Alexander Littlewood | Rena, Sofi

He stood for a second, frozen to the spot. Surely she was going to say something else; anything else, anything but the messy goodbye he knew her explanation was. (He should have been happy that she’d split up with Michael, if only for her own happiness, but in the moment he felt nothing.) This was Rena; she wouldn’t leave him with just a halfhearted apology. He trusted her more than that; he had to trust her more than that. If he couldn’t believe in even the idea of her, he didn’t know what to believe in. He couldn’t feel anything, wouldn’t feel anything but the numbing certainty that this was it. After everything, this was the moment that they parted ways. They were truly done this time. (Maybe, in some removed part of him, he was relieved in the certainty.)

To Alex’s vague surprise, she agreed to his offer; more expectedly, without any acknowledgement to anything he’d said a few moments prior. In Virginia, for all the issues their relationship had held even then, communication was the one that they could rely on. But even he couldn’t expect her to hold that up now. Not after he left her, not after he fled, not after the cube, not after the series of unfortunate events that the years after White Oaks had been. There was still a lingering silence while this realisation kicked in; that despite it all, despite how much he knew she could see that he was pushing himself out of his comfort zone, she was going to leave all those words unsaid. His best, the little that he could give, was not enough.

He walked a pace behind her, ignoring the urge to either sprint away into the night and leave his offer to keep her safe, as well as the equally dangerous and ill-fated temptation to grab her hand with another ramble of unnecessary words she’d inevitably shut down. It was almost poetic, in a way, that there was no silence save for their lonely footsteps. Even the street held a gravity, a respect for the situation that they could hardly manage to give.

The street corner arrived all too soon for his taste and far too late for hers, if Rena’s body language was anything to go by. And that was the true salt in the wound; not the endless goodbyes, not the constant reminders that he was not enough for her. The fact was that she, too, was growing tired of their merry-go-round.

There was a moment, in between the superficial eye contact - since when had anything about her gaze been fake? - and the performative goodbye, where he almost thought that she would stay. That she would turn around, collapse into his arms, say something - say anything. Anything but this. Fairy tales were never his thing, but once, just this once, he’d have given anything to have a happy ever after. Too fickle to trust, but the last thread he was clinging onto.

“I’ll let Sofi know,” he eventually replied, a moment too late for her not to realise that he was hardly concentrating. And then, directed at the man - Will - he’d just been introduced to, “keep her safe, will you?” It was the only acknowledgement he gave to his existence - the only acknowledgment he could give to the attempt at humour that only a stranger to he and Rena’s relationship could even try. He only looked up with her final words. “Rena–” And only when it was too late, only when she was out of sight with Will at her side, did he manage to breathe. “Goodbye, Rena.”

***

And then he was running without any intent; after all, it was the running away part that he was focusing on. All he needed was to get out for a little while, leave the suffocating atmosphere that lingered wherever Rena had been. Just a bit of fresh air, and he’d be fine. (That, at least, was what he told himself.) His mind was running at twice the speed, but somehow still managed not to think of anything but escape. The statistics of nighttime homicide floating vaguely in his mind didn’t bother him, either. Not much could add to the already-frantic panic he was in, but even if he had a calmer state of mind, it wouldn’t have made a difference. In a strangely removed fashion, he wondered when, exactly, he’d become so casual about his own life. Too long ago to remember, or maybe these recent years had finally taken their toll on his memory. Either way, it barely alarmed him in any way past the worry that his affairs would be in enough of a mess that someone would have to be involved. If his desires or lack thereof came down to one thing, it was this: he refused to be a burden.

