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Post by Damian Lancing on Apr 7, 2011 19:07:17 GMT -6
Damian’s eyes jerked open and he sat up in bed as he was spooked away by a dream. He could feel his whole body sticky in a cold sweat and had to breathe through his mouth in order to get enough oxygen to his deprived body. He looked around his dark bedroom before he finally managed to calm down by taking several deep breaths through his nose. He pushed hair away from his forehead as he felt he bed shift. He looked down to see Bourbon, his dog, having perched her front legs on the bed, thinking it must be time to get up and start the day since her owner was awake now. Damian scratched the top of her head affectionately, watching as she lowered her ears to rest upon her neck as he brought his hand over. The room was dark and there was no light coming in from the cracks in the curtains and even though it was winter and it didn’t get light until fairly late in the morning he knew it was still the middle of the night.
Knowing he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep Damian stretched his arms over his head, hearing some slight popping in his shoulders before pushing himself back to lean against his head board, motioning for Bourbon to climb into the bed. He scratched the dog behind the ear as he waited for his heart rate to return to normal. Now that he thought about it the dream had been the same one it always was, some weird, twisted version of his accident, always as if seen through some sort of red screen. He wasn’t even sure why he had nightmares about that. He didn’t remember it too well, it had all happened so fast and all he really remembered about it was the searing pain and the feeling of his own warm blood sticking to his breeches (well, that was a good thing about this accident, he never had to wear breeches again). It would make more sense to have dreams about the day his fiancée left or when he cut his hand on that broken liquor bottle. Luckily, his hand had suffered no permanent damage, even though the cut had really been quite bad. He wasn’t sure how he would have dealt if both his leg and hand were damaged beyond repair.
After a short while Damian finally pulled himself out of bed and stretched a bit, feeling the muscles on the bad of his neck and shoulders moving around in their knots. He really needed to get some other people to do some of this barn work but he simply couldn’t do that to himself. Everyone knew he was bored, sitting there and watching everyone else ride so no one even bothers to help move jumps around or throw hay bales because it gives him something else to do. Either way, he was sore every morning but dealt with it. He ran a hand through his hair, realizing it was still damp from showering the night before and then randomly threw on some clothes. Luckily, it was Saturday night so he had no practices tomorrow, which was nice in the long run because he would be able to head home once he got too tired to really work anymore.
After pulling on his trench coat and gloves he left the house with Bourbon, locking it behind him of course, and just started walking. Why he walked and didn’t drive he would never be able to tell you because by the time he walked the mile to the stable through the darkness of the late night small town his leg was killing him and his limp more apparent than it ever was. Either way, he ignored it as he walked around the stable grounds. By one of the fence lines he saw a few white patches and then heard a soft nicker in his direction and knew it had to be Squire standing at the pasture fence and went over to the gelding. He reached over the fence line and gave the gelding’s neck an affectionate scratch while keeping half an eye on Bourbon as she snuck under the fence just because she could. Soon he started to walk over to the gate and watched as Squire followed him and his eyes immediately went wide when he say the warmblood take the first step.
“Shit,” he mumbled under his breath as he started to move faster towards the gate and let himself into the pasture the second he got there. Squire finished walking towards him, hard lame on his left rear foot. He closed the gate to avoid Squire leaving the arena before walking along the gelding’s body, running his hand over his side the whole time. It was obvious Squire knew he was there, horses can see in the dark and all around them, but Damian needed to know if Squire had any ideas about kicking. Granted, the gelding was much more of a lover than a fighter, and lowest on the totem pole out in the pasture so he wasn’t all that surprised at the injury. After running his hand down Squire’s leg he decided he just couldn’t see enough to tell what it was, though did feel some heat and liquid, which he assume was blood and wiped his hand on one of Squire’s dark patches before returning to the horse’s head. Squire had stood perfectly still for the whole examination and now turned his head as if to see what he got for doing so.
