Polo and Dreameh's VERY short RP. For real this time. (Mature)

Character:

Name: Sloan Terse
Age: 21
Appearance: .Link Black hair, blue eyes, stubble. He used to have an emo look, but had to cut his hair when he got a job.
Other: Owns a 9-year-old, black Thoroughbred mare named Poison Dart. She's long and lanky, standing at 16,3hh.

Dude, I never knew youcould do THAT short!!! I'm so proud of you :')

Name: Dane Smithson
Age: 19
Appearance: Usually wears casual stable-hand clothes, even when not at the stables. Includes navy yard boots, light grey V-neck t-shirt - sometimes covered by a dark blue body-warmer - and black jodphurs along with a pair of torn, ratty red gloves for mucking out. His hair is cropped shot, with a clipped pattern on the right side of his head. He also has a small, scorpion tattoo between his shoulder blades, but this is generally covered up by his clothes. He has quite a square jaw and has a well toned- but not excessively so - figure. He has chocolate brown eyes and light, olive skin.
Other: Owns a 17.1 hh chestnut roan hunter called Archer (aka Archie) who he has owned for 4 years. Archie has 1 white sock on his hind leg and a wonky, speckled stripe down his long, thick nose.
Dane works at the stables full time to pay off his loan for Archie, but does occasionally get paid when a horse he has trained wins prize money, along with a small, weekly wage.

((I reallllllllly need to practice this... :3 You start?))

Sloan swept the body brush furiously over his mare’s already glowing coat. His cheeks were flushed red with what might have been humiliation or fury, but in the end it amounted to the same thing.
The yard owned had just shouted abuse at him for the third time that week – in public. It wasn’t that it wasn’t without reason. After all, Sloan had just made one of his pupils cry for the fifth time tjay week, but the fact remained that it was utterly humiliating to be treated that way, and he had his dignity. But he needed his job, so he didn’t dare piss off the owner… As for the kids, the ones that were worth his while always came back. Screw the others.
He sighed heavily, and gave Dart a brief pat – then stepped out of the stable and stormed angrily to the tack room to put away his grooming kit.

Dane watched the frisky Anglo-arab stallion prance around the lunge arena, having nothing but a riding crop and a long lunge rein loosely held in his hand. He could tell just by the look of the thing that it was going to be a handful. It wore no tack, nothing to restrain it from moving freely, yet it pushed his boundaries. Still, his boss had already said she wanted him to eventually be used for breeding, once he had the skills of a good eventer. But with the father of a racehorse and the mother of a family pet, the odds weren't on it's side.
Tapping the crop loudly against his thigh, he glared at the stallion, willing for it to canter. But the animal danced in circles, swinging it's head daringly up in the air. Twice the cheeky bastard had tried to kick him for approaching it. Twice!
So he sat back and watched with narrowed, beady eyes at the animal before him. This was going to take a while.

((I know zilch about lunging, by the way. He's not meant to be lunging anyway, but... Yeah. :3 Ignore my incorrectness ))

Sloan slammed his grooming kit down in the tack room, and stormed out into the yard. It was evening, so most of the people had left already - not that he knew any of them. He'd only been there a week...
Only a week, and I'm off to a bad start...
He sighed, and glanced over the yard again. A frisky chestnut was cavorting around the lunge arena.
Thinking somebody had forgotten the horse there, Sloan frowned and approached. But as he drew nearer he saw a man- boy? It was hard to tell from a distance…
Either way, the person seemed to be attempting to lunge the horse. All Sloan could say was that if he was attempting to lunge, he was doing it wrong.
He watched silently from the arena fence for a while, as the stallion squealed and aimed another kick at its handler.
Sloan laughed cruelly. “Havin’ fun there?” He asked sarcastically.

