[open] This Could be a Shipwreck on the Shore

[torres]

Kamikaze airplanes in the sky

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Are we going down or will we fly?[/size]

The fog of early morning encompassed the earth's surface in a thick and blinding fog. You could feel it's cold dampness as it clung to your skin, you could feel the closeness of it as you waded through it only hoping you were in the right place. The only sounds were those of the owls, the ever so faint rustling of the trees' leaves, and your own footfalls. The sun had yet to rise and it was still dark outside. As the fog began to slowly clear off, revealing the whitewashed fences and barn, the sounds of waking horses began to fill the air. The sun began to rise slowly over the horizon, reflecting off the dew on the grass in a faint glow. A few birds began to sing their songs, and the squirrels began to emerge from their hiding places to go gather more seeds. It was a typical morning in Pinewood West Virginia. All was perfect and pristine... no one could possibly ask for more than this.

Out of the stable the sound of heavy shod hooves clattered on the earth as a horse was lead from his stall. On his back was a racing exercise saddle, and a ring bit was secured between his jaws. Over his face was a white hood with blinkers to keep the horse's focus in front of him and not on what was going on around him. His long legs danced excitedly in a sort of sideways trot as his handler lead him towards the doors of the stable. From there it was a fairly long walk up to the old track, which had recently been "rediscovered" by the only two certified jockeys in Pinewood, Alex and Anthony Lovasz. The track was far less than upscale, and much of the outside rail had deteriorated with the weather and fallen down. Alex and Anthony had done some repairs on the old track, considering their twice daily use of it, but even so, it was definitely far from the high end tracks the black thoroughbred was used to running on.

When the pair reached the track the handler, Tristan Morgan, pulled himself nimbly up onto the tall horse's back, and set him at a walk for about 500 feet before letting him into a very high strung trot. The horse was fighting the hold on the reins, and was not pleased at all with being forced to remain at this slow pace. Because of his resistance to the hold, he was turned almost all the way sideways so that he was facing the inside rail, occasionally kicking up his heels in an irritated buck, just letting Tristan know how angry he was with the current situation. It was never much of a buck, he wasn't trying to unseat his rider, he was just throwing a temper tantrum in hopes of annoying Tristan into giving in and letting him out. Unfortunately for the horse, Tristan knew better than that. It would be just plain stupid to let a horse out before getting him properly warmed up.

About a quarter of the way around the track, he let him out just a little more into a long canter, sawing the bit back and forth in the horse's mouth to keep the animal in check and prevent him from getting the bit between his teeth and taking off before it was time. The horse was slightly more satisfied, but he was still begging for more rein, and any observer could tell from how tightly Tristan gripped the reins and the effort it was taking to hold him back. Finally, when they reached about 3/4 of the track, Tristan's grip started to relax slightly, and the horse's stride lengthened. Then he let go, and with a sudden surge, the black horse was catapulting down the track, picking up speed with every stride. Tristan kept the reins still held tightly in his hands, maintaining control over the horse's speed, but even so, the horse was getting faster and faster until he had practically become a blur on the track.

He flashed past the would be grandstands with impressive gusto and kept on going, eating up the track with eager strides. His finely shaped head bobbing to the fast stride, his ears pinned back flat on his head. A slight sweat was building on his coat as he continued at this tremendous pace, but he seemed unfazed by it, as if given the chance he would run forever. It was obvious that the horse was born to run. His long legs stretched with every step he took seeming to be attempting to break the record stride length. His finely streamlined body throwing everything into the sport, into his task. He was the picture of the perfect racehorse. Running was all he wanted to do. When he was let loose in the pasture he would run, when he was on the track he would run, when he managed to get loose he would run. Every opportunity he had to run he would take it, and boy would he ever run.

After a lap around the track, Tristan started gathering the horse again, but here was where a problem always arose. This horse didn't like to stop once he got going. He threw his head angrily and resisted the force attempting to stop him. Tristan continued tightening the reins, and the horse kept fighting, and kept running. He was big, and he was strong, and he was going to give Tristan hell before he gave in and slowed down. For about another half of the track the black stallion fought his rider and refused to give in. Tristan was tightening the reins more and more until finally the horse's chin was against his throat, and his mouth was opened as he fought the hold, but with his head in that position he couldn't keep running at such a furious pace, and he slowly started to give in to the command to slow. He was still fighting, but not as strongly now that his breathing was slightly restricted.

Bit by bit the horse slowed, and about the time they had made a second circle of the track Tristan had him down to a high strung walk, but he didn't let up on the tight grip on the reins. He knew if he did the horse would take off again. He was racehorse, and unfortunately his previous trainer had trained him only to run, and not listen to other commands... a definite downfall when it came to racing. It was Tristan's current job to teach him to stop when he was told to... which was a lot harder than it seemed. The animal had been given the non-stop running training for two years, and undoing two years of poor training was a difficult task. When he finally got the horse to stop, the animal's sides were heaving and his coat was soaked in sweat. Tristan was fairly breathless as well, and had his fair share of sweat streaking down his body.

