal coloured mane and tail. It’s not often you see a gelded capall, but Dor had some problems and the best way to sort him out was to have him gelded. They get on like a house on fire.

“Yeah, okay. A race on the cliffs it is then!” Seb announced.

“You’re on!”

I finish my breakfast as quick as I’m able and run upstairs to get geared up to run to the barn. I dress quickly, throw on my coat and grab Sleipnir’s tack off its hooks. 

My brother is already at the barn grooming Dor when I get there so I toss my tack over a rail and get to work. Sleipnir is waiting patiently for me in his stable, nose poking over the door. I slip him a piece of bacon I swiped from the fridge. The capaill are not supposed to eat “human eating meat” as Sebastian calls it, but it’s a nice treat for him. Plus he likes it and it’s never done him any harm.

[thescorpioracesfestival]

TSRF2018 SIGN UP POST

Riders: Reblog the Gratton’s Chalkboard Post with your character’s full name, your capall’s name, and your url.

Origins: Reblog the Gratton’s Chalkboard Post with your url, the word “ORIGINS,” and your character’s name if you’re creating one.

Have you reblogged the Intro Post? :)

RULES

[roseravenkey]

Entering as a rider: Character Name: Tessa Westfall Capall Name: Sleipnir (Black Stallion, named after the fastest horse from Norse mythology) (Url is roseravenkey) 

@thescorpioracesfestival

[thescorpioracesfestival]

THE SCORPIO RACES FESTIVAL 2018: INTRO POST

GETTING STARTED

Reblog this post! Make sure you’re following​ @thescorpioracesfestival​ and @welcometothisby​.

Sign up by reblogging Gratton’s Chalkboard Post.

Please follow the Post Format instructions  on the rules page.

Tag each post with the official tags (#TSRF2018 and #thescorpioracesfestival) and mention @thescorpioracesfestival.

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Claim your entries in the giveaway widget on the Rules Page.

Complete Rules.

[roseravenkey]

#TSRF2018 #thescorpioracesfestival @thescorpioracesfestival

[roseravenkey]

Thanks for all this, I’ve had great fun participating this year and I’m already looking forward to the next! Winning the race only made it better! This is my last moodboard of this year’s Scorpio Races Festival.

[roseravenkey]

Rider Challenge #12: Reflect

@thescorpioracesfestival

It takes ages to get away from the beach after the race. People everywhere are congratulating me. Not that I don’t enjoy that, but I want to get home and clean up Sleipnir’s face. By this point, the blood has leaked all the way down his jawbone and is slowly dripping off his chin. Taking note of this, I finish up on the beach as quickly as is acceptable. I say my goodbyes to Rea, telling her we’d meet up the next day to chat about everything. I then start the walk home with Sleipnir while Sebs takes the car. It’s quite slow. Sleipnir’s blinded by the blood on one side and this makes him jumpy. He spooks at everything on his blind side. He’s a mixture of trotting in place beside me and taking slow cautious steps in the times he’s calmed down a bit. I can’t blame him. I’d freak out if I couldn’t see.

We finally reach home. It’s starting to go dark and the adrenaline from the race has worn off a little, making me feel the cold much more harshly. I see the warm light in the house, but I can’t go in yet. I have things to do. I sigh and lead Sleipnir into the barn. Dor calls out softly as I turn the lights on and Sleipnir hums back. Tying my stallion up with a headcollar outside his stall, I untack him and hose him down over his sweaty chest and flanks. I use the spray to wash the kicked up sand off his belly and legs, taking extra time on his feathers. I check his hooves for signs of wear and see none. I then get to work on his bloody face. I can’t see the extent of the wounds yet. The blood coating his face prevents it. I can’t see if that mare’s teeth got his eye or not. Sleipnir’s squinting, but wouldn’t you if blood was in it. I scratch his neck and jog to the house in search of warm water, grabbing a bucket on my way out.

“How’s he doing?” Sebs inquires as I step over the doormat. 

“I’m not sure yet. Need to sponge him off a bit before I can see the damage properly.” I answer. “I’m not too worried about him though. He had plenty of energy on the way home!”