The wind was blurring the streets around him, until he had alternately turned left and right enough to land up in a place he barely recognised and certainly didn’t want to. Then, and only then, did he let himself slow to a walk. The odds were low that anyone would notice him, on the even less likely chance that anyone else was on a 5am stroll. The stillness granted him a fragment of peace of mind; he could breathe, finally, with the knowledge that there was no one to stop him now. It held a strange power over him - the idea that if he were to do anything, anything at all, no one could hold him back. No one knew where he was. Even if they did, no one cared enough to stop him. Who would? If he couldn’t bring himself to care about himself, how could he expect anyone else to? The answer was simple; he couldn’t, nor would he after countless letdowns. There had to come a turning point in this overprized existence where something would change. For the better, if he was lucky, or for the worse, if he was luckier. The waiting game was becoming tiresome. What harm was it, if he created that point himself? Was it so heinous to play god with his own life?

It was five o’clock in the morning on a thunderous night, and for the nth time in the last year, Alexander Littlewood was contemplating his existence.

Without thinking, he was clutching his wrist to his chest, sliding down the wall he’d pressed his back against to curl up on the ground. He wasn’t sure whether the streaks on his cheeks were tears or the rain, or whether he wanted to find out. The only thing that was fully present in his mind was this: nobody would find me. It’d be at least two weeks before anyone noticed he was missing. Felix was already used to his unexpected absences, he’d pushed away any of the people who had tried to reach out to him, and it was fifteen days until the next month’s rent was due. (Wasn’t it strangely poetic, how the only person who would notice or care about him was his landlord?) Rena would never need to find out. It would be too easy to wipe his slate clean without any intention of starting again.

Were there any loose threads that some stranger would have to sort out? Barely. London was too busy to bother herself with the goings-on of meaningless nobodies. Rena was gone, Pax was gone, Lee was gone, and there was nothing to return to. Sofi, as dismal as it was, would likely be the only person from the Virginia day's that would notice or be told.

He wanted to cry, but all that escaped his lips was a couple of halfhearted prayers to a god he couldn’t believe in and apologies to anyone who was listening. Slowly, it was hitting him that after all the running, all the hiding, everything he'd done to make himself hold onto his sorry little life, it was over. He'd meet his end in a dark corner of the city he had tried to call home. Some unfortunate soul would stumble on a body a few weeks from now; just another statistic. And that would be okay. It had to be.

Only half-aware of what he was doing, Alex fumbled for his phone. If anything, he had to give Rena the goodbye she couldn’t say to him. He had to say those words one last time. And that single action was possibly the thing that saved him. (He wasn't sure whether it was a good thing or not.) A string of messages from Sofia - beginning with some type of apology he didn’t try to decipher, ending with a considerably more frantic where are you?? - lit up his lock screen. Sofi. He’d found the untied thread. Sofi, of all people, didn’t deserve to be involved in this. She didn’t have the right to be involved in this. And for that reason alone, for his incessant opinion that someone he couldn’t trust should not be forced to deal with the mess he was creating, was how he found the strength to get up. It was how he forced himself to look around, become vaguely more aware of his surroundings, walk in the direction he thought his flat was. The sun was just beginning to peek through the vast array of cramped buildings, casting a light pink shade on London’s outline. A new day, with just as little hope as the one before.

He could go back, send Sofia home, and then return to his plans. And, this time, properly plan it all to prevent any accidental threads from being left loose. This, he told himself, would not happen again. Next time, he would do it thoroughly. So thoroughly that there was no way of preventing it.

To Alex’s dull surprise, she was still waiting at his apartment, for whatever reason he didn’t care to think of. Curled up on the couch - he shook away the reminiscence to the night with Rena, to seeing Rena going through the exact same actions - she was scrolling through her phone, holding a mug he recognized to be the only remaining clean one of his total of three. Sofi seemed to be as startled at his entrance as he was with her presence. It was a moment before he remembered that it might be less to do with his character as a whole and more to do with the fact that he’d be gone for two hours without context. (Though admittedly, she deserved none.)

Running one hand through his soaking hair, he offered a greeting. “Hi?” Only then did he realise that he was shivering, and that his equally wet hoodie wasn’t helping in the slightest. He almost moved to take it off - almost. Just in time, he glanced at her, and remembered that look frozen on her face earlier that night; the disgust written as fear at his scars. Even for warmth, even for baring his arms for less than ten seconds, it wasn’t worth it. Instead, he wrung out the baggy sleeves as best he could without shifting them upwards, ignoring the puddle he was creating on the floor around him. He was accustomed enough to the cold to survive just a few minutes longer.