“Okay boy, gotta come inside,” he said, a sigh in his voice but glad he got himself out to the barn now instead of later. The injury didn’t’ feel too bad but if Squire ran on it in the morning when it was feeding time it might just be. He carefully reached over the fence to get the halter that was there for this very reason while also pushing against Squire’s chest to ask him to back up a few steps. Damian did not allow horses to crowd him and both his two, Squire and Mack, knew better than not to respond to pressure. He slid the halter onto Squire’s head before leading him out of the pasture and up towards the barn, Bourbon following as he left. He flipped on the lights, blinking a few time as his pupils adjusted before turning to Squire, who was still blinking and giving his head a slight shake. “I know boy, I know,” he patted his neck a few times. Horse’s eyes didn’t adjust to changes in light as quickly as a human’s did, this was one of the main reasons it was sometimes difficult to load a horse into a trailer. Luckily there shouldn’t be any other horses in the barn right now, as far as he knew.
Damian walked Squire over to the stall he usually used while he was inside, reprimanding Bourbon as she ran inside too, when she then left and went to lay down in the far corner of the barn and looked inside to make sure it was significantly bedded, and decided it was before tying the gelding to the outside of the stall. There were cross ties, but he found them to be dangerous to both humans and horses so avoided them at all costs. Once tied he went back and checked over his leg once again where he finally realized what the injury was. Squire had somehow managed to puncture himself with some sort of wood, which was now out of the injury but he could tell through a few splinters. He sighed deeply and ran a hand through his hair, making a mental note to make sure his tetanus shot was up to date, though he didn’t see why it wouldn’t be. Before he could do anything else with the injury before he heard Bourbon bark a couple times. He reprimanded her in a firm voice, when she shut up, but he knew why she was barking in the first place, though. Someone else was here.
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Post by Melissa Brandwine on Apr 9, 2011 21:30:42 GMT -6
Tick, tick, tick, tick... The slow and hypnotic sound of the clock, that was hanging over Missy's kitchen sink, could be heard so clearly through her apartment that it was almost as if the darn thing was right next to her head. How did she miss that when she had picked the clock from the assortment at the store? Maybe switching to digital clocks would be a better idea.. the absence of constant ticking would be much more welcome during times such as now. She simply couldn't sleep with such loud ticking. Or was that just an excuse for the bout of insomnia that seemed to be plaguing the young woman? Missy sighed and turned on to her side, blinking at the neon red numbers on her alarm clock. Really? She hadn't even fallen asleep for five minutes? It appeared that hot tea wasn't much of a sleep aid, then, and could be crossed off her list of "Things to Try". Tried, failed, next.
With an annoyed sigh, Missy kicked her blankets off and stuffed her feet in to her slippers and moved across the hardwood floor to her bathroom. Might as well wash her face and start her day early, huh? Maybe she'll tire herself out enough for a nap, or skip the nap all together and just crawl in to bed early. Heck, she might even sleep through the night if that happened. The woman shook her head a little and couldn't help but smile when she heard Zuko, her poodle pup, groan and shift in his dog bed. Poor pup, he sure as heck wasn't used to her odd sleeping patterns either.
The woman was quick to prepare herself for the day, glad that she didn't have any classes to prepare for until tomorrow. She scrubbed her face, pulled her hair back, and dressed in a simple pair of jeans and a light sweater. While the days may be getting warmer, she doubted that it was anywhere near warm enough for anything less than a sweater right now... being that it was so early and all. Missy didn't even want to look at the clock just yet, somewhat afraid of exactly what time it was, so instead she put a kettle of water on to boil and busied herself with going through her camera bag. There were some items that she had to restock before she left her apartment, and film that she needed to remember to bring with her to be developed, so she took inventory and filled in the gaps. She could stop in the developing room, once it was a decent hour, which was probably one of the only benefits to being up so early. Oh, and getting a chance to shoot some sunrise photos. Those were always a big hit, and some of her personal favorites.
