Tread S o f t ly [open]

[atlas]

There was an obvious pain streaking through the girl, physical mostly. She had blocked the mental out. She had forgotten about it. Fascinating how, if you just put away everything that reminded you of the source, you could just so easily forget everything. At least for now. In the back of her mind, she knew there was something missing, something she had to attend to, but she didn't know what, and she knew she was running from it. Alone in her car, trying to the movies, Alexis' nerves were on fire. And not in a good way. To move the wheel, to accelerate, the shift the automatic...it hurt. It was excruciating. She didn't even know what all of the semi healing scars were too. She just knew a lot of them were from surgery and not whatever had caused them. To grit her teeth and feel the pain riveting in her jaw, that was the best she could do to ride through the rest of hear aches. Tears had already rimmed her eyes, and this girl never cried. Very rarely would she cry out from something that cause mentally hurt her, and she would never cry about a physical ache. So to anyone that could even tap into her psyche, she was hurting.

Slowly, she pulled into a parking spot. If the only good thing about her pain way that she had a handicap parking spot, that would be enough. Sliding her old ford into a P for Park, she wrapped her arms around the wheels and sighed. She was already taking too much pain medication, put she threw another two pills down her throat with a chug of water and slowly slide outside of the metal cage. It was night time, and some how she wasn't worried about someone trying to mug her tonight. She was oddly dressed for a summer night. Lose fitting jeans, and a hoodie over her tank top. All of it hided stitches and bandages and castes. She should of been in a wheel chair, or at least crutches, but she was hobbling along with a cane and dull eyes.

By the time she had gotten half of her ticket stub back, she had forgotten what movie she had even paid to see. And besides, this whole outing wasn't about going to see a movie. It was about getting out. Bed rest was tiring. She fetched a drink, iced water, and hugged it to her chest to keep strain off of her braced wrist. She looked like something out of hell. Correction: she looked like something that had been chewed up and spited back out from hell. Sighing painfully, she pushed brushed her curly locks back from behind her ear and virtually crawled on.
Number three on the left
Glancing up, she found theater three and dragged herself into the theater. She soon realized that buying a drink had been a mistake. The incline up was hard to take when you needed on hand on the railing and the other leaning on the cane. Somehow she managed, and when she found a seat that would do, she tapped the lid back onto the drink and got as comfortable as she could in her seat. Her eyes droning on, fallowing the commercials, than previews.

[Desert]

He felt like an A-list celebrity here! Everyone seemed to know who he was. Of course the pack of jockeys he hung out were completely insane. They still love what he loved. And that was to race. To feel the horses mane whip into your face. Then the wire. I all depended on you and your horse. You had to be a team!

He had to hide himself when he wanted to go somepalce publc. Today was one of those days. He kept his head low. He wore sunglsses and even a cowboy hat. Today was to go to the theatre! He had started to forget the experiance of going into public. His agent pushed him and his horse to their knees. Plus, his wild mare, Spirit had gotten out and killed another mare. The owner of the grey horse, Syra. Wasn't as furious as expected. Ira had promised her anothr horse. One bred by himself. Her mood had brightened at that. She requested a mare. To keep the dead mare's yearling company.

Ira had also mentioned helping hr train the yearling. Syra acceted the offer, but a younger man named, Alex. He didn't trust Ira. He didn't know why. It seemed that the taller man had serious trust issues. Ira had spent that morning in the arena, practicing the barrels. Then, it started to rain. What luck. It rained all that day then slowed up and stopped around eight. Time for training to end! He put London in the stall. Spirit seemed fine out in the pasture. Ira always had the nights off. Tha's when he got to have some fun. But people roamed at night. And what better to do than mug a famous jockey?

Never mess with short guys that ride horses. They kick ass! He snickered at the thought as he pulled his Nissan 350Z into a random spot. It as dark out already. He streached and tookthe keys ou of the ignition and left his comforable car to enter the building. He baught a random ticke for random movie. He had a small limp. He pulled his knee in the gates when the trained in flat racing. It was stll a little sore.

He found the right theatre and slowly walked in. Keeping his head low. He took a moment to let his eyes ajust to he darkness. He took off his glasses, seeing that no one here seemed to notice him. He crept up to the nearest seat and sat down beside a girl who looked awful. She looked hurt.Why was she here? She should be at home tending to her injuries and resting. He raises and eyebrow and faced the screen. Not really paying attention o what was happening.