“So I just wanted to…” He broke off to look her in the eyes, tilting his head slightly. Other than his shaking body and the way he kept tugging down his sleeves, one could hardly have told his mental state less than thirty minutes prior. “Why’d you come here?” What he was really asking was closer to what was so urgent as to need a nighttime meeting? What was so urgent to need a meeting at all?

Heather Proudstorm | 22 | Eventing | Titanium "Storm" and Queen Of Spain "Armonía" | School Horse: WO Descendants Of Khan "Khan" | Mentions: Open to any interaction.

Heather would be giving Armonía a quick brush before taking the mare out of the crossties, leading the mare out of the barn and into the dark outside as it was hardly morning yet but she couldn't get herself to sleep....not with these nightmares that haunt her with those past events..she just wanted to forget.....to forget everything but..she can't bring herself to forget as her ownself wasn't gonna allow herself to forget anything. The red brunette let out a tired sigh as she brought her right hand up to her face to rub her eyes, pushing herself to stay awake while leading the docile mare. They've arrived to one of the round pens, opening the gate before going inside the pen with the mare, closing the gate behind both herself and the equine.

Heather went to the center of the round pen then she began to lunge the mare around as she softly clucked her tongue at her, the Appendix began to go around the round pen in a clock wise direction as the mare would be trotting with her stride extended but the mare wasn't showing any signs of stress as the equine seemed quite comfortable in her new environment which gave the young woman some relief. After a while of lunging the mare around, having Armonía walk, trot, canter around her fives times in two different directions. The young woman carefully got in front of the horse's driveline while softly saying whoa to bring the mare to a halt. "Good girl, Armonía." The red brunette softly said to the mare as she let's the equine come into her space to gently stroke her face, Spending some quality time with the Appendix Quarter.

Heather took the mare's halter off so her head collar wouldn't get snagged to anything if she gotten spooked. The red brunette would let the mare do her own thing as she climbs over the round pen fence, now being on the other side of the fence while the mare started walking around, digging at the dirt with her hoof as if looking for a good spot to roll. The young woman rested her now folded arms on the metal bar in front of her, slowly slipping away into her thoughts to escape reality while assuming that no one else would be up in this time of morning, she closed her eyes...allowing herself to be engulfed by her said thoughts.

Rhett Grahams | 23 | Western | OPEN

After approximately two weeks at the new barn, Rhett was finally accustomed to its usual comings and goings. The morning rush was regular enough to make sure that he rode during that time, and even if that was impossible, most of his newfound friends were more than happy to shift schedules to keep him company. (They seemed all too eager to be around him, but he wasn't going to complain.) The set-up, overall, was satisfactory; far more well-equipped than his previous farm in Ohio - the equivalent to the middle of nowhere - and nowhere as distant and ill-connected as the community there. Within the first week, he'd been invited to two post-show celebrations, and even on the off-weeks, the flow of socials hadn't even slowed. The buzz was the main attraction of the place, in his opinion.

The sorrel mare beneath him, however, seemed to think otherwise. Ears pricking in a different direction with each new sound, Constant was showing none of her name's characteristics. (He had chosen it when she was a filly with the most thought his fifteen-year old self had put into anything, and yet she still seemed unaware of the gravity of her namesake.) The highly-strung quarter horse refused to stand still; proving slightly hazardous, given that Rhett was riding with a neckrope and his own riding skill. Only now was it dawning on him that for all the trust exercises in the world, breaking a leg from his horse spooking at a leaf was not the most admirable of stories.

