the-man-who-loved-a-mare

[the-man-who-loved-a-mare]

[the-man-who-loved-a-mare]

Training Challenge #4: Make a Friend

@thescorpioracesfestival, this is a collaboration with @the-man-who-loved-a-mare

Freya felt quite bad for leaving so much of the vet work to grandpa. October was usually quite a busy month for them, with all the damage the capaill uisce was doing, both the racehorses and the wild ones that came up from the sea. This year was no exception. What was an exception this year was Freya herself. Since she had written her name on the board in the butchers shop, the other riders had decided they didn’t want her to tend to their horses. As if she would deliberately hurt the horses just to sabotage for the other riders. Freya was more than a little offended by the fact that people could ever believe such a thing. The older islanders wasn’t too rude about it, they might be pigheaded and refused her near their capaill uisce, but at least they let grandpa tend to them. The tourist that were racing were far worse, and Freya was quite certain that they would have refused grandpas help as well if they had just been clever enough to realize Freya was his granddaughter. Luckily for their income, most of them didn’t make the connection between old Dr. Connor the vet, and the name Freya Thorne written on a blackboard.

So, Freya was left doing all the work grandpa didn’t have time. And today that meant visiting a part of Thisby she’d rarely been to. She’d accompanied grandpa to many of his customers, but not all of them, and never to the Willis farm. But there had been a lame sheep, and grandpa hadn’t had time to go, so here she was, pulling up to a small farm in their rusty old pickup truck and jumping down in the mud.

There were no sight of the boy who had contacted her, nor of any sheep, so Freya poked her head into the windswept barn in hopes they’d be inside, hiding from the October weather. They weren’t. The barn was empty of any living thing, and a part of her brain registered that it smelled rather more like it did in Corax stable, than it did in a sheep barn. But it wasn’t until she walked around the corner and saw a black uisce mare and a boy, holding a struggling sheep, that she connected the name Willis with the name she had seen on the butcher’s board, Jaxom Willis – Saoirse. This was another rider in the races.

Jaxom Willis had brown hair and a scar running across his face. He looked vaguely familiar, Freya had probably seen him in Skarmouth sometime, but she’d never spoken to him before.

When she got closer, he put the ewe down, which promptly tried to escape from the nearby capall uisce but was stopped by the rope tying it to a stake in the ground, and walked to meet her. The black mare followed him, looking like she’d very much have them both for dinner, but before she could do more than moan, Jaxom turned to her with a stern “no” and shooed her away. The offended look the mare gave him reminded Freya very much of Green, the barn cat, when Freya stopped her from hunting birds, and she had to hold back a chuckle.

Jaxom tuned back to her, shook her hand in greeting and started leading her back to the sheep as he talked,

“I’m Jaxom. That,” he nodded at the uisce mare, “is Saoirse. She’s lovely but, uh. Don’t touch her. Sorry we have to do this here, usually I’d have us in the barn to get out of the wind, but my ewe won’t go in there, even if Saoirse’s shut in the paddock. Smells too much like her I suppose. I have us on this side of the pasture since the fence blocks the majority of the wind, but neither one of them are too happy about it.”

Freya could see that. The ewe was almost frantic with fear of the predator looming on the other side of the fence, and the mare still looked deeply offended that she hadn’t been allowed to eat Freya. They stopped by the ewe and Jaxom continued speaking,

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name. We usually work with Dr. Connor, but I know he’s too busy with the Races this year to deal with this.”

“Freya. Thorne. She’s a beauty” She smiled at Jaxom and gestured to the mare, who currently had her ear pinned back, glaring at both Freya and the sheep. It was evident in Jaxoms voice when he spoke of her that he loved the capall uisce, and besides, she was gorgeous with those blue eyes, “and this is fine, our sheep wouldn’t go into Corax stable either. Uhm, Corax is my capall. He’s the reason I’m not down at the beach helping. Apparently, no one wants another competitor near their horses.” She couldn’t help rolling her eyes as she said the last bit, as she was still quite annoyed by it.

Freya kneeled beside the frightened ewe stroking her neck and talking softly to calm her down. The ewe stopped trying to escape and her eyes weren’t quite as frantic as before, but she was still tense, and very aware of the capall, but Freya supposed there was no avoiding that.

Apparently, Jaxom didn’t train down at the beach when the other riders where there either, and so he hadn’t heard she was racing this year. He didn’t seem bothered by the fact that another rider was tending to his sheep’s though, and that, in combination with his obvious love for the uisce mare, made Freya decide that she liked him.