“Yeah, he’ll be fine. Hey you want help holding him still while you clean him up, Champion?” I’m not gonna lose that nickname anytime soon, and I don’t intend to. I quite like it. I can still hardly believe I won the race! It’s like something from a novel or film, it’s unreal! I chuckle.

“Yeah, that would be great, Brother-of-the-Champion.”

So I fill up the bucket with warm tap water and grab a clean sponge from under the sink. There’s a first aid kit already in the barn so I’ll get bandages from there if I need them. Sebs puts on his boots and follows me out to the barn.

I motion for Sebs to go in front if my capall and hold him still by the headcollar. He does and I load my sponge with the clean water and get to cleaning out my beloved stallion’s eye first. I squeeze out the sponge over him and the water runs down his face, thinning out the red and allowing me to see that his eye has no direct damage to it. He’ll be able to see perfectly clearly again once all the blood’s cleaned up. I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. I use the water while it’s still clear to finish rinsing the blood out of his eye. He’s standing surprisingly still while I do this. But then again, the capaill uisce spend their lives with water in their eyes. When it comes to the actual wounds that’s a different story. I’m trying to be as gentle as I can while still being efficient. The mare’s teeth punctured his skin both above and below his eye. It’s a miracle she didn’t damage anything permanently. 

Sleipnir jerks away from my touch as I press the wet sponge to his cuts. Sebs does his best to hold him still as possible but with the power of the capall it’s not really a fair fight. Still, stubborn as my brother is, he never lets go of the headcollar and always brings Sleipnir’s head back in front of me when he moves away. It takes a while, but I manage to clean out the wounds, and wipe the blood off my capall’s cheek and jaw. He almost looks presentable again. He may scar a little but that’s no matter. All through this time Sebs is silent. He just quietly watches me work while holding Sleipnir as still as he can. To finalise my process I wander over to the first aid box’s place on a shelf and take it down. I open the lid and pull out a tube of antiseptic cream. I put a little on my hand and put it onto the cuts on Sleipnir’s face. I can tell it stings him, but he takes it with only minor complaints which surprises the both of us. I bandage up the deeper of the wounds as best I can without covering his eye to stop the last of the bleeding. It’s slowed down incredibly, but I don’t want anything getting in there and messing up my cleaning work. My brother and I both step back and admire my handiwork. 

“There. Not bad, eh?” I say.

“Not bad at all! Hey. Did I say that Mum rang?”

“No... Why? Wait. Do I want to know?” It’s known that my parents worry about me racing. Especially Mum. 

“It’s not that bad. She just wanted to know you’d survived.”

“And...?” I press, coming to stand in front of my brother. His growing smirk was not a comfort to me. 

“I told her you came in first. She wanted to talk to you but I told her you were busy being a Champion and couldn’t come to the phone...”

“AND?!” It was starting to get irritating now.

“She wants us to go over for tea. To celebrate. I said you’d be delighted.”

“WHAT!?” Dinner at my family’s was always an event. Someone was always a diva and everyone always fell out in some way or another. Like last time. I see Sebs laughing.

“Wait. You didn’t did you?” I ask, uncertain.

“Of course not you melon. If you went I’d have to go too. I told her that you’d ring back.”

“Oh thank the gods!” I sigh, relieved. I lightly punch my brother in the chest and move past him to put Sleipnir away. I finish up in the barn and we wander back to the house together. As we’re taking our boots of I say, “Hey Sebs. You know that you didn’t believe in me and I was gonna die for sure in the races?”

“I didn’t say that at all but go on...”

“Pfft. Well anyway. I said I was gonna be fine and I hate to say I told you so, but... I TOLD YOU SO!” I laugh and start to run away, but my brother grabs my leg and trips me up so I land face first on the carpet. I squirm away and crawl backwards shouting in mirth, “How’s first place for ya!?” He tackles me to the ground and I squeal as he pins me down.