Dane's gaze didn't leave the stallion. He raised the crop in the air and in one swift movement slammed it down onto his boot, listening to the cracking sound it created asthesmall loop of leather hit the fabric on his shoe. The stallion's ear flicked towards him and jumped slightly, but if anything, thedamn thing got slower.
Monty Roberts made it look so damn easy!
Then again, Monty Roberts didn't use a whip.
Dane wondered how he managed this, because it took a whip to get the thing to even trot - or what might have counted as a trot. Maybe more of a bouncy walk...
Grumblign to himself, he rolled his eyes. "Do I look that enthusiastic?" He said flatly, taking a step towards the stallion. It stopped dead in it's tracks, flattened it's ears and swung it's rumpround threateningly. "What the hell?" Dane mumbled, stepping away from the attack. For a thoroughbred cross, this thing wasn't particularly fast.
"I'm just trying to see how he moves. They want a jumper, but I'm not sure he has the back spring for it. May be different when I'm on him. But he won't go any faster than this..." He growled frustratedly, stepping away from the stallion, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He'd been working all day. And this wasn't making it any easier...

“He won’t jump.” Sloan responded, casting an expert eye over the horse. “Look at that shoulder – straight as a bloody ruler. He won’t be able to get his legs up.” Sloan sighed, and shook his head.
“Y’know, if you’re trying to see his movement, you’re going about it the wrong way.” He shook his head condescendingly, but didn’t offer any helpful advice. He wasn’t there to help – he was there to criticize. ‘Helping’ was something he did when he got paid.
“So you work here?” He asked, deciding to ignore the man’s predicament, and hoisting himself up to sit on the fence of the lunge arena.
He could be going home, but what was the point? His girlfriend had been arguing with him since last night, and he knew she was planning to break up with him. He’d got a text saying ‘we need to talk’. Truth be told, he didn’t much feel like talking. He didn’t care that she was breaking up with him – he’d never really liked her anyway – but ‘talking’ was just so… Troublesome.

"Thanks for the advice. But you try telling the owner that, eh? You'll be lucky to leave her office alive."
Shaking his head in defeat he hooked the lunge rein over his shoulder and scratched the back of his ear with the handle of the riding crop.
"Yeah. Four years. Head trainer."
Funny, the way he said it, so frankly, made him sound important. What he didn't say was that he was, in fact, the only trainer at the yard.
Sighing, he waved the stallion off with a flick of his hand and turned his back carelessly, leaving it to slow to a walk and plot around the arena, sniffing the sand curiously. Cheeky sod. He was perfectly content when Dane wasn't looking at him. Then when he so much as got between five feet of the stallion, it tried to kick him. But now it was amusing itself happily without a care in the world.
"You the new guy?" Dane raised an eyebrow, peering at the male curiously. He didn't recognise himat all, but he'd heard about him. "That made that girl on the shetland cry?"
He shook his head, not waiting for an answer and leant by the wall beside the gate where the male was sat, watching the stallion tiredly. Oh well, he'd just have to try again tomorrow.

Sloan nodded in acceptance, considering what the man had said. Head trainer for four years? Funny, he didn’t look a day over 20. Younger, even. He’d bet there was some story behind that – but he didn’t care to figure it out.
"You the new guy? That made that girl on the shetland cry?"
Sloan huffed at this, and glanced pompously away.
“A sack of potatoes cannot cry.” He retorted crisply, “It shouldn’t have been allowed on that poor animal’s back in the first place.”
He clenched his jaw, eyes darting lazily over the other man’s face as he waited to see how he’d respond.
It wasn’t that he was trying to make enemies… He just wasn’t trying very hard to make friends – and the way the ratio sat, he had precious few of the latter. It would be interesting to see if this man could handle his abrasive personality.

Again, Dane didn't look at the man as he spoke, but he didn't need to. The tiny, one-sided smirk playing on his lips said it all. He was amused by the newbie's comment alongside the obvious irritation the pupil had caused him, but he was even more amused at the fact that the guy would probably end up being hanged, drawn and quartered in the next week. Scaring littlies on bored, half dead ponies won't get him a good job if he doesn't have the heart.
"Nice to know you care about the horses, though."
Despite the surprisingly warm comment, Dane's eyes twinkled sarcastically. He watched the stallion for a few more seconds, wondering vaguely how he planned on getting the thing back to it's stable but simply shrugged it off, crossing his arms over his broad chest.
"Maybe if you survive long enough you can give me a few pointers, if you're as good as they say." He turned to the man, narrowing his eye daringly. "I'd like to see you try and make me cry, mate."
He offered his hand openly, his lips playing a smirk. "I'm Dane. Like the dog."