Nonetheless, he nudged her into a gentle walk. Or, at least, that was what it was supposed to be. Instead, she kept her neck as high as her anxiety levels, stepping in an awkward off-beat rhythm. That set the bar for the remainder of the ride - only towards the end did she stretch her head down, and that was only to sniff a rabid plastic bag that she was convinced was going to eat her. "Son buena puta," he said by way of comforting her, rubbing her shoulder. He slipped into Spanish accidently, despite not having spoken it in years. That was the only issue with knowing seven languages - it was difficult to keep track of which one was coming out of his mouth.

Eventually, Rhett decided to call it a day. After a few smooth canters and lead changes, he slowed her to a halt. "Good girl, Constant," he murmured, a flicker of what felt like grief jolting through him. After all these years, the name still held too much power over him. With a shake of his head and a pat on the unaptly-named horse, he shook it off. It would pass. (Maybe like a bad kidney stone, but either way it was temporary. Unlike the very word that was crippling him.)

Humming one of his favourite songs beneath his breath, Drag Me Down, he swung his leg over and dismounted in one fluid movement, like the sweat dripping down his back from the boiling Virginia heat. (One thing that he missed from Ohio was the significantly cooler summers. Maybe it was from all that extra space, he mused. Geography had always been his favourite subject.) Constant followed him like the lovesick girls that trailed him wherever he went, shadowing his movements without any instruction or communication.

Noticing a redhead in a nearby roundpen, Rhett decided to say hi. He'd seen her around, but she was the only person that hadn't instantly melted to his unwitting charisma - she hadn't even gotten as far as greeting him. "Hei-" he began calling, before realizing that he was speaking Finnish. His ears flushing, but face still keeping confident, he tried again. "Hi!" He leaned against the same bar she was resting on, a strand of strawberry blonde hair falling over his forehead. "I'm Rhett. Nice mare you've got here. Who are you?"

Heather Proudstorm | 22 | Eventing | Titanium "Storm" and Queen Of Spain "Armonía" | School Horse: WO Descendants Of Khan "Khan" | Mentions: Rhett, Open to any interaction.

Heather felt herself being pulled back from her thoughts when she heard a masculine voice which caused her to open her eyes, no longer resting her chin on her folded arms as she raised her head to look over at the strawberry blonde. The brunette registered what the man had said as she felt like a deer in headlights. "Oh uh Hey. I'm Heather and thanks, that's Armonía. It's nice to meet you as well, Rhett." The young woman gave a friendly smile as she was putting up her usual happy-go-lucky facade. The mare would have gotten back up from rolling by now as she shook herself, her coat would be quite dirty now.

"So, I'm guessing you just got here?" Heather curiously asked, her southern accent was present as she raised an eyebrow, the bottom half of her hair of where she dyed it red would have faded into a lighter shade of red since the dye was simply just wearing off. Armonía decided to approach the two humans, become quite curious of who her human was talking to as the equine stretched her neck out a bit to check the other human out for any treats since Heather has already spoiled the equine a bit. The young woman glanced over at her mare before absent-mindedly started petting the equine on the neck.

She carefully placed the mare's halter and lead up on her left shoulder so she wouldn't be holding the item while keeping herself quite comfortable on the bar that both her and the other person where leaning on. Heather carefully pushed a few strands of her hair behind her ear so they wouldn't be annoyingly in her face. She would flick her gaze over to her curious equine that was now gently bumping the man's hand with her muzzle, her muscles twitch a bit while her tail was a bit active but so far, the equine seemed quite relaxed in her new home.

Heather Proudstorm | 22 | Eventing | Titanium "Storm" and Queen Of Spain "Armonía" | School Horse: WO Descendants Of Khan "Khan" | Mentions: Rhett (indirectly), Open to any interaction.

"That's quite an interesting story, at least you had fun while finding out about the woman was a run away serial killer" Heather said, holding back a giggle then she would answer his other question which got her thinking. "I've been here since August 2019, so....maybe two or three years now? I haven't been really keeping track." Heather sheepishly said to answering his question. When she heard him complimenting the mare's name, she let a smile tug at the corner of her lips a bit. "Yeah, she came with both her barn name and her registered name when I got her since the people that ran a top line Appendix and Anglo facility already gave those two things to her and I haven't really thought about changing either her barn name or her registered name. They were really nice people, they named their horses with spanish themed names since it's a spanish breeding facility." The brunette realized that she was accidentally spilling her guts out, giving an apologetic look on her face while gently scratching her mare behind the ear to get an itch for her.