I can see why they call you Kamikaze, He said breathlessly as he jumped off the horse and pulled the hood off of the horse's face so the sweat underneath could evaporate. The horse, full name Kamikaze Airplane, bobbed his head energetically, still full of energy and adrenaline. but even kamikaze airplanes were under control of their driver. He patted the sweaty horse's neck, attempting to catch his breath before leaving the track. He'd been so focused on getting the horse to stop that he really hadn't been paying any attention to what was going on around the track. He didn't really expect anyone else to be there, considering the only way people ever found out about the track was if they decided to follow Alex and Anthony's small but well worn trail that lead off of the wider main trail and happened upon the track. It wasn't a well known place anymore, and there was almost never anyone there to watch.[/center][/color][/size]

[Taryn Zell]

Gone Without You
can you keep up?

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Crunch. Boots against gravel. Slrp. Coffee being sucked between two peace-colored lips. Snft. Two large nostrils sucking in the familiar smell of the caffeinated drink. Taryn reached a soft hand to scratch the mare's forehead affectionately. She was a sure-fire win for almost any race she was placed in and continued to blow the spectators away as she racked up ribbons; even racing against well-know stallions. Nothing seemed to phase this horse when her hooves hit the well-trodden turf of a race track. Lately, though, she had been pushing herself to incredible speeds and with her owners afraid of her injuring herself they've put her back into a short-lived training period. It was only a week and half until her next race and the filly seemed to be storing up for the event; keeping her energy level in reign during the sessions. Of course it was unlike her to hold back in any situation but that was what they were working on that day. Tossing the coffee away she dusted the horse's short coat with a quick groom before sliding on the light-weight tack. Without didn't race with blinders and threw a horse-fit when ever they were put on her.

Stuffing her long red curls under a helmet and slipping into a protective vest, though she trusted the mare immensely, she led the creature out towards the track. It had been recently "re-found" and the constant using of it was doing good because it was finally looking like a race track again. On the way to the track she passed another rider and paused, a surprised look crossing her features.

Behind the trainer an exhausted horse followed, his body heaving with exertion from the run but his eyes alight. Gone Without You flicked her head up in prospect of challenge but was quickly rebuked. She had gotten her name because of her habits in gate training. While still young she would take a bounding leap out of the gate, almost constantly unseating her rider. Though the leap placed her in the lead, something she would hold for the rest of the race, there was no point in a racehorse with out a rider. Taryn tightened her grip around the horse's reigns as it pranced in place. Blue optics traveled the length of both horse and rider, not surprised to see them both a bit sweaty. Behind her eyes her mind flickered as she placed a name to the stallion. "Kamikaze Airplane." Her small head nodded as she gave the horse a once-over. He was a non-stop runner, trained to go and never stop until he was pushed past his limit. Either way he was amazing on the track from what she had seen so far.

The girl hadn't caught much of the spectacle at all but could piece two and two together. Kamikaze was a hard-headed horse and this boy was his trainer. Suddenly the silence that passed between them registered and she gaze a bright smile. "I'm Taryn." Bright eyes turned back to the antsy mare, running a hand over the albino coat. An idea formed slowly in her head, hesitant under the current situation but knowing it's results could fare for the best. "Do you mind watching her run? She's been keeping slow lately and I haven't gotten a chance to ask any one to check out her stride lately." Without attempted to throw her head as her back legs swung repeatedly to the side. She wanted to run. They both did. Hesitantly she began to lead the mare away, keeping clear of her prancing feet. "I'll be on the track..." Vocals called softly over her shoulder. As the mare pranced she stuck her foot in the stirrup, lifting herself easily onto the lightweight saddle.

Without reacted immediately, her pace calming and body moving in an elegant walk as they paced onto the track's turf. The pace was so perfect that she could have fallen asleep but there was still something wrong; she wasn't pulling like most race horses do. Like she used to do. The rider shifted her weight, trying to find a fault in the horse's gait but finding nothing relatively close to a flaw. Half way around the track she urged the mare into a slow trot. It was strange to use urging for a horse like her but she didn't think much of it right now. Tunnel vision kept her gaze focused on the target ahead, the long stretch of thoroughly worn dirt, and she didn't realize whether or not the boy had actually joined her.

Kamikaze had left a decent impact on the turf, dents and furrows where his feet pushed off the ground at a furious pace, and Without was steered to the inside rail in order to avoid any potential danger. There were scattered stories of race horse's occasionally losing footing in the indents left by their opponents, and she couldn't think of one that ended one a happy note. The white beast beneath her was too dear to risk such a thing with. Slowly she pulled against the reigns and frowning when the horse obeyed completely. It was an stupid thing to say that she didn't want an obedient horse but to have a little more of her old horse back would have been great. Taryn turned her body to gaze back towards the entrance to the track, searching to see if the other rider had been watching and if he had anything to say.