[atlas]

The pain killers were slowly sinking in. They were heavy, and sickening, but other wise nothing she had heard of before. Sure wasn't any ibuprofen or advil though... Alexis hated the way that these pain killers worked. They made her sluggish, dragging themselves through her veins and nerves. Making her body feel like mixing cement, not yet settled into a concrete. If she could eat, the pills would of made her throw up. But alas, something about feeling this way... it was odd to explain. You just couldn't hold down food. Her body rejected the feeling as though she were swallowing glass. She took a pained sip of water and put it down to rest in the cup holder arm rest. Her hand permanently curled around the drink, cement settled. It felt cool on her hand, the icy perspiration electrifying her nerves as much as the killers would allow, which was up to her wrist. It was a small pleasure, almost unnoticed under all of the shit that was the rest of her life. She was burning up, fighting off small infections, healing, and what she was wearing in general. She ached as a whole, and her whole conscious just blocked it all out. How magical.

The movie came on, and her eyes droned after it. Watching without seeing. If she was fully aware of herself and her surroundings, it would be an action flick. Explosions and gun fire alighting her ghastly pale face. Instead of hearing the words, and paying attention to what was happening plot was, her eyes unfocused and all she saw was brilliant colors. A sleek black car drove off an over pass and exploded into a contrast of lush reds. Her mind lurched, and within her skull she screamed at some unknown slaughtering pain. She flinched away from the screen and contorted herself more into a ball. She hadn't a clue what had frightened her so, but she could not face it. Cowarding in an painfully awkward C shape against the seat next to her which she was later notice had someone in it. Her iced water jumping as she jerked, half of it spilling into her lap and making her rigid.

[Desert]

The short man watched the movie like everyone else. He wasn't really interested on what was going on. The plot didn't seem that interesting anyway. A lot of explosions and action. He wasn't really interested in that stuff. All he could think about were his horses. And Syra and Mourn. He promised her a horse, but who? Who would be the young woman's new mount. Surely he couldn't give her on of his champion race horses. That would be insanity. All his horses were bred to run. They raced in big races. The Belmont Stakes, Triple Crown, Kentucky Derby....They were not to be given to someone who didn't race.

He raked his brain for more options. Did he have any other horses that could leave the farm? He bit his lip. His soft blue green eyes watched the colours of the movie flash before them. His mind wandered. He promised! He always kept a promise. Then it clicked. Yes! Hidalgo! She was a lazy little mustang, but she was a good horse. She responded to anyone that knew how to ride.

Syra said something about jumping. Maybe with a little training, Hidalgo could be a good jumper, of course. Those short legs of hers wouldn't get her over jumps that warmblood's could. Maybe three feet at the most. Hidalgo could also be a good dressage horse. She had to loose a little weight though.

He shifted in his seat a little and leaned back. Only to hear a scream and feel a body close to his. He looked to the place next to him. The injured girl. What startled her? Still her drink went into her lap and he jumped. "Oh! Are you alright, miss?" he asked half standing, half kneeling beside her. Looking for some way to help.

Ira was a nice guy, really. But he had a nasty reputation. Only being a softy when no one was looking. If the press was around, he probably would've laughed at her. No matter how much he wanted to help. Now he was free. He could help her! The person in front of them handed him some napkins.

Ira gently lay one on her leg. Not putting to much preasure on the wet spot near her knee. He was careful where he put his hands. Not sure where was hurt and where wasn't. "Here, let me help you." he mumbled, even though he was already helping to dry her off.

[atlas]

In a state far away, a black stallion was waking up from his own bout of multiple and extensive surgeries. He was placed in a pool like an expensive equine athletic was. Like anything that was worth saving. Like anyone that had enough money would have it. In the back ground a tall man stood. He had a tan trench coat draped over his shoulders, his piercing blue eyes weary. This room was cold, along with the rest of the north eastern state was. His nieces life depending on this horse living. There wasn't any secret or surprise about that. She had woken up from her own coma, haven completely forgotten about the black in the pool. It broke his stone heart to see that. She woke up, half dead, and just looked into his blue eyes with nothing in her own. She looked just as broken as when she had first been brought to him after her parents death. As the stallion awoke, he screamed. Loud and piercingly so that horses miles away could hear and flinch. It tore up his hoarse throat to have screamed so, but the giant was angry. He thrashed around in his bubble, tearing open stitches and IVs off his neck. He attempted to rear, teeth flashing at the extensive team of veterinarians gathered around him, trying to calm him and stab sedates into his neck. In the background, the coated man just watched as the horse bleed into the pool.