Armed with a large travelers mug of tea, her camera bag slung over her shoulder, and the knowledge that Zuko was happily sleeping in the bedroom Missy pulled the door to her apartment closed and locked up. She tugged a worn Rowanoak baseball hat on to her head, making sure that her ponytail of confined curls was pulled through the opening in the back, before she jogged down the three flights of stairs that stood between her and the slight chill of the outside world. It wasn't a far walk to anything from her apartment, not that she minded the exercise, and she let herself kind of meander around in the crisp darkness.
Half an hour later Missy found herself walking up the driveway to Ridgefield, pausing now and then to take a test shot of the horses that were out and about in the pastures. It never hurt to see just what kind of picture she ended up with, especially when she adjusted to different lenses and everything. Rubs and scratches were given to the horses that decided to approach her, just their mere presence putting her at ease a little more than she had already been. Murmuring her farewells, Missy continued on her walk up to the barn. She really wasn't expecting on seeing anyone, just deciding on taking a little time to take more pictures or even do a little minor scouting to see if any horses were being confined to a stall for one reason or another.
Missy blinked in both intrigue and confusion when she saw lights on, her eyes widening a fraction when she heard barking from the stable. She wasn't aware that there was a dog here, then again it made sense. Maybe she should just turn around and head on to Rowanoak... or walk somewhere else, for that matter. Her approach slowed as she moved closer to the stable door, poking her head in first before tentatively moving in further. If the lights were on then someone had to be in there. While her nerves heightened and her heart began to race at the uncertainty of just who was in the barn at this hour, she couldn't stop herself from investigating. "Hello? Is someone in here?" If someone was trying to vandalize the place or something just as wrong then she'd have her phone out in minutes. Her tea was still, uh, warm enough to give her a bit of a head start... should she find herself face to face with a perpetrator.
{Finished} |
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Post by Damian Lancing on Apr 24, 2011 0:55:36 GMT -6
Damian was already feeling that it was going to be a long day. Waking up in a cold sweat and then being unable to fall back asleep despite trying always signaled the start of a day that could have been better but when he didn’t even have the want to try and go back to sleep after he had woken up the day could only go up from there. Or so he thought before he got to the barn. He had been stupid and walked the mile on his leg which was now really telling him what it thought of that idea and he had to be on it all day. Though he did love his job he did sometimes wonder if he should find a way to make it so he wasn’t on his feet, or better yet, not on his leg, for so long. He supposed he could actually start to delegate instead of do so much himself and he could stop catching the horses for the students and make them show up earlier to go get the horses themselves but, somehow, he just didn’t want to. A part of him wanted to totally ignore the fact that he leg could sometimes give him fits. He was over it, right? Well, that was a lie, he would never really be over what had happened, losing his whole life in one bad fall but he was dealing with it now. He enjoyed his job, had friends, his amazing dog and horses and he was honestly doing okay. Just okay.
The already bad day, however, only got worse when he had to come to the stable to a lame horse. It would have been frustrating if any of the horses had been lame because it is his job to take care of it as the barn manager but the fact that it was his own gelding just made it that much worse. He, of course, felt bad for the horse due to the fact that he was in such pain but also because he would have to be in stall rest and Squire… didn’t do stall rest, to put it simply. The gelding was a bad self-mutilator when bored, and especially when confined to a stall. He would really have to watch that so he wouldn’t also have to heal up a bite mark where Squire’s saddle would sit. Damian also couldn’t help but think about the events Squire would have to miss and he panicked when he thought about how Squire may not be able to compete in Rowanoak’s upcoming show. He would have to jump through hoops in order to a horse that could replace the gelding in his classes and he would not be looking forward to that either.