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[torres]

After that run, Tristan was fairly exhausted... which for him was a good thing. Because Tristan was such a high energy guy and extremely ADD, when he had energy he couldn't force himself to keep his mind on the same subject for more than five minutes at a time unless he was putting all that energy into one specific task. He was terrible at multi tasking for that reason. He could hardly do one thing at a time, and asking someone like him to do two things at one time was just way too much. Alex and Anthony had figured that one out the hard way. A lot of people just said they had ADD because they were easily distracted, but it was never really diagnosed. Tristan... he had been diagnosed, and doctors had tried everything the could to treat the disorder, but it was so severe with him that they all just gave up. The only time he was ever free of the inability to focus was when he was riding.

His exhaustion was made even more evident as he pulled his helmet off his head, revealing his sweat soaked hair. He had already ridden Puzzle earlier, and although Puzzle was more willing to stop than Kaze he was still a lot of work, so riding both the horses drained him fairly well. Unfortunately, not only was he ADD but also ADHD and because of that his energy level never stayed low or even normal for more than a half hour before he felt like he'd just had 12 energy drinks one right after the other. At times he really thought he was insane, and a lot of people shared that sentiment.

When Tristan and Kaze's path brought them into view of another horse and rider, Tristan was a bit surprised, most people didn't know about the track, and he'd never really seen anyone besides Anthony and Alex out here. Of course, he'd also been "daydreaming" and paying absolutely no attention to anything so that aided in the surprise factor. He was also surprised when the girl said Kaze's name... very few people knew the colt. He'd only run in two races at the end of his two year old season, the first ending in a rather dismal third, and the second resulting in a win, but only in a claiming race where Tristan got him. He had impressive speed, and Tristan was fairly sure if he gave him his head he'd blow the speed record out of the water, but at this point in his training it just wouldn't be safe.

He was about to say something when the girl introduced herself as Taryn, then asked if he'd watch them, and announced she'd be on the track. Tristan really wasn't too sure if she'd said it all in as quick succession as he'd heard it, and odds were she hadn't. When he wasn't paying attention it always seemed like people were talking faster than they were, and he couldn't formulate answers in his head fast enough to say anything in response. He was so absent minded... it was bound to get him into some big trouble some day... it was a miracle that it hadn't yet.

He thought about her request for a second, then figured there couldn't be any harm in doing it, so he turned and headed back over to the rail. Seeing another horse on the track, Kaze started getting excited, thinking there was going to be a race, and was quite clearly disappointed when Tristan looped the end of the lead line around the rail and secured it there, forcing the horse to stand still and deal with not running. That was why Tristan loved racehorses so much... they were just like him. Way more energy than was good for them except when they were using it up on the track. It was like he was just made to be a jockey, and he would never consider a different career.

He was, of course, having a hard time keeping his attention on the other horse and rider, but he was doing an okay job...much better than he normally would. From what he could see, it looked like the mare was bored. He'd seen her excitement when she saw Kaze, and he knew what that meant. Racehorses didn't like racing the clock... they didn't want to just run alone all the time. What she needed was another horse to challenge her, to make her want to run, and to fight for the lead. He'd seen a lot of horses like that. Competition was the best thing for a racehorse most of the time, which was why so many had training partners that they could "race."

Of course, his opinion could easily change once they really started going... if they did, but at that point it looked like the filly was just bored. Horses like Kaze only knew running and would always run no matter what, but most racehorses preferred to actually race another horse instead of just plain old running day in and day out. He would have offered to see if having another horse on the track would help, but not with Kaze. Puzzle would be a much better match for this sort of thing considering the older horse was easier to control than the black colt... he'd have to try to remember that. Most of the time he couldn't remember things for more than five minutes. ADD and ADHD were both kind of curses to him, but at the same time it made him interesting and unique. Sure, he might be a little crazy, but who isn't these days?

[Sara Lexington]

Sara led Fire Arrow, her high-strung Arabian stallion, to the track, hoping this would burn some of his energy off. Arrow tossed his head. "Alright, boy. Alright." She said, raising the stirrups to jockey height. "Hey, I would be glad to lend a hand. Arrow just might be a great opponent for that filly out there." She called to the boy who was standing beside a black colt. Sara hoisted herself into the saddle. Wow. This feels weird. She said to herself as she gathered the reins. She walked the Arabian onto the track.

It was about a minute later that the stallion caught up to the filly. "Hey, I'm Sara Lexington. Everyone calls me Sara though. I could help out if your filly's bored with racing against the clock and needs another horse to race against. Fire Arrow also needs the exercise." She offered gladly, hoping the girl would accept the offer. Arrow pranced beside the albino filly, wanting to run. Sara held him back. "Arrow! Be nice! You'll have to wait." Sara hissed lightly to the stallion.

Arrow's firey red chestnut coat gleamed in the early sunlight. His white blaze and stockings reflecting the early rays of sunlight, making them look dazling as the sun reflected off of them. As the stallion danced, he tossed his head up. Sara found holding the stallion back was getting hard. "Hang on a sec. I'm gonna burn some of Arrow's energy off." Sara said, letting the reins slip through her fingers. Arrow nickered happily and bolted into a steady canter.

After completing half a lap, Sara pulled the high-strung Arabian stallion up beside the filly. "So, how about it?" Sara asked, hoping the girl's answer would be yes. Arrow's head was thrown up again, this time, angry with being held back.