((Fail. XD Haha!
Feel free to skip to the next day. I was going to, but then... *Coughs* Yeah, this short post thing is HARD! XD ))

"Nice to know you care about the horses, though." Sloan snorted at this, catching the sarcastic tone to Dane’s voice. It was true – he cared about the horses, if nothing else.
He raised an eyebrow at Dane’s next comment. So they said he was ‘good’, huh? Funny – all he’d heard was arrogant, insolent, heartless son-of-a-bitch – and various other things along those lines.
Not that he was discontent with that description of himself – it was somewhat accurate. Still, it was surprising to hear that his reputation had survived his attitude. A good CV counted for something, after all.
“Dane, huh…?” He murmured softly, “How unfortunate for you.” He took the man’s proffered hand, and shook it firmly.
“I’m Sloan. And buddy, I could make Satan cry.” He flashed a wink, then dropped Dane’s hand as his phone rang.
“And speaking of Satan…” He lifted it to his ear and flipped it open, turning away from Dane, and raising his hand in a backwards wave as he walked back toward his battered Jeep. Cheryl’s voice babbled loudly in his ear, but he had no interest in listening, so he told her he’d be home soon, and hung up.

((I will, no worries. XD And I totally agree, it's actually getting harder the more we go on ))

Unfortunate, huh?
Dane grumbled uner his breath, silently cursing his father for obsessing so much over the name. The crap he'd got in school... Seriously. And now this asshole had even started. But there was something about this guy, about his confidence, that Dane liked. It was the sort of recklessness that they both knew would eventually get him fired, but the guy didn't seem to care. Dane wished he had that sort of confidence, but he knew that wouldn't house Archer or keep either of them fed.
"I’m Sloan. And buddy, I could make Satan cry."
Sloan. Weird name. Even weirder than Dane.
But still, was that whole Satan thing meant to be a challenge?
Dane watched him with vague interest as Sloan dawdled away in the direction of the gravelly car park, someone with a very angry voice barking things in his ear. Girlfriend? Sister? Mum? He didn't really care.
Turning back to to the young stallion, Dane slipped his hand in his pocket, pulling out some carrot sticks...

((Dun dun DUNNNNNNN!! ))

The next morning...
Dane arrived at 7AM, rubbing his tired eyes wearily as he strolled into the quiet stables. He was always the first one there. Always. No one else came for at least another hour and a half.
Dane dumped his backpack on the mounting block and walked around the front of the stables to a small field on a hill, where Archie was busily grazing. He lifted his head at the sound of Dane's footsteps, snorted uninterestingly and continued grazing. Dane rolled his eyes and wandered into the field, closing the gate behind him. Once he reached the gelding, he stared tiredly at him for a moment, yawned, shrugged then sat soundlessly on the grass, enjoying the view of the world below. Archie appeared beside him and stretched his front legs like a dog, then laid on his stomach beside his owner, still nibbling at a tuffet of grass. Grunting, Dane shuffled beside him, leant back and rested his head on the chestnut's large stomach. He slanted his cap over his face, closed his eyes and rested, listening to the sounds of dawn.

((Don't kill me. It had to be done. ))

((BAD Dreameh! But thank you. XD
Fudge crackers, this is hard...
Oh, and I have to tell you - earlier today I was watching Scrubs... And they mentioned playing CRAPS! I thought of you, and nearly died from laughter. ))

The next morning, Sloan arrived at work looking even grumpier than usual. He’d had a rough night, and after hitting the bars to get Cheryl’s angry voice out of his ears, he was thoroughly hungover.
He caught a glimpse of Dane in the paddock with his horse on the way to the stables, but he didn’t stop to greet him. Instead, he headed straight to Dart’s stable, and clipped a lead rope to the feisty mare’s halter.
It was interesting to note that since Sloan had arrived at the stables, he had not ridden Dart. In fact, he had not ridden at all… But all the same, the mare needed exercise – so Sloan led her to the lunge arena, keeping a firm grip on her lead rein as she pranced excitedly beside him.
Once he had closed the arena, he turned her loose and clucked to her, and Dart exploded away from him in a series of bucks.
It took several laps of the arena for the mare to settle, but when she did, she stretched her neck down and showed the exquisite floating movement which had once made her a formidable competitor in the dressage ring.