The ewe, as it turned out, had stepped on a small piece of a nail, that had embedded itself in her hoof. Luckily, it hadn’t gone deep in, enough for it to be painful for the sheep to step on, but not enough that it had caused any severe damage. Freya managed to get the nail out, and clean the wound. She put on a bandage to keep any dirt out and told Jaxom to keep an eye on it, but hopefully it should be healed up enough that the bandage shouldn’t be necessary in just a few days.

While she’d been examining and treating the ewes’ hoof, she and Jaxom had discussed the races and Jaxom had told her that he was competing to be able to keep Saoirse, since his family didn’t want him to have a capall. Freya had been overwhelmed by a feeling of sudden gratitude towards her grandparents, who not only had allowed her to tend to an injured uisce mare, but also to keep baby Corax and who had helped and supported her every step of the way in raising a capall uisce in their barn. She couldn’t imagine what she would do if they hadn’t let her keep Corax, if she had had to fight every step of the way not to lose him. She really hoped Jaxom and Saorise would make it through the races, and that his parents would be convinced.

When the sheep was done, Freya left the small farm with a smile on her face and the feeling that, maybe, she had gained a new friend.

Masterlist

[the-man-who-loved-a-mare]

Training Challenge #3

“Based on my experience on the beach the day before, I form a new plan.”

His parents hadn’t taken the news well. This was no surprise, considering he’d only managed to convince them he was keeping the ebony capall, that currently chuffed beseechingly at him for her breakfast, this long so as to sell her for more during the first week of October, when tourists and townsfolk alike would pay more than was reasonable for any horse, let alone one that looked at you more as dinner than a friend. Yet his name was now scrawled onto the Gratton’s chalkboard and beside it Saoirse, so despite their upset, there was nothing they could do now. They were racing.

            He’d risen early this morning, early enough that the sun had yet to paint the sparse fields with morning light, and his father, a farmer all his life (with the schedule of one too) still snored soundly in the bedroom down the hall. Stealthily, Jaxom had stolen from the house to feed the dark predator that resided in their barn, and he watched her now as she swallowed, black muzzle stained crimson by the blood in her meal. It should have perturbed him, watching the capall as she ate, looking less and less like a horse with each passing day as the autumn ocean called to her, yet the man felt nothing but love blooming in his chest for the creature before him. She had crawled out of the sea for him, that much he was certain of.

            As Saoirse finished her breakfast, he busied himself with preparing her tack, pulling out the bridle hung with red tassels and the sheepskin he used in place of a saddle from the small room at the side of the single stall barn. Technically, he wasn’t supposed to know how to ride – his parents had forbidden it, in the hopes of preventing him from association with the deadly capaill and the Races. However, his Aunt Gwennie, lover of island ponies and flouter of rules, had taught Jaxom when he was still a boy upon her own steady steed, encouraging and enabling until he’d become a passable rider. He’d never be one of the people who looked like they were born to ride, a seamless blend between horse and man – he lacked the physical awareness for it. He’d always been a little not at home in his body – while his peers had kicked balls and run around at school, Jaxom was lucky if he made it to the classroom door without tripping. Yet with Saorise, everything was different – when he was astride her, he felt right. Her legs felt like his own, and together he knew they could take on anything.

            Yesterday Jaxom and Saoirse had merely observed the fray on the beach from the cliffs, his precocious mare squealing and pinning her slender ears in displeasure if any of the capaill down below had the audacity to look her way. That was why they made their way down so early today, attempting to avoid the crowds that would irritate the capall that now jigged beside him, the bells on her bridle jingling softly as she moved, anxious and excitable this close to the water. He shed his boots and the sheepskin on a boulder where they did not risk getting wet, and then barefooted he brought Saoirse down towards the beach.

            Her curved ears pricked, attention turning toward the ocean, tension visible in the triangle of her eye and sharpness of her shoulder as she took a step towards the surf.

“Easy now beloved.” Jaxom soothed, using his free hand to trace gentle circles on her shoulder, the other holding the reins as if he didn’t believe she would pull away. Saoirse snorted and gave her head a toss as if shaking away the enchantment of the Scorpio Seas, turning her blue eyes back to the human before her. He smiled in return, bending down to cup a handful of sea water, sprinkling the salty wet across her dark hide. Playfully, the mare pawed at the sandy ground, spraying salt water and wet sand across both their legs. Laughing, Jaxom splashed at her in return, tossing his own head and snorting back at her. The mare straightened up, as if offended, then pranced a few more paces into the surf, forcing Jaxom to release his grip on her reins or get wet. He allowed her to drag him a few paces, until the freezing water lapped around his calves. “Okay my love, that’s enough now.” He warned, turning her so she faced cliffside, away from the allure of the open ocean.