And, of course, Damian couldn’t help but think about what the rest of the day held for him. Lessons and practices and he was also planning on giving flu shots to the show horses today as well. A slow frustration was starting to come onto him as he thought about how he would have to go through today tired and with last night’s nightmare stuck in his head, and his leg killing him, of course. He tried to force the thoughts away from his head by examining Squire’s leg. At least it didn’t look like he was going to have to call the vet. It was a straight forward puncture and looked to be clean; something Damian knew how to care for himself. He would check to make sure the tetanus shot was up to date but even if it wasn’t Damian could give that one with the flu shot later today and there would be no issue, when it came down to it. Damian straightened his back again just as Bourbon decided to barn and inform Damian that he wasn’t alone. He shushed the dog, she knew better than that, but did look to see where Bourbon was looking as well.
When the voice came to him he knew it in a second, but he couldn’t tell you from where. The voice held such amazing memories for him but he still couldn’t place it, what the hell was that all about? When she finished speaking Damian started to walk over to Bourbon, who was shaking her tail as she saw the women coming towards them, but was obviously held back by Damian’s command to stay where she was. He heard his own feet against the concrete floor of the stable and hated the sound of his very obvious limp. “Yes, someone is, and I’d like to know why you’re here as well,” he said as he turned the corner and looked to see where the voice was coming from. As he looked up and saw the woman he immediately knew why he knew the voice and he froze exactly where he was, his heart skipping a beat and then starting to race as he forgot to breathe for several breaths.
“I… um… Missy?” he asked, shifting his weight over to his good leg and finding Bourbon with his hand as a form of comfort. “What the… I… why are you here?” he finally forced out of his mouth as he noticed his hand shaking and gripped it into a fist above Bourbon’s head to try and make it less noticeable. What the hell was she doing here? Did she really have to show up and torture him more? Remind him again of the old days when he felt like he owned the entire world and then some. He was so confused as old feelings fell back to him. This was the woman he had been completely head over heels for, the one that had made him so nervous when he proposed that he could hardly get the words out and the one that left him because he had been nothing but an idiot about the whole thing, not to mention the girl that hung up on him when he called just to tell her he was sorry for being that idiot. What was he supposed to say to her when all he wanted to do was turn around and pretend he had never seen her and go on about his already crappy day.
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Post by Melissa Brandwine on Apr 27, 2011 1:48:47 GMT -6
Okay, so maybe entering the stables at some ungodly morning hour wasn't the brightest of moves. Missy really had no idea who could be in the stables, now did she know who might be lurking around or what random events might take place. As far as she knew, Ridgefield was a safe enough place, though even the safest of neighborhoods could harbor some dirty secrets or dangers in the shadows. If she factored in the low amount of sleep that she was running on, it would make a little more sense for her to be more cautious than she was being. What woman in her right mind investigated bumps in the night? Well... Missy, that's who.
She wasn't completely defenseless, should the "intruder" in the barn be an unsavory character of sorts. The tea in her travel mug was still on the warm side and could be an effective way to grant her some time to turn and run if she threw the liquid in the person's eyes. And she had taken a self defense class as well, adding a decent enough left hook to her odd ball mixture of weapons. Melissa Brandwine was no victim, she made sure of that. She had experienced feeling helpless a few times too many in her twenty-six years, and she worked her ass off to keep feeling like that again as far away as possible.
Wetting her lips, the brunette glanced around the main stable aisle a little and took a few slow steps further in to the lit building. The dog didn't really make her nervous, just kept her alert and on her toes. Since she didn't know the dog she wouldn't assume that it was friendly, just like she wouldn't assume that it was left in the barn as a guard dog. If she remembered correctly, Ridgefield preferred to leave their horses out to pasture as often as possible, therefore a guard dog in the barn didn't seem like a necessity.
The voice that responded to her inquiry had the back of her mind twitching as she tried to remember why it was familiar. In any case, the masculine voice sounded just a tad annoyed.. and she really couldn't blame the guy. It was early and maybe he thought that he'd be able to have some peace and quiet or something. Biting her lip, Missy blinked when the voice's owner turned the corner and she saw who it was. Her heart jumped in to her throat and she tightened her hold on the strap of her camera. "...Damian." Was she really seeing him right now? Or was her lack of sleep playing tricks on her eyes? Maybe she was actually sleeping right now.