((LOL! XD Awesome times, seriously. I totally want to learn that now, just to say I know how to play it ))

Dane didn't hear Sloan arrive, but seconds before he felt himself drift off the gelding's large head shot up, causing his body to rock slightly. Dane ignored this, but then he felt the large stomach beneath him vibrate as Archie left out a loud, ear-piercing whinny and shook Dane off him, leaing to his feet.
"What the f*ck, Arch." Dane grumbled groggily, lifting off his cap and pushing it onto his head, twisting it backwards so he could see what Archie was looking at. He saw nothing, but he had a fairly good idea.
Mares.
"Control your urges, mate. You're balls don't work any more."
But Archie ignored him and trotted over to the gate, swishing his tail.
"Archie."
Dane called, picking up the headcollar and wandering over, unbuckling the headpiece before slinging the lead rope aroundthe chestnut's thick neck. The gelding paid no attention to him as he slipped on the head collar and opened the gate. Then, with an excitable snort, trotted forward.
"Oy! Idiot, slow down!" Dane yanked back on the leadrope, but ended up having to jog to keep up. Archie didn't stop until he's reached the yard and began walking meaningfully towards the lunge arena, ears pricked forward as if on a mission.
Oh, so that's who he was after.
Dane sighed in annoyance and simply let the gelding walk. For a social reject, that horse seemed extremely interested in that mare, for some reason.
"Morning sunshine." Dane chuckled croakily as they both appeared beside the gate of the lunging arena. He studied Sloan for a moment with little interest, then added frankly. "You look like crap."

((I think it's some sort of gambling game. ))

Sloan was so focused on Dart that she noticed the new arrivals before he did – and though he could see the mare trying to maintain concentration, the gelding was clearly distracting her, so he whistled to slow her, and left her to her own devices as he walked over to Dane with a furious glare.
“Shut the Hell up, would you?”
His words came out more like a plaintive moan than the harsh demand he’d intended.
He huffed a sigh of annoyance, and stroked the chestnut’s nose absentmindedly as he gazed longingly after Dart -–who was playing hard to get, as usual, but flicking her tail about in an obviously flirtatious fashion. She was such a tease…
“Got any asprin on you?” Sloan grunted at last, swallowing his pride and glancing back at Dane. “My head is f*cking exploding, man – and I won’t be held responsible for throttling the first snot-nosed brat who shrieks at me today.”
Dart wandered over to him, then, peeking shyly over Sloan’s shoulder at the gelding. He gave her a good-natured slap on the chest, and raised an eyebrow expectantly at Dane.

((No worries, I'll just fake my age, because I totally look 18 ))

Dane raised an eyebrow at Sloans greeting, but decided not to take it to heart. The guy must have been off his head the night before, judging by the screwed up look on his face. But he was still walking, and was close to sane, so he didn't really take much notice.
"No asperin. Got some paracetamol, though." He slipped his hand in his back pocket and tossed the foil tray of pills over to Sloan.
"Get yourself some water, before you kill someone. Preferably not a little kid." Dane raised his eyebrows teasingly, then slung an arm over a curious Archie like they were best buds. In a way, they were.
But Archie paid no attention to him. Instead, he reached his nose over the gate towards the mare, stretching it out as far as he could go, his top lip twitching outwards, but the mare was just out of reach.
"You deprived sod." Dane scratched his withers, shaking his head in amusement. "He's not been this sociable since he literally go his ass kicked by one of the riding ponies."
He turned back to the dark mare, enviously more elegant-looking and sleek compared to the chunky, hunter-like Archie, and nodded towards her. "Who's that then?"

