walk with the devil [Frosty]

[*Ripley*]

Ripley's crew was going to have a big week at Green Horse Fields. She was pretty confident the racing world hadn't seen the best she had to offer. Her horses were cranking out powerful victories left and right, giving everyone trouble everywhere. Especially her older horses. When Witch Creek had started off, they'd mainly had two year olds. But then horses were purchased and spilled in from outside stables. Fiery Touch, Dazzling Dame, Frozen Motion, Screaming Mimi and Ashes to Ashes were gunning for the win. All of them had won last time out and that was what Ripley called a raging success. However, there were other things on the head trainer's mind.

She had her relationship with Brookson Wells, Maggie's growing addiction to partying and alcohol and bringing Justin Santiago into a racing world that could both amazingly wonderful and despairingly cruel. Ripley had left behind her friends at the race track with their charges. She really wasn't needed at the moment. The 30 year old woman sighed from the back of her powerful steed and she really and truly wasn't kidding when she thought so.

The Devil's Touch marched quietly through the grass that was spread thinly over the trail. Not enough people took advantage of the trails at Green Horse Fields which was a down right shame. Ripley patted the filly's thickly muscled shoulder. She tossed her black mane and snorted. Justin and Ripley had been working with the mare to get her to be a suitable riding horse for the farm. The Devil didn't want to be a mother for Witch Creek, but they didn't need a useless horse on the farm. Instead she would become a lead mare during yearling training and a parade horse. Ripley was also going to be giving up jockeying in three years and would need a horse to train aboard. She loved to race and was a very good jockey, but it was just so tiring now. And she would need to settle down eventually.

With who, Ripley wasn't sure. However, when she closed her eyes, Brooks' face flashed before her.The man was fantastic to her and he was her rock for the moment. He had never gone through any troubling times with her so it wasn't like she would find out until anything happened. And she hoped nothing did happen. The auburn haired woman glanced about the path. Her bright green eyes scanning the peaceful scenery.

It was too nice a day to think about retirement and all of the problems in the world. She needed company and young company at that. The Devil pawed the earth when Ripley halted her. The six year old was also in need of some youthful companionship as well.

[S u N f r O s t ~]

MERCURIAL MAGIC AND VALENCIA ANDREWS

She was on board a hot rod with no directions whatsoever except to get a good ride in, left to her own discretion to fabricate. The longer stirrups of the default saddle left Valencia sitting comfortably in the saddle, her heels down and her legs, for once, loose - but tight on the barrel of the great three year old she rode right now. Mercurial Magic, the gorgeous dark bay three year old who was her ticket to the top. He had returned to the track in all his glory and then been conditioned for a month by her before actually racing. He hadn't won yet, but man was the horse trying. The sheen in his eyes after every race echoed the one in her own and Valencia could find no other horse in the barn she liked better. Merc was hers and she saw herself in the horse. They both had ambitions to be at the top. This hot headed bay was ages behind his stablemates, but there was potential here. Such was the case with Valencia as well. She was the underdog, the new rider on the block, and she had a lot to prove.

Her smirk was as arrogant as the tilt of Merc's head as they plunged down the trail she had picked on a whim. All of them returned to the same spot so she wasn't worried about getting lost. Her smirk remained as Merc ate up the loose rein without trying, stretching out his nearly seventeen hands high body as he gobbled up the ground into the canter. His stride was mercurial - fast and quick, ever changing, with a steady beating heart for an engine. Valencia took the wheel and guided him carefully, her sharp light brown eyes taking in the ground and picking out the best path. Merc had been a mystery to her for some reason. She thought she knew how to ride him...but there was something she was missing. That was why she had raced him so often in the past two months. She had wanted to figure him out. Eventually Amber had stopped her, insisting Merc needed some rest and promising her that a good trail ride would reveal more than any race would.

Merc snorted and tried his best to annoy Valencia by slowing on purpose, snapping to a near stop or breaking his stride, just enough to unseat her before picking it right back up again. It was working, but Valencia colored her emotions blank and simply just rode Merc on. A dark shape was ahead of them, up front there, walking it seemed on the grass that the dirt path had become. Valencia sighed. Perhaps some companionship would help her out with Merc. She was too bold to hang back and not approach this rider. And...that was definitely Ripley Marsh. Amber had a picture of the woman on a sticky note in the tack room. It was a hobby. Picture, stable name, special note next to name. It was how Amber stalked her competition. And Amber was always stalking Witch Creek.

Valencia didn't care if Ripley didn't want company. She simply slowed Merc and marched right into her midst aboard the hot headed bay. Hi she said simply, grinning. You're Ripley Marsh, right? Owner of Witch Creek?

[*Ripley*]

The Devil's Touch was Ripley Marsh's horse. Yes she had failed the grade three mare miserably by bowing out of her career, but it had spared her the loss of The Devil later on. El Sol del Mar was the people's horse. She had been since she had started her racing career. Ripley would own only three of the chestnuts foals by Y13. Her foals were spread out and belonging to three other stables besides Witch Creek. The Devil's first two reluctant foals were Witch Creek's and the last was promised to Stride of Perfection Stables in honor of their boarding of the boyish filly in Ripley's absence.

The Devil swung her rump in her original fierce cockiness. The dark bay tossed her head and danced sideways. She was a true barn horse, but she did remember her old days on the race track. When she had romped and commanded attention just because of her raw talent and inescapable speed. She snorted and flattened her ears back into her thick black mane. Tossed her tail energetically about. She was a true race horse. And she would always be Ripley's top two year old filly. Ripley patted the filly's neck and tensed as The Devil did.