The ebony capall made a soft, sorrowful sound in return, peering at him beseechingly, the yearning in her heart present in every muscle. She wanted him to follow her into her own world, where the song of the ocean invigorated her every step. When he insisted, she reluctantly followed, thin black mane disappearing against her arched neck as the spray wetted it down.

He brought her back up to the boulder, where he redonned his boots and threw the sheepskin across her back, using the elevated stone surface to mount. She was slick and sinuous beneath him, one ear flicked to him but the other never leaving the ocean.  The sun was starting to rise now, staining the beach and waters around them scarlet, a promise of carnage to come. Jaxom exhaled, Saoirse’s excitement filling his own body. Much to her chagrin he held her back, trotting and circling as the sun continued to rise, ensuring her body was soft and supple beneath him. Finally, as the red light of sunrise melted into the softer glow of daylight he let her loose, and together they ran.

@thescorpioracesfestival

[the-man-who-loved-a-mare]

Training Challenge #2

“She’s moody and she’s slippery and she’s in love with the sea.”

Sooner or later, he would have to tell his parents what he’d just done in Skarmouth, but for the moment Jaxom let his feet carry him towards the comfort of their small barn, the very same place where he’d first met Her.

It was a cold February night, and rain sluiced down in sheets, chilling the bare hands of the man who spent the last few hours helping a ewe struggling to lamb. He’d taken over lambing duty for his father two year prior, and this was not the first time he’d spent a night out amongst the sheep and straw. The ewe had managed to deliver two healthy lambs, although the process had taken longer than Jaxom felt comfortable with, and now he rushed to get them back outside with the flock. Perhaps, on another island, the single stall barn would have been suitable for the new mother to overnight, but on Thisby Jaxom’s concern about what the storm may dredge up from the depths was not unfounded.

As soon as the lambs had dried, stood, and nursed, the man ushered them out of the old stone barn to rejoin the flock in the corral outside, despite the downpour. As the sheep merged into one wet blur, Jaxom forged his way through the rain to the gate, swinging it open and watching as his flock rushed out and melted into the darkness. It was safer for them to have room to run, over the confinement of the corral. In the morning, he would locate them, and with any luck both new lambs would have made it. It was harsh, yes, but to survive out here you had to be. Exhaling slowly as the last white silhouette disappeared into the darkness, Jaxom turned back to the single stall barn to go clean up the bloody straw and afterbirth before anything lurking in the storm caught scent of it. An inhuman chuckle to his left alerted him he was too late, his body immobile as instinct took hold.

A quick assessment of his surroundings alerted him the sheep were out of sight, but it wouldn’t be much for the creature drawn by the scent of blood to follow them. On the other hand, if he made a sound now, it could be him on the menu. The young man didn’t give himself time to be afraid, he merely acted. Slinking down low to the ground, adrenaline pumping through his veins with every beat of his heart, he crept along the fence line, eyes scanning the area around him for the predator that he knew was out there. A grumbling groan from somewhere nearby cause him to freeze again, the sound of the rain drowned out by the sound of his thundering heart. As he got closer to the single stall barn the scent of the capall washed over him, salt, fish, and something that sent his heart into a frenzy. She was inside. Without thinking, Jaxom rushed forwards, slamming the dutch door and making sure both the top and bottom were fully latched. Inside, the beast began to keen and wail, the thrashing animal causing the entire building to shudder. She was caught.

Now, seven months later, in the very same stone barn and corral, she greeted him with a whicker as she galloped to the edge of the reinforced corral, tossing her head and rocking back on her hind legs for a moment before all four feet returned to the earth, pale eyes sharp upon the man as he entered her domain.

“Saoirse…” Jaxom breathed, reaching for the mare, running his hands down her muscular neck and pressing his cheek against hers and inhaling her warm, salty, fishy scent. Anyone who knew anything about the capricious capaill told him he was crazy, and he knew they were right. He trusted her with his own life far too much, but she’d given him no reason to doubt. Iron had no place in their relationship, and he liked to believe she loved him as dearly as he loved her.