“Eww. You stink, Tessie.” He says, wrinkling his nose. “Go shower and then we’ll talk.” We both laugh as he lets me up and I skip upstairs, ignoring the ache starting up in my muscles. I look in the mirror and see that Sebs wasn’t wrong. I’m covered in dirt and sand. There’s Sleipnir’s blood spattered on my hands and face. Helmet hair doesn’t even begin to describe it. There’s all kinds of dirt in the windswept tangles. I can feel the grime of sand and sea spray in it. I may as well be wearing the island. There’s also a wild look in my eyes I can’t place. Is it the exhilaration of the race? Or possibly the joy of winning? I don’t know, but I like it. I run the bath and hang a big fluffy towel on the radiator to warm up while I wash. I turn the taps off once the bath is full, undress and sink into the hot water. I relax and think about the day’s events. I’d closed my eyes as we’d crossed the finish line, but apparently we’d won by just a nose. The other rider’s just behind us. It was so close. I’m proud. Proud of myself. Proud of my horse. Proud of us.

[roseravenkey]

Rider Challenge #11 - Race Day

@thescorpioracesfestival

 I wake up with a sense of something not quite right in the air. Then it dawns on me. It’s race day.  I think to myself. It’s freaking race day already!? I look over at my phone and wake it up to see the time with blurred morning vision. 9:12am. Not bad... Except for the fact that I need to do tons of stuff before Sleipnir is even ready to leave the stable! Just as I was beginning to panic Sebs walks into my room. He doesn’t knock, he never does. As if he’s a mind reader he limps over and puts a steaming mug of coffee on the bedside table with a grim expression. I can’t tell if the face is from his injury playing up again, or from all the arguing we’ve been doing. He hasn’t tried to take any of my tack again; not after that little stunt I pulled last time. He realised soon after that I wasn’t going to give up, but it didn’t stop him from begging me not to race every time I came in from feeding the capaill stallions. 

“Thanks.” I croak as he sits on the foot of my bed. He just nodded and gave a tight-mouthed smile, running his hand through his dark hair. He’s not happy about this. I think he’s convinced I’m going to die today. But he hasn’t seen Sleipnir and I working together for a while now. He hasn’t seen our progress. My stallion is really well behaved as far as capaill go. He screams at any other capall that comes close, promptly scaring them off. He’s by no means “riding school pony” material. I don’t think he ever will be. He’s a handful, that’s for sure, but he doesn’t try to kill me every five seconds like some others do so in my opinion, that’s a good capall uisce.