Sloan caught the pills Dane tossed him, ripped one out of the foil, and swallowed it dry. Obviously, he’d had plenty of practice popping pain pills.
He handed the tray back to Dane with a murmured word of thanks, then directed his attention to the gelding.
“He’s a nice horse. And I don’t blame him for being scared of those school ponies – they’re bloody demons.” He commented, playfully pinching the gelding’s outstretched lip, then stepping forward to scratch him behind the ear.
Dart followed, and he stepped to the side in anticipation of what he knew was coming.
Sure enough, the moment the gelding’s muzzle touched hers, Dart squealed like an excited filly, and lashed out with a slender foreleg.
“Little flirt.” Sloan laughed, slapping his mare’s shoulder. “This is Dart. Got her off the track when I was in America. I should have sold her there, but…” He smiled, and smooched at the mare, who obediently lipped his cheek, ignoring the gelding again. “I just didn’t have the heart.” He finished with a laugh.

Archie's large head jumped out fo the way of the mare's hind leg, watching her with a baffled expression. He stood there with one ear forward, the other aimed elsewhere and swished his tail. Evidently, he had no idea what he'd done wrong.
"Ah, so she's an ex racehorse, I should have noticed. She must be a handful." Dane commented, letting his arm slip off Archie's neck as he admired the mare fondly. She had the sort of personality of many of the youngsters he was told to break in all the time, but Sloan seemed to be able to handle her well.
"Dart. very fitting."
Yes, she had the spring and no doubt the speed of one, too. Compared to Archie's long strided, bouncy, plodding pace he always used in whichever gait.

“She’s hot,” Sloan agreed, “But she was always an honest, willing ride.” He scratched her neck, and Dart leaned into his touch, sighing deeply and letting her eyelids droop. She clearly loved her owner – even if Sloan no longer rode her…
“So what about your boy? What’s his story?” He asked, clipping the lead rein back onto Dart’s halter, and opening the gate to let her out.
“Looks like he’d event.” He added, pausing with the prancing Dart in hand to cast a critical eye over the gelding.

"Bet she is." Dane agreed, raising his eyebrows admiringly. He stepped away and slipped Archie's lead rope off his neck - out of mere habit he rarely had to use it anymore, since Archie usually followed him like a lost puppy. But Dart was obviously some sort of exception.
"Archie's done a couple of shows. Don't get me wrong, he's got some skills and a decent jump, but I don't really have the time to show him right now. Too much going on."
Dane jerked a thumb behind him to where the new stallion was munching absentmindedly away at his almost-empty haynet across the yard.
Dane glanced up at Archie for a moment, his eyes warming slightly. "My dad got him, just before he..." He cleared his throat awkwardly, lowering his voice slightly. "Before he passed. He had a drink problem, you see. Needed looking after. He'd always wanted a horse, and I guess he must havebeen out of it. Mum had abandoned us ages ago, so she really didn't care. We were pretty lucky, really. He'd already been fairly well schooled, ridden by a range of experienced and novice riders, so he wasn't hard to get used to. When dad passed away I didn't have the money to house him so... I said I'd work here."
He shrugged like it didn't bother him, but the forced smile on his thin lips couldn't hide the sadness for long.
"But enough of that." Dane cleared his throat once more, turning Archie away towards his stable. "I'd better get the quad and round the school ponies from the moor." He turned his head, slightly back towards Sloan. "Wanna come? I could use a hand."

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Sloan murmured robotically, and though he put little feeling into what he said, at least it was clear he meant it, and he even managed a somber expression.
He couldn’t empathize, exactly. He’d never lost a parent – but he had lost somebody close to him recently – and that was why he knew not to dwell on the topic.
“I’d help you out, mate.” He offered, following Daniel’s change of tact as though the previous moment had never happened, “But I’m just not big on spooning another guy on the back of a quad…” ((Really, Sloan? Really?
“Now if there’s another quad, or a dirtbike, say – maybe I could help you out.”
He glanced up toward the distant herd of school ponies, and huffed a heavy sigh.
“Can’t we just get a bag of molasses and a giant fan?”
He was only half joking.
Sloan stroked Dart’s sleek neck, then clicked the mare forward, nodding for Dane to walk with him back toward the stables. He had to be done with these ponies before his first lessons started.