“I’ve entered us in the Race beloved.” His voice was low as his hands worked rows of knots in threes and sevens into her thin mane. “It’s the only way I can convince them to let you stay here.” He explained, watching her as she stared at him with those intelligent eyes. He knew her well enough now to know as her attention turned, the magic of autumn ocean pulling her away from him. His heart clenched as his lithe black capall floated towards the furthest wall, her blue eyes fixed upon the horizon where he knew the ocean to be. She gave a low, mournful sound, turning to stare back at him intently.

Reaching into the pocket of his worn jacket, Jaxom pulled out a thin strip of raw mutton, tossing it to the mare. She snapped it out of the air, breathlessly fast. He smiled, moving to stand with a hand on her shoulder, following her gaze out over the horizon. “If we win…” he trailed off, not finishing the thought. “Don’t fret too much darling. The autumn will be over before you know it, and the sea won’t call so badly then.” Never turning his back on her, Jaxom retreated from her paddock, gazing at her fondly one last time before turning in the direction of his house, and the dismay he would face from his parents once they found out what he’d done.

@thescorpioracesfestival

[the-man-who-loved-a-mare]

Training Challenge #1

"Welcome to Thisby!"

Jaxom pushed his russet hair from his face, hands brushing the scar that zig-zagged from his hairline down to his chin. It was stretched and faded now, but the stares it got him never seemed to lessen. Especially now, as tourists began to flood the town and beaches, the unfamiliar faces gaped and turned to their city-dressed companions to whisper under their breath as he passed. It fazed him less now than it had when he was a child, turning to burrow his face into his mother’s woollen skirts. Now, the young man had the confidence to ignore the whispers, no acknowledgement given to those who pierced the comforting vale of his island home to turn their lives into a spectacle.

His tumultuous thoughts didn’t settle as he strode back home, mindlessly following the familiar paths he’d been treading since he learned to walk. His foray to Skarmouth had taken longer than usual, as his attention piqued and pulled at the store fronts, baubles and decorations already finding homes in preparation for the Races on the first of November.

Usually, the autumn months came and went without much change for the Willis family. Isolated high up amongst the rolling hills and fields of Thisby, most years the family of sheepherders simply prepared their flocks for winter, allowing the grit and the glamour of the Races to pass them by. Occasionally, his mother, and the sister six years his junior, Maeve, would make their way down to the town to sell spun wool and yarn to the tourists for prices that made them giggle and dance with glee, but Jaxom always found himself pulled away into tending the flock by his father. Twenty-three years on the island, his entire life, and never once had Jaxom made it to the festivities, let alone the Races. When he was younger, the boy had begged and pleaded year after year for his parents to permit him to attend, “just once, just for a day, an hour, please!”

Once, in the autumn of his twelfth year, the sheep had strayed far from their usual fields, and Jaxom, the ever-attentive shepherd, followed, trailing behind his wandering flock until verdant pastures fell away into sheer cliffs and where they made landfall the soft sand of the beach met the dark waters of the October ocean. Far below him, Jaxom could make out the tiny shapes of riders and capaill as they trained, so small they seemed more like the toys laid out on his bedroom floor than living and breathing beings. Entranced, the boy had turned his attention to the beaches, watching as stories of life and death and glory played out beneath him. The soft sounds of the surf breaking against the shore filled his mind, the ‘shh, shh, shh’ of waves delighting his youthful ears in an unfamiliar way. His reverie was only broken when he felt the rough hands of his father hauling him away from the cliff’s edge, and as he looked up into the darkening sky the realization he’d been absorbed for hours shook him.

The fallout was spectacular. His parents, usually calm and loving, had seethed, his father colossal in his rage. His mother wept and wailed, and made him promise over and over he would never do such a thing again, that he wouldn’t even think about the capaill and the Scorpio Sea. Jaxom promised. He stopped begging after that.

Always an honest man, Jaxom had done right by his promise, dutifully attending the flocks year after year while the festivities passed him by. This year, however, was the year he would break that promise. He hadn’t really meant to, nor did he particularly want too, but a late February storm had brought the best thing in his life to him, and racing was the only way he stood a chance at keeping her.

Thank you to @the-seething-child for sketching Jaxom for me!

@thescorpioracesfestival

[the-man-who-loved-a-mare]

Rider Jaxom James Willis with his capall mare Saoirse @the-man-who-loved-a-mare (aka @anyone-lived)

@thescorpioracesfestival

THE SCORPIO RACES FESTIVAL 2023

At the top it says JOCKEYS and then, to its right, CAPAILL. Someone has written meat in small letters next to JOCKEYS. And then, beneath all of that, there is a gap, and then the names begin.

