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 fire a gun, #simon
fifteen
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rachel
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52 posts
833 points
gonna need an anchor, someone to call me home; gonna need somebody to leave the porch light on
all we need is somebody to lean on
when she stepped into the lounge in search of simon flynn, she was pleased, or triumphant, or somewhere in between, to find him alone. someone else, someone more subtle, would have taken a moment before opening her mouth, perhaps gotten something to drink out of the fridge and taken a seat and said hello before getting to the point.

but calla seraphine taylor had never been very subtle.

and so she stepped up right in front of the man, crossing her arms in front of her and narrowing her eyes down at him where he sat. "when are you gonna start coaching again?" it came out more like a sentence than a question, and then she barrelled forward. "i have a show coming up, my first show since, like, june. and i could use a dressage coach who actually knows what he's doing."

tagged for simon flynn
post made Nov 10 2016, 06:34 PM
twenty eight
male
he/him/his
homosexual
Olympian
lux
Offline
29 posts
35 points
party girls don't get hurt, can't feel anything, when will I learn, I push it down, push it down
tagged for CALLA TAYLOR


for all of the light that i shut out, for all of the innocent things that i doubt, for all of the bruises i've caused and the tears, for all of the things that i've done all these years, for all of the sparks that i've stomped out, for all of the perfect things that i doubt ,i'll be good, i'll be good, and i'll love the world like i should, i'll be good, i'll be good, for all of the times i never could
grace is just weakness
He'd managed to start making more frequent visits to the barn, though he had yet to really get back in the saddle more than once every week or two. Usually he just hung around, trying to get up the will and get past the nervous, cold sweats. Today was destined to be one of those days, he figured - at least, until his peace and solitude was interrupted by none other than Calla; the girl who seemed to believe she was the center of the universe (or at the very least acted like it). Before, he'd appreciated her willfulness.

Now? It was just plain annoying.

He sighed and leaned further back in his chair, tempted to just ignore her, see what she did. Except she was already standing there, glaring down at him, and her glaring down was something so much harder to ignore. Normally she had to look up (he wasn't exactly short, and she wasn't exactly tall for her age). It made it much easier to say no to her, he determined. He pursed his lips a moment, eyes narrowing. Perhaps he could kill two birds with one stone.

...Fine. But you're riding Tempo. Bout time you learned what real dressage is.

He paused a moment, but reluctantly raised to his feet, spine straight and shoulders back only from years of experience, an inability to hunch now. He swept over to the fridge first, rummaging in the back for a beer with a twist off cap. He took a sip, since he'd be here a while longer than expected now.

...Oh. And if you ruin my Olympic horse, you won't live long enough to regret it. Now run along and get him.

post made Nov 12 2016, 09:51 PM
fifteen
female
she/her
heterosexual
National
rachel
Offline
52 posts
833 points
gonna need an anchor, someone to call me home; gonna need somebody to leave the porch light on
all we need is somebody to lean on
simon sighed, leaned back in his seat, letting out a low sigh in a whoosh of air from between his lips, and looked at her as if deep in thought. he had a way of covering up whatever hints sparkled in peoples' eyes normally, making it hard to tell what, exactly, he was thinking. but, finally, he spoke: "fine." then, before calla could do anything further than register his reluctant agreement, he added, "but you're riding tempo. 'bout time you learned what real dressage is."

she took a moment to really hear this, and then smiled bright. "okay," she agreed. tempo was a beautiful horse, had a quality of movement that she thought would feel like a dream to ride; it didn't matter that she and stitch needed to prepare for that show. stitch knew what he was doing, it came to him naturally. she could practice with him on her own time, without a trainer at all. she could learn more from the brilliant combination of simon flynn and his horse.

the man stood, towering over her at his regular height, and crossed to the fridge, where he retrieved a beer. calla didn't think too hard about it. if he was going to let her ride tempo, he could do whatever the hell he wanted, as far as she was concerned. taking a sip of his drink, simon surveyed her and added, almost as an afterthought, "oh. and if you ruin my olympic horse, you won't live long enough to regret it." a pause, in which she nodded and tried not to look too terrifyingly wide-eyed, and then he added, "now run along and get him."

"oh. okay." calla turned automatically on her heel, brushing out of the lounge and down the stairs in search of simon's horse.

he hadn't been ridden enough recently, seemed a little reluctant to step outside of the safe cocooned world of his stall but perked up once he was clear of its door. in nearly record time, she was leading him into the arena, half-excited and half-terrified now that she was so close to mounting this horse, of all horses, in front of this dressage rider, of all dressage riders.

tagged for simon flynn
post made Nov 29 2016, 02:11 AM
twenty eight
male
he/him/his
homosexual
Olympian
lux
Offline
29 posts
35 points
party girls don't get hurt, can't feel anything, when will I learn, I push it down, push it down
tagged for CALLA TAYLOR


for all of the light that i shut out, for all of the innocent things that i doubt, for all of the bruises i've caused and the tears, for all of the things that i've done all these years, for all of the sparks that i've stomped out, for all of the perfect things that i doubt ,i'll be good, i'll be good, and i'll love the world like i should, i'll be good, i'll be good, for all of the times i never could
grace is just weakness
Her excitement, despite his reluctance, did bring a small smile to his lips. It was faint and barely there, lasting all of a split second before it vanished again. She reminded him of himself, once upon a time. He could only hope she'd keep that youthful enthusiasm; he most certainly hadn't.