"Yeah..." Dane murmured, oddly finding his lips witching a tiny smile. "Don't lie." He knew the gyy didn't really care, even if he was pityful. He was some pretty aweful liar, put nicely.
Still, thoughtful of him to try.
"And that was not what I was implying." He frowned suddenly, wondering whether the guy was actually serious or not. What was so wrong with two guys sharing a quad?
"Never mind. Yeah, there's Claire's quad under the shelter by the hay bales. Let's see if you have the balls to handle the off-roads, Dane-style."
His face lit up once more, flashing a daring wink as he unclipped Archie's headcollar and let him plod into his stable, closing the door behind him. He wandered over to the tack room and grabbed a handful of headcollars and hooked it on the back of his own quad, mounted, and turned on the engine.
"You coming, sunshine?" He challenged, turning back to Sloan with a crooked smile.

Sloan had put Dart away, and emerged back into the bright sunshine outside the stables with a wince and a yawn by the time Dane's voice cut through his thoughts. He grumbled mutinously, but swung himself onto the quad all the same, turning the keys in the ignition.
"Okay." He said at last, lifting his head and meeting Dane's smile with a raised eyebrow.
"Let's do it, then."
And with that, he put his foot down and shot off, moving with the quad, and accelerating smoothly over the rough ground in a way that showed he had done this plenty of times before.
"Keep up, slowpoke!" He jeered, glancing back over his shoulder, and letting his speed slacken slightly, "This is your job. Show me how it's done so I can kick your ass at it, already!"
He flashed a devious grin - which was a rare expression on his usually glum face. Sloan clearly had a competitive nature, though, and it showed clearly now.

Dane released the lever for the engine quickly in surprise as Sloan's vehicle raced in front of him. "Oy!" He shouted, trying to sound annoyed, but he was betrayed by the loud that excaped his lips.
He'd missed human company, sspecially male company. He didn't get much of it at all nowadays. Not since he'd left school, anyway. More than anything, he'd missed the rush of breaking the rules for the hell of it. This made the sile on his lips stretch wider than it had been for a long time.
He shot forward after Sloan, speeding throught the open, silver gate and stood up off his seat, leaning forward coolly as he reached the hilly terrain. The thick tires jumped as they met several and he found himself get sprayed several times by soft, black mud. But this didn't bother him.
He finally reached Sloan's side and, keeping hiseyes fixated on the route before him, shouted, "Is that a threat or a promise?"
They were head to head, now, but the race hadn't even started yet...
"A'ight, to those double gates just outside the moor. You lose, you give me a riding lesson on a horse of my choice."

((Okay, sorry, but more words were needed for that post... ))

“That’s up to you, Mate.” Sloan shot back, revving his quad’s engine threateningly to keep is lead as Dane roared up behind him.
Still, he pulled up beside him, and Sloan glanced at Dane just long enough to raise an eyebrow at his little ‘wager’.
“Fair ‘nough.” He replied with a laugh, “But just so you know, I’m a f**king bad loser!”
With a bark of laughter, he revved the quad on faster, and it skidded away through the mud – sliding from side to side with a precarious wobble as the wheels slipped.
Reckless as ever, Sloan didn’t seem to care.
As they were nearing the end of their little ‘race’ – Sloan spun the quad in a tight turn toward the gates – but just as the wheels turned, they hit a slippery patch of mud, and the quad tipped – spilling Sloan violently off to the side at a blistering pace.
He managed to break his fall with his hand, but the momentum still flung him over, so he ended up sitting in the mud – a bemused expression on his face – one leg bent, and the other stretched out in front of him – looking slightly odd.
“Well, that went well…” He laughed sarcastically, glancing over his grazed, muddy hands with an amused smirk. “Toss me my leg, would you?” He added, nodding toward a prosthetic limb lying on the ground a few meters from him.
He was missing the lower half of his left leg. It was obvious, now, with the bottom of his pant leg limp and empty.

Prosthetic Leg