Did he have to look so handsome? Why was he here right now? Why was he here period? God, she really needed to read the alumni notices more often, and pay more attention to the letters that were sent around to faculty. "I work here. Or, well, I mean.. I work at Rowanoak. As a professor." Could she have sounded more awkward? Resisting the urge to rub at her forehead or toy with her hair, both nervous traits of hers, Missy wet her lips and took in a shaky breath. "What.. are you doing here?" Was he better now? He looked better... hell, he was up and about, which was a major improvement from when she had left. It was amazing what two years could do to people. |
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Post by Damian Lancing on May 9, 2011 10:23:16 GMT -6
Damian never thought much of the security of the stable. Sure, they had some crazy expensive horses here, Mack was work well over thirty thousand, Desire foals alone were worth over ten grand each and that wasn’t to mention some of the horses students would bring in but it still never bothered him. There were only about four to five hours a day when either he or Madison was not there and most of the time the stable was full of activity. They had security cameras everywhere and anything of real value, not including the horses of course, was locked away at night. He had also pulled multiple all nighters out at the barn as the manager. Icing the water of a horse that had overheated, lugging water buckets around when the power would go out, checking on a horse that had emergency surgery earlier that day, it was just a part of his job and one he was willing to do. Not that he slept too much anymore. He, more or less, had three jobs to keep up with and, while he loved being busy, no one could say his social life had suffered from his constant working. If he wasn’t at the stable he was at home or at an AA meeting but hey, the busier he was kept the less time he had to think about the alcohol that tormented his life.
Now, what he found really odd right now was not so much that someone else would be at the barn because, well, people were allowed at the barn at any time during the day and college aged students did have weird sleeping patterns, but it was that Bourbon would bark at them. The only time Damian had ever heard Bourbon make any sort of vocalization was when the doorbell rang at home, which he was working on, and when he left her alone in the house, when she barked and pawed at the door. Damn separation anxiety, but he was working on that as well. It wasn’t so bad since the dog went almost everywhere with him but his door was currently taking a beating and it, of course, wasn’t good for the dog to be panicked like that every time he had to go somewhere. Not to mention, he was tired of trying to find hotels that were pet friendly when horse shows were to be attended.
Damian was at least happy that Missy seemed shocked and at a lack for words when she saw him too. He would have been fairly annoyed if she knew he was here but he didn’t know the same about her. Seeing her again was more than he had ever dared hope for and now that she was there in front of him he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with this new chance, or even what he wanted to do with it. He was confused and looked it every bit as much as he felt it, but it did help that Missy’s face mirrored the same expression of “what the hell?” He didn’t think either of them had ever expected to be face to face again after she left and, well a part of him was glad to see that she was well another part was slowly filling with a resentment in his gut that made him feel sick that she had left and could still be doing so well when he was grabbing at everything he could get his hands on and grabbing onto it with a death grip.
When she turned the question around Bourbon came up to him, turning her back to Missy, and put her head under his hand for a pet, which he gave her and that, for the first time, broke his stare n Missy’s face. He looked down at his three-legged best friend and forced a smile at her cute face looking at him like “who is she?” “I… um,” he started before giving his head a little shake and forcing himself to sort out his words in his head before speaking. “I’m the barn manager… well, one of them,” he explained, shifting his weight over to his right leg to get off his bad leg a little, which was now screaming at him thanks to the walk he took this morning. Maybe he’d get Madison to drive him back home later today to pick up his truck because he’d be dragging his leg by the time he got back and then it would hurt more than it normally did for the next week, nothing he was all that interested in.