He was given the opportunity to finish his beer and grab another by the time he heard the clattering of horseshoes on the ground in the aisle. That would be Tempo. He sighed, then pushed off the counter he was leaning against, heading for the barn and, then, the arena after. She hadn't quite gotten on yet by the time he made it there and he hesitated at the sight of his horse. Tempo recognized him, flicked an ear to him and shuffled his hooves impatiently. Simon's eyes instead fell to the ground, unable to bear that all-knowing gaze.

When you get on, you start with reins to the buckle. He likes to stretch out first, or he gets stiff later.

He cleared his throat a little as he spoke, the knowledge of his stallion slipping through without a second thought. He'd trained this horse from the ground up. He knew each quirk, each special trait that made him uniquely Tempo and not any other creature. He glanced over, found a place to settle so that he wasn't stuck standing the whole time, and set his half-empty beer can down on the ground next to him.

Give him two laps each direction. Change rein across the long diagonal. He likes his habits.

post made Dec 7 2016, 01:23 AM
fifteen
female
she/her
heterosexual
National
rachel
Offline
52 posts
833 points
gonna need an anchor, someone to call me home; gonna need somebody to leave the porch light on
all we need is somebody to lean on
tempo looks toward simon expectantly, but the man just looks down. "when you get on, you start with reins to the buckle," he says, and calla nods even though he's not looking at her. "he likes to stretch out first, or he gets stiff later." he shifts to stand still in one place, setting down his drink at his feet, as she pulls herself up into the saddle. tempo is the same height as stitch but somehow seems to stand taller, like it's in the way he carries himself. it's like he knows that he's an olympic-level horse, that he's special.

"give him two laps each direction," orders simon. "change rein across the long diagonal. he likes his habits." calla nods again, collects her reins and urges the horse forward. she thinks she likes the man's style of coaching; he's matter-of-fact, straightforward. she wonders if he'll snap like eloise has been with her lately, when she doesn't do things right.

she discovers that she likes the way that tempo moves. she's watched the horse before, knows this already, but it's different from her position in the saddle. he moves smooth and steady, and it's easier to hold herself the way she's supposed to without looking as stiff as she knows she often does with stitch and gracie, since the accident.


notes // sorry, she literally doesn't say anything??? at all??? but a post! amaze.

tagged for simon flynn
post made Jan 13 2017, 03:22 AM
twenty eight
male
he/him/his
homosexual
Olympian
lux
Offline
29 posts
35 points
party girls don't get hurt, can't feel anything, when will I learn, I push it down, push it down
tagged for CALLA TAYLOR


for all of the light that i shut out, for all of the innocent things that i doubt, for all of the bruises i've caused and the tears, for all of the things that i've done all these years, for all of the sparks that i've stomped out, for all of the perfect things that i doubt ,i'll be good, i'll be good, and i'll love the world like i should, i'll be good, i'll be good, for all of the times i never could
grace is just weakness
He can't help but watch his horse more than the girl riding; the way Tempo stretches his neck out until her hand is a little too stiff against the rein and then he draws his nose inward a little to feel at the contact, and the way he walks straight and true, the thing that had drawn Simon to him in the first place. So many horses wobbled around, a little deviation here and there from a misstep. Tempo was not one of those, not even before he had the muscle to hold himself up on his own, nice and straight and true. A sad smile crosses his lips for a moment, but it's gone the moment he remembers to look at Calla.

Loosen your elbows. You're going to pull too much at him when you pick up the contact. He needs to be able to move. We've been over this.

He doesn't sound as strict as he used to, he realized a moment too late. No, now he just sounds tired. Defeated. Maybe a little bit bored, but that's just the alcohol talking. He's still holding on too tight himself, though; Tempo is his, yes, but he is not the one riding. She doesn't know this horse, not the way he does. He raised the stallion from the ground up; now it is Tempo's turn to do the same for her. He shouldn't interfere, not too much. She'd learn all on her own. The chestnut stallion was nothing if not a strict teacher, he'd noted. One wrong tug, one wrong flex of a muscle, one moment too stiff - and working was no longer a thing he did. It had been their downfall in the London Olympics. He'd learned that for Rio and relaxed, and look where that had gotten them. On top of the world, if only for a moment.

That'll do it - trot on. Pick up your contact before the transition. And... Maybe hold a bit of mane. He'll have a lot more elevation and suspension to his step than Stitch. Might bounce you right out if you're not careful.

post made Jan 18 2017, 07:41 PM
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