If you’re participating in the Character Challenges, sign up as a Rider.

Reblog this post with your character’s full name, your capall’s name, and your url. Or fill out this Google Form.

Introduction & Challenges | AO3 Collection | Rules | Ask

[the-man-who-loved-a-mare]

The Scorpio Races Festival 2023: Introduction & Challenges

From the sea, to the sea.

GETTING STARTED

Make sure you’re following​ @thescorpioracesfestival​

If you’re participating in the Character Challenges, sign up by reblogging the Rider Post.

Refer to the Character Challenge Posts for prompts and schedule.

Include the challenge number and title in your posts.

Tag each post with the official tags (#TSRF2023 and #thescorpioracesfestival) and mention @thescorpioracesfestival.

New this year! Consider posting your entries to our AO3 collection!

You can plan ahead or catch up later, but try to post during the specified week (and not before) so we can all enjoy things together!

Complete Rules

Character Challenges

Week One: Sign Ups & Beach Training | Oct 1 - 11

Reading Challenge: Prologue - Chapter 27

Training Challenge #1: Welcome to Thisby!

Introduce your rider. Are they from Thisby, the mainland, or farther abroad? Why are they racing?

Training Challenge #2: “She’s moody and she’s slippery and she’s in love with the sea.”

Describe your capall uisce. What challenges does your rider face with this one?

Training Challenge #3: “Based on my experience on the beach the day before, I form a new plan.”

How did your rider’s first day of training go?

Week Two: The Festival | Oct. 12 - 18

Reading Challenge: Chapter 28-44

Training Challenge #4: Make a Friend

Are they an islander, a tourist, or another rider? How do you meet?

Training Challenge #5: “By my blood.”

What challenges does your rider face going into the Festival?

Training Challenge #6: Explore the Festival

How does your rider navigate the Festival? What do they do before and after the Riders Parade?

Week Three: Cliff Training | Oct. 19 - 25

Reading Challenge: Chapters 45-56

Training Challenge #7: “Racing is about more than riding.”

What is your rider learning about racing, especially on a capall uisce?

Training Challenge #8: Home & Family

What motivates your rider to compete in the races? Who do they have behind them cheering them on?

Training Challenge #9: Obstacles

Training continues—how does it go for your rider? Have they made any enemies on the beach?

Week 4: The Races | Oct. 26 - Nov. 1

Reading Challenge: Chapters 57-66

Training Challenge #10: "On horseback, it's easy to be certain."

Write about the final days leading up to the races. Does your rider feel ready? Is their capall going to listen to them?

Training Challenge #11: "It's not much farther. Only three furlongs, maybe. I don't want to hope, but I can feel it pumping through me."

Create a post about the races!

Training Challenge #12: After the Races

What does your rider do once the races are over?

Creative Challenges

Challenges can be done in any order at any time throughout the Festival! And don’t let this limit you; if there’s something you want to create and share for the Festival, please do!

Creative Challenge #1: Wayfaring

Sketch, describe, or otherwise create a map of Thisby.

Creative Challenge #2: Cosplay

Describe, create, photograph, or draw an outfit you would wear while touring, working, or riding about Thisby.

Creative Challenge #3: Mainland Radio

Create a soundtrack for the Races, Festival, or Thisby in general.

Creative Challenge #4: Your Capall

Create a capall! Use one of the provided templates, or draw or edit your own.

Creative Challenge #5: November Cakes

Thisby is full of wonderful food—November cakes, cinnamon twists, apple cakes and chainsaw, and tea! Make something Thisby-inspired and share.

Creative Challenge #6: Moodboards

Make a moodboard inspired by the book or your character.

Creative Challenge #7: Charms

What items do you use to protect yourself during race season?

Creative Challenge #8: The Festival

Make a mask, souvenir, or other item that you could get at the Festival!

[the-man-who-loved-a-mare]

Steffi Mertz Photography

[the-man-who-loved-a-mare]

[the-man-who-loved-a-mare]

[the-man-who-loved-a-mare]

I should have let go…but  didn’t by ewitsoe

[the-man-who-loved-a-mare]

that is the most unhappy marwari i’ve ever seen!

[the-man-who-loved-a-mare]

Black Caviar. 

[the-man-who-loved-a-mare]

[x]

[the-man-who-loved-a-mare]