“I’m… um… I’m also the new coach at… at Rowanoak,” he said, figuring he should add that in as well because that was, more or less, his main job. He was the coach of an NCAA team that spent a lot of its time winning, yeah, that paid him decently and slowly he was dragging himself out of the debt he put himself into when he had been drinking so much. He stared for a second before looking down and taking his hand off of Bourbon’s head when she looked up at him before walking… or bouncing… over to Missy. “She’s really nice, you can go ahead and pet her,” he told Missy, knowing Bourbon could have sounded very aggressive just moments earlier. “Bourbon,” he said, telling Missy the dog’s name before realizing how that could sound. “She… she came with the name,” he explained before taking a step backwards.
“My horse is lame,” he continued before turning around and walking away in a way that told Missy she was free to follow. Squire had sidestepped so he was facing where Damian had been standing and the blood on his leg from the puncture wound was obvious with the white hair, causing Damian to sigh and run a hand through his hair. “You remember Squire,” he said, reaching up to give the horse a pet behind. He got Squire as a three year old soon before he hurt his leg and had spent a lot of time with the gelding then. He even remembered Missy getting annoyed with him always being out at the barn with his new “money vacuum.”
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Post by Melissa Brandwine on May 25, 2011 12:39:56 GMT -6
Seeing Damian now, after almost a full two years of avoiding pictures of them and just isolating herself, really had an effect on Missy. All of the feelings that she had worked so hard to lock away found this surprise as a chance to surface, shoving hard against her composure. She couldn't crumble now, not when he looked so good. To be honest, Missy wasn't upset that Damian was doing well for himself. Right now she was mad at herself for being so surprised to see him. They were at Rowanoak, the place where they met and both went to school. Why wouldn't Damian be there? She had hoped that he would crawl out of his depression at some point, so it was good to see him standing in the aisle of Ridefield's barn, looking stronger and healthier than the day that she had walked out.
Speaking without tripping over her words too much was proving to be a bit difficult, though. On one hand, she felt that she had completely legitimate reasons for walking out on him two years ago. He had been struggling, and even though she had loved him, and still did, Missy had felt like she was drowning as she struggled to help him get his feet back beneath him. On the other hand, Missy felt so guilty about abandoning him like that. It would be a lie to say that she didn't have her own problems to deal with now, the majority of which stem from the day that she walked out on her fiancée, but having to come face to face with the man that she was still battling feelings for just wasn't fair.
The woman forced herself to sip some of her tea, hoping that it might clear the frog from her throat. She could talk to Damian again.. it was possible, wasn't it? Missy didn't have to force a smile when he confessed his job. "That... that's great, Damian. Barn manager and coach, it's impressive." She paused and lifted her eyes to look at him again. He really had gotten himself back on to his feet, done something with himself. Hanging up on him a year ago.. christ, just another mistake she made. "I'm... happy for you." And she was, honestly and truly. However, she was becoming more and more upset with herself. This really wasn't going to help her sleeping problems.
This wasn't the time to go feeling sorry for herself, though, nor would it do her any good to begin beating herself up over what already happened. It wasn't like Missy could go back in time and fix things, right? She had to move forward. A new job as a professor, even if it meant working in the same place as her ex, meant that she could continue taking those steps forward.
Her attention shifted from Damian to the dog, though, as the animal made a direct path towards her. Since she had a dog herself, she wasn't too nervous. It wasn't like Damian's animal had her teeth bared or anything. Missy crouched a bit, setting her mug down on the floor next to her and offering a hand for the dog to sniff. "Hey there, girl..." The words trailed off when he spoke again, eyes widening a bit when he spoke the dog's name. Wasn't that ironic? She didn't really have time to respond to that before he began to back track and retreat.
Missy gave Bourbon a good scratch behind her ears before standing and taking a few steps towards the stall where Damian was. "I remember Squire. Poor guy... how has he been? Despite currently being.. uh.. lame, I mean." It was good to see that the gelding was still around. Damian proved her wrong about the horse, and she was glad about that.