I take the mug from the table and take a sip. It’s loaded with sugar and milk, but it’s still incredibly bitter for my taste. I’ve never really liked coffee much, but it will keep me sharp for my big race today.

~~~Timeskip to the beach~~~

The clamour of the beach is incredible. People placing last-minute bets, capaill straining at the end of their reins, chewing the bit, all around is shouting and noise.I look to the sand beneath my feet and see the numerous hoof prints and the unmistakable smears of scarlet. No way is that anything but blood. People have already been hurt today, and more will be hurt later on. People will die today, there’s no doubt about that. 

I hand Sleipnir’s reins over to Sebs and go to find out where I can pick up my colours. I’m not sure if the tent is in the same place as it was last year, but I go to see anyway. I’m straining to see over people and horses, which is difficult when you’re as short as I am, but I locate the tent soon enough and stride over to it, weaving in between capaill and people, all jostling for space on the beach. I approach the tent with butterflies in my stomach; this part is quite exciting I have to admit. Getting my colours is how I’ll be identified from the cliffs. 

“Hi, uh... I’m here to collect my colours?” I say a little uncertainly. Sebs got them for me last year so I’m a little unsure what to say.

“Okay that’ no problem. What’s your name and mount?” A small man asked from behind a pair of glasses. His words were kind enough, but his thin face and sharp features with silvering hair made him look rather stern. I blinked once I realised I hadn’t answered quickly enough.

“Oh, sorry. Tessa Westfall on Sleipnir.” I say hurriedly. The man looks down a piece of paper in front of him for a short while before locating my name near the bottom of the page in the “W”s. I rock backwards and forwards on my feet with my hands clasped behind my back as I wait. 

“Ah! Here you are... Westfall... Tessa.” He mumbles more to himself than to me, ticking the box next to my name. A little louder he says, “Here you are. You’ve got the red colours this year.” He hands me the colours and I take them, thanking the man before setting off back to my brother and Sleipnir. I see the stallion just as he sees me, dancing around at the end of his tether. 

“Stop dancing around, you goon.” I mutter, slapping his shoulder lightly with the back of my hand before taking the lead from my brother. We lead the way back up the cliffs a little before reaching the car. I tie up Sleipnir on a fence post as I get out the tack from the back of the car. The beast has already been groomed over and over again to perfection. The tack has all been cleaned and my boots, chaps and breeches are there waiting for me on the front seat. I tack up my stallion first. Methodically I put on the black medieval-style bridle, then the colours, and then the rest of the tack over them. Red isn’t Sleipnir’s ideal colour. He suits emerald green more than anything, but I have to admit, the blood colour looks surprisingly good on him. Once I’m all ready and dressed up myself I don’t know what to do so I just wait with Sebs in the warmth of the car. Sleipnir isn’t going anywhere outside, tied up as he is. I don’t have long now. We listen in silence to the announcements being made over the loudspeaker on the beach.

We hear the call at the same time, jerking to attention.

“Riders, line up!” 

I step out of the car onto the cold earth and stride over to my mount. I’m trying to ignore my nerves. I just have to get through the next few minutes. I run the stirrup irons down the leathers before making a last minute check on my girth. Everything is in place, just as it should be. I take my reins and try to get my foot up into the stirrup to pull myself up into the saddle but there are two problems. One is that the stirrup is at its jockey length. Far too high for me to reach from the ground. The second problem is that Sleipnir is all excited and won’t stand still. “Bloody beast.” I curse under my breath. Sebs laughs and hauls himself out the car with no small amount of effort. He holds the bridle on each side of Sleipnir’s face and holds him as still as he can while I struggle to jump onto his back.

“Beastie troubles?” I hear a familiar voice call from behind.

“Hey Rea.” I say, glad to see my friend, but pissed off at my capall.

“Leg up?” She laughs.

“Oh, Gods please. That would help loads.” I sigh in relief, grateful for the boost. She walks over to Sleipnir, who takes no notice of her. She gives me a quick hug and then motions for me to stand next to the huge quivering body of my horse. I take up the reins again, holding the saddle in my hands as high as I can reach. I bend my left knee at a right angle and Rea takes my leg in her hands and counts down.

“Three, two, one, jump!”

So I do and she pushes up on my leg at the same time, giving me just the extra help I needed. I swing into the saddle and she even helps me with my stirrups, making sure I was comfortable before standing back.

“You guys don’t look too shabby together you know.” She muses at me and the beast below me. I laugh and motion to Sebs letting him know he can let go of the bridle now, I have control. Just before he does though, he leans forwards and takes ahold of one of Sleipnir’s long ears in his hand and whispers in it, so low I can barely hear. 

“You take care of my little sister, you hear me? You bring her home.” He stands back and pats my knee before wishing me luck. 

“We’ll be watching from the cliffs. The both of us!” Rea calls.

I thank the both of them and hear a second call from the beach.

“Riders. Line up!”

I trot my hyper stallion down the short distance to the starting line. The jostle of sea-crazed capaill is almost unbearable. They’re all driven mad being this close to the ocean. It calls them. 

The countdown begins. My heart pounds in my chest.