Her core trembled, at first from the initial shock, and then from the cold, and all the medication just ran it through. Every time she blinked, behind her eye lids, flashes of red and black clashed like a rape within her own mind. It was horrid, the feelings the two colors stirred up. She didn't even dare look deeper into why it had scared her. The fright was that awful, that bad. There was a wall that stood between her and it. And she didn't dare try to bring it down. Her eyes were rimmed in white, and it would take the drugs another few minutes to sedate her trembling core. She looked at the man who was now crouched before her, her sickly blue eyes finally focusing and taking in something. Her lips parted, but it was surprisingly hard to form words. If she had been more herself, she would laughed her spill off. Maybe even teased the man about where he placed his hands. But that part of her was bleeding out in a pool. She closed her lips. Shock still flushing her face in a more pleasant type of paleness. Slowly, her mind processed the man in front of her. He was small. Oddly dressed. He was hiding. Not sure what. He was kind. Not sure why. Her head processed this with a stupidity of all its own. Her inner thoughts struggling to form words and feelings to fit what she saw in front of her. As the man tended to her numb legs where jeans clung to her swollen flesh, she pulled her arm in front of her like it was a foreign object. Something interesting, fascinating, new. Strains of blood was running down her finger tips, small but hard to ignore. The liquid was hot, burning the dry flesh it ran over. She unzipped her hoodie, slowly and carefully pulling it over her shoulders and arms. Her other arm, left, was bruised and scraped but other wise fine. The one that bled had a patch over the shoulder, and another at the top of her arm. It was the second patch of gauze and tape that was slowly bleeding. Her mind processed this like it was an adventure. Like she was ten again and she was in the forest looking for bugs. She pulled her arm away from her body, her hand working away the tape and gauze. Exposing a nasty looking wound. Bone had once been prodding out of it, but she didn't know that. All she knew that there was jagged line, heavily bruised, that was stitched up just as heavily. She had pulled stitches when she had jumped so. At the end of the gash that took up a good portion of her slender arm. Little circles sat oddly in bleeding flesh. Using her finger nails, she plucked three stitched out like they were butterflies. Holding them delicately between her fingers. Studying her arm with fascinated and drunken eyes, she looked back at the small framed man crouched before her.
"I'm bleeding..."

[Desert]

He looked up when she spoke. He could smell the metalic scent of blood. He looked up at her shoulder and frowned. What happened to her? He frowned and stood up. He was only 5'6", but he had a muscualr frame, but still light. He wouldn't get in the way of people who were actually watching the movie. He squinted to see the open wound. He frowned.

Now, how was he going to help with that? Especially in this low light. Being a jockey. He was getting hurt often. He always knew how to fix it. Apperently this girl needed stitches. Of course, all his medical supplied were at home. He leaned over her slightly. Mumbling as he did. After a moment of observing he stood up straight. "Hmmm. Yes. We need to get you in the light.I can help the bleeding, but I can't stitch up the wound." he spoke softly. Hiding his real voice with a lower pitch. He was really good at that. Years of practice.

This was his night off. This wole town seemed to have a horse. They knew who he was. Including his voice. He wasn't ready to get noticed. He offered her his hand. Not sure if she was willing to go or not.

[atlas]

Alexis frowned softly at her small handful of stitches and looked back up at the stranger with pouty eyes. The prescription drugs her doctors were giving her where great. She would of loved them as a teenager. But you actually had to be severely messed up to get severely messed up. The pills made her act borderline high, but that was probably better than feeling the pain. She could never quite remember what it was like to be on the pills when she wasn't. And the pain wasn't worth not being on them. But you'll miss the movie!
She said in disapproval, raising her voice and first them dropping it down as she looked at the screen. Wait, she was at the movies... indoor voiccccesss.
Alexis wasn't really the involved in the racing world. She watched all of the big races, but she didn't fallow names. Plus she would be hard pressed to remember her uncle, let alone any distant named jockey. Like the one helping her, but aside from me a short and light little man, that was all she knew. She couldn't connect the clues. She was in a horse town, and here was a small and lightweight man. Jockey, duh. If she was more lucid, she probably could of figured it out.
Frowning once more, she looked down at her wet lap. Water was everywhere! Geez, what a mess she had made. Still sitting her seat with the man crouched in front of her, she weaseled her way past him and staggered/limped her way out of the theater in search of... something. A bath room? Sure, to look at her arm.