{it kind of sucks. I'm sorry!} [/blockquote] |
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Post by Damian Lancing on May 25, 2011 18:27:24 GMT -6
Damian had long since accepted that Missy had moved on and was fine without him. He had thought over how she was with someone else and, though it killed him every time the thought came to him, it was something he had just forced himself to stop thinking about for the sake of his own sobriety. He would admit that when he placed that phone call to her a few months back he had been hoping that she may turn around, come see him, and they could rekindle whatever relationship they had before he broke his leg but he realized quickly that Missy had no interest in such a thing. It was right then that he found himself the closest he had ever been to losing it and going back to his drink, but he just so happened to have the best sponsor in the world and she had been at the barn within ten minutes of the phone call he placed to her and easily got him to calm down and turn that want to drink into something else. He got more done around the barn that day then he would have ever thought possible and his leg was killing him by the end of it, but he was still sober the next morning.
Seeing her now Damian couldn’t help but glance down at her left hand. He had been so in love, so head over heels that he could not see how some other guy hadn’t snatched her up yet. What had he been thinking all those years ago? Why would a girl like her stay with a man who cared more about where his next drink was coming from than he did her? She had every right to leave, and he understood that. That, however, would never mean that he agreed with her decision or had ever mentally forgave her for leaving him when he was in such a vulnerable place in life and he needed her so badly. He only got worse between the time when Missy left and he found Bourbon on television and went to pick her up. He pulled himself back together, no thanks to Missy, and he had done his best to get over her and now, here she was, boarding her horse at the barn he worked at and working at the school he coached at. It didn’t help the man who was still recovering.
He nodded when she congratulated him on his jobs. “Thank you. It keeps me busy,” he said, with a small shrug of his shoulders, which made him feel that pinching of the muscles in his upper back where they complained about being overworked. He was wondering if “I’m proud of you,” was somewhere in there, something she wanted to say but it, of course, wasn’t something he wanted to ask. Even though he had told her when he called that he was sober and was calling to apologize, as he was supposed to with the whole twelve step program thing he wondered if she never let it sink in that he was doing something with his life again. He could also tell that she questioned the name of his dog when he said it but that was her problem. It wasn’t so much of a coincidence; if she didn’t have the name she did he never would have shown an interest in her and would probably still be in the bottle to this day. No, it wasn’t a coincidence, it was more along the lines of fate, though he wasn’t sure he believed in that either.
Damian really hadn’t meant to walk away from her but Squire really was the one who needed his attention right now. Not to mention, he had no idea what he was going to say to Missy anymore. They were both back at their Alma Mater, he couldn’t deny it was possible to meet her up here at all places but he had never thought of what he would say in this situation so now figured they could just talk about his horse. He was good at talking about Squire and Mack, one of the few things he took pride in were those two geldings, Squire on top of the list with his advanced level of training when it came to ground work. When Missy assured him that she remembered the gelding and then asked about him Damian once again just shrugged and made himself wait a couple of seconds before he could answer her in a way he would rather not.
“He’s been good. Just got a new leaser in one of the new students who’s working well with him,” he answered, limping over to the back leg of his horse and leaning down slightly to see the injury. The pain he felt when trying to get his leg to bend was obvious on his face and then in his voice when he spoke again, but he was trying to ignore that and hide it as best he could. “I’ve been working with him on the ground too,” he said, pushing around the puncture wound and watching the gelding shift with discomfort but trying to behave as best he could. He picked out a piece of wood but the small piece of wood was the only thing he saw that may have caused the wound, he figured he had been thrown into a tree or something like that. He was often thrown against fences by other horses, being the bottom of the totem pole.
“So… um… what about you? Any horses?” he asked, not sure where else to take the conversation as he turned back and got some wrap from his tack box outside of the stall he used to keep random odds and ends. After pushing anything that may be bad from the wound he smeared it with antibiotic ointment and then began to wrap it with a skilled hand as he waited for Missy to hopefully find a way to continue this conversation a little better than he currently was as he stared at Squire’s leg as the horse glanced back at him and shifted slightly but still stood still as he was trained.
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