“Three, two, one! And they’re off!” The poles lift and the mass of fish-scented horses surge forwards. If I wasn’t holding on so tight, I’d fall off. The amount of raw power beneath me shocks me every time. I almost lose myself to the thrill. But I can’t. That would be a distraction. Distractions get you killed. So I focus on the race. Every part of my body and mind working overtime to avoid the jostling bodies as much as possible. We still get pushed around by the group and I think I’ll be stuck in the middle of the race the whole time. I have a grey mare in front of me, a chestnut on my left and a bay on my right. I don’t know what’s behind me, but I can hear them. I’m solidly in the middle of the group right now. It’s a dangerous place to be. Sleipnir snakes his head to the sides and snaps at the other capaill. I check him, because he’s getting distracted and I can’t afford that. However, his antics startle the chestnut which triggers a chain reaction leading to the grey in front of us moving over a little. This is my chance. Before anyone else can take it, I give Sleipnir a sharp kick to the ribs to redirect his attention into moving forward. We’re already galloping at an incredible speed but once we have space in front of us the pace is unbelievable. I can feel Sleipnir’s muscles pumping beneath my legs, he’s breathing deeply and steadily with each stride. I can’t believe how fast we’re going. It catches me out every time, but this is a whole new pace altogether. The excitement of the day must be giving us a new adrenaline or something. 

I trust my capaill more than most people do and I know his limits. Others are avoiding the surf, but I know that I can get a little closer to it than the others. So that’s what I do. I hear the pounding of my stallion’s hooves against the wet sand as the very edges of the waves lap at his legs. He turns his ear towards the sea, wanting to answer its call, but I slap his neck and his ear flicks back to me again and away from the wind of our speed.

This is when I notice. We’re almost at the front. I gasp and laugh to myself a little. With our built up tolerance of the sea we had managed to pass a lot of the other horses. We weren’t out of the woods yet though by any means. Anything could go wrong at this point. I see the finish line ahead of us in the distance. We’re just over half way now.  Then it does go wrong. The grey mare from before comes out of nowhere and is matching us stride for stride for the time being. I’m between her and the sea, which is a dangerous place to be. Her eyes are wide and scream out her feral nature. Her rider loses control and she lunges at Sleipnir. Her jaw opens, revealing her white teeth just before they latch onto Sleipnir’s face. 

He screams out in pain as blood wells over his eye. I’m just praying she doesn’t blind him. He manages to shake her off, still galloping at full pelt, but she takes some of his skin with her. She dives into the sea, rider and all. She disappears for a second then resurfaces, more blood on her face and no rider. I assess the damage to Sleipnir’s face as best I can from his back. Bless him he’s still galloping his heart out for me though. The blood has spilled from the wounds just above and below his eye. Crimson on black, just like his colours. It makes for an impressive war paint, but the blood has blinded him on that side. His eye is squinted half shut and he tilts his head to view better from his good eye. His pace never falters.

“Good lad!” I shout. “Just a little further and then we can stop, good lad!” This encourages him further and somehow he puts on yet another level of speed I didn’t know about. Soon enough it’s just me and two other capaill at the very front of the race. I recognise the other riders as Charlene Murphy and Finley Holloway. I don’t know how I know them, but everyone knows everyone on Thisby so I’m not surprised.

It’s just us three. Battling it out. The other horses are all squabbling and snorting behind us. It’s between us three now. I’m happy coming in third place. I don’t mind. I’d be happy just to make it home without any further injury. I’ll have a few bruises myself from the way the other riders and capaill slammed into us at the start, but I’m mostly worried about Sleipnir’s eye. I don’t think the mare damaged his eye itself, but I’m worried nonetheless. The finishing line approaches faster and faster, the three capaill get closer and closer together. I close my eyes and hold my breath as we cross the finishing line. I don’t know who’s won. I know I’m finished and I’m relieved. That’s when a mass of people surround us, most of them clapping and cheering at me and Sleipnir. I’m confused. I didn’t win, did I? I just sit there on my panting capall’s back for a second before sliding off and patting his neck, still slightly confused. I then realise I’m breathing just as deeply as he is. He’s slick with sweat and seawater. 

I let my mount breathe for a minute, he deserves that at the very least and just as I take a step back, arms wrap around my waist and lift me into the air.

“Sebastian what the hell are you doing!? Get off me!” 

“Are you kidding me!? You just WON Tessa! You won the Scorpio Races!” My brother can barely contain his excitement.

“I what!?” He laughs at my dumbfounded expression.

“Tessa. You. Won. The. Race. YOUWONTHERACE!” I squealed and gave him a hug tight enough to kill a man as it finally dawned on me. I look around and see the photographers there, ready to take mine and Sleipnir’s photo. The race officials approaching me all saying their congratulations. I look around. There are fewer riders than we started out with. I glance back down the beach before looking away hastily. It’s absolute carnage. Smears of red everywhere. There are a few capaill bodies lying in the sand, mouths slack and eyes half-lidded. More officials are covering other bodies along the beach. Much smaller than the capaill ones. There is no sign of the ones we lost to the sea, apart from the torn leather of a broken bridle being swept against the sand.

I pat my capall again, taking off my helmet and handing it to Rea and brushing the hair out of my face. They shouldn’t technically be here but they must have slipped past the officials. I’m so happy to see them. I still haven’t caught my breath yet. I’m so exhilarated it’s all a blur. The commotion around me as rider congratulate us; the first three. Finley Holloway came in third, Charlene Murphy in second and by the skin of our teeth, Sleipnir and I came in first.