Armonía would be quite curious of the other equine with perked ears as she stretches her neck out a bit to check the other mare out. Heather straightened herself out as she recoiled her right arm away from her mare. The brunette turned her attention back to Rhett once again, listening to the man while feeling oddly at ease a bit around his presence as she wasn't really sure why. After a few minutes of casual conversation, she looked over at Rhett's equine before looking back at him. When the young woman heard the man's offer of a trail ride after exercising a couple of ponies, she wouldn't help but give a half-smile in return as she gently pushed a few strands of her brown hair behind her left ear again. "Sure, I wouldn't mind exploring the trails later with some company." The brunette softly said this with a soothing tone to her southern voice, she'd slip into the round pen as the mare backed up slightly to give the woman some room to work with before slipping the equine's purple head collar on, carefully clipping the lead onto her halter before gently patting the mare's muscular neck.

Heather lead the mare out of the round pen, starting to lead the appendix quarter back to the barn. "Later, Cowboy." The brunette said this as a friendly tease to lighten up the mood with a playful wink before walking pass both the man and his mount, walking down the the path back to the barn with her mare beside her. Her hair gently swayed from her walk cycle while Armonía swished her tail, having her head in a relaxed position as the mare seemed quite calm but Heather softly patted the mare's shoulder, as she brought her hand back to herself, she'd wipe her hand on her warm grey leggings, softly giggling to herself. "I need to give you a bath before you go back to your stall." Heather softly said to the mare, leading her inside the barn and over to where the crossties are.

Once both rider and equine have entered the barn, Heather was leading the mare down the aisle. She hadn't notice until Armonía started pinning her ears at one of the mares before almost launching herself at the said mare that tried to push the light bay sabino frame mare. The brunette harshly pulled the lead try to keep a fight from happening as she lead Armonía pass the pushy (possibly moody) mare. Once they've gotten to one of the crossties, she puts the mare into the wash stall, clipping the crossties to both sides of the equine's purple halter before unclipping the matching lead from her said head collar. The brunette walked over to the hose before turning the water on, taking her mitten glove off her left hand before placing her said hand into the water a bit to check if it's warm. Once it's warm, she starts hosing the mare down to give her a quick bathe before placing the equine back in her stall.

Almost an hour later, Heather placed the mare back in her stall after drying her off then slips out of her stall with her halter and lead in her left hand, she looks at Armonía before gently smiling at her equine. "Sweet dreams girl, I'll see you later." The woman softly said before heading off to the tackroom to put the mare's halter back in her locker. She stepped inside the tackroom as she head over to her locker, unlocking it before opening the metal door wide to hang Armonía's lead and head collar inside. She was about to close her locker until she heard two items fall out, landing in front of her feet which caused her to look down. She crouched down, picking up two halters in her hands before standing straight back up. The young woman gently held both a red nylon halter and a sky blue nylon halter, she'd set the second halter down. Her eyes gently landed on an old silver plate on the left side of the red halter, Nightmare "Prince", it held her first Horse's registered name above his barn name, her fingers gently traced over the engraved words on the halter. Her eyes shifted over to the sky blue halter that she had just placed down, Expresso Silhouette "Mystery", the young woman could already feel herself starting to tear up....already this facade of acting like she's 'fine' was finally starting to break as all the weight of her pint up grief was finally becoming to much to burden as she backed herself into a wall before sliding herself down to a sit, gently hugging her knees while holding the red halter tightly in her right hand as she rested her head down on her folded arms to just hide her face from the world....she started to softly sob...the young woman was finally letting herself grieve over the lost of her two fallen faithfuls....finally starting to let her heart heal once more.