Ripley and The Devil were always quick about noticing a potential opponent. The bay swung around, ears flat and snorting of her own accord. She didn't like to be caught unawares. There was still enough wildness in her to take note of the enemy. Ripley noted the new rider, cat green eyes narrowed. She had seen this rider and horse many times. Brookson kept beating her on the steed she rode today with Ashes to Ashes. And the horse had once been Ripley's promising colt. Once anyway.

Mercurial Magic looked absolutely impressive and she had to admit she'd been pleased when the horse had ended up in Stride of Perfection Stable's capable hands. Though she wasn't sure if she approved of the new rider so much. If she saw Henna or Amber around perhaps she would make a small comment, but that was only if this woman didn't please her.

And then of course the girl spoke her name and her position. The woman lifted her brows and The Devil bowed her neck, tensing up beneath her rider. Ripley was giving off some of her usual defensiveness. It was her test. That is just among one of the things I am. Don't make me sound so fancy please. Ripley loved the horse, but she was wary of the rider. Merc was a good yearling and two year old. He has talent. Ripley pursed her lips and grinned at the hot-headness. Had he lasted with Witch Creek he would have suited the entire string.

You're Valencia Andrews. New rider at SOPS and main jock of this tall handsome horse. The Devil snorted at Ripley's mocking attitude and was pleased that her rider wasn't going to give in easily to the brawny horse and his bold rider. The Devil firmly planted herself in the middle of the path, ears flat. She would keep them here as long as Ripley said to. And would more than willingly bury them in the dust if asked. Competition fueled her.

[S u N f r O s t ~]

There were specks of fire in that fine mare and Valencia saw it reflected in the rider herself. She smirked, not bothering to curve her real emotions. If Ripley couldn't handle who Valencia was, well, too bad. Valencia would stop at nothing to get to the top. She didn't care if she made enemies along the way with her bold and, at times, cold attitude. She had the talent to get to where she wanted and knew it. She definitely didn't know everything yet, but she had Amber Black taking care of her. Amber Black, the very top stable owner in Valencia's opinion. She could not do any better and she deserved nothing but the best.

And the best was Mercurial Magic. She had watched the hothead's emphatic win in the Unicorn Horn Juvenile. That had been over a year ago. And she wasn't letting that talent slip away. She had to command the colt's fluidity, channel that inner energy. She just had to work harder. She would accept nothing less than what she could fully do. There was nothing else to her life now but this. And it was obvious that the person Valencia faced with now had fire in her heart as well. Her mare was radiant with it. The Devil's Touch. Valencia recalled the picture of the mare, with Amber Black astride, sometime during the filly's three year old season when the Devil had briefly become hers. What a picture it was, what a moment to remember. And now she was faced with the very mare herself. Valencia took a moment to look over the mare, her eyes appreciatively taking it all in. What a powerhouse.

Though the horse she rode was similarly powerful, and Valencia didn't back down from challenges. Even if Merc was so far a one-win wonder, they didn't back down. And right now, it seemed to Valencia that Ripley was a bit touchy. She kept her face expressionless as Ripley rebounded with a sharp comment. It was clear to Valencia that something was going on here. She recalled that Merc had once been Ripley's and wondered if that had something to do with what was going on here. Jealousy? Such a thing didn't seem to fit with what she knew of the Witch Creek owner. Some verbal sparring would be necessary to disengage the truth of the matter.

Then the woman moved on to acknowledge the talent of Merc. Valencia didn't restrain her smirk. He hasn't just got talent. He's got the power of a dozen horses and enough spirit to set fire to the barn. Her tone was light, but at the same time hard-edged. You don't need to assure me of his talent. I have no need of assurance of anything to do with Merc. Her hand fingered the black mane of her dark bay colt, who responded to the Devil's competitve call with a sudden trumpeting cry and the flaring of his nostrils, glaring of the eyes as he prepped for more. He was ready to obliterate this challenger. All he needed was ther word.

Heard of me, have you? That's good. You've got the facts straight - Merc's my only concrete ride. Valencia essentially exuded confidence and she was fully aware of that. And once again it didn't bother her. She was brazen by nature, truly.

[*Ripley*]

Well at least this one had balls. And they weren't the crazy type either, not like Amber. Ripley sighed and The Devil let out a huff and relaxed beneath her rider. Her eyes still blazed with a fire at the pumped up colt before her. She wasn't too impressed with the youngster. She'd attempted to kill two of her foals and fight with the stallions at Witch Creek. An egotistical three year old didn't bother the mare in the least. Plus she could run him straight into the ground if need be. He may still be racing, but he wasn't at her level and to see The Devil and many of her fans, Merc would never reach that level. The Devil flattened her ears and whisked her tail over her rump, ready to move on, but always willing to listen to Ripley's opinion of the situation.

Ripley's sharp eyes flickered at the bravery of this girl. She was impressive. A little and Ripley saw herself in Valencia before the accident that had shut her down completely. Her tongue was particularly eager to cut out sarcastic comments, but she held it in. Valencia went on a rant about Mercurial Magic and Ripley smiled. Mercurial Magic had been a good colt when he'd been at the barn, but for some reason, Ripley hadn't wanted him back. She still couldn't pin-point it, but maybe he had always meant to be Stride of Perfection's runner and Valencia's "concrete" horse.

Ripley sat in silence. She was not bothered by quiet. Horses lived in the quiet and lived off of gestures to keep them alive. Ripley stroked The Devil's dark neck. Valencia was brazen and it could be appreciated, but she wasn't exactly a good person for a first impression with her attitude. Ripley nodded curtly.

Yes, you're the rider that Ashes to Ashes keeps beating out on the track, Ripley stated, throwing in a jab. She had her own crew to worry about. Stride of Perfection's could keep a horse that was never meant to be hers. Ripley knew what it took to break up from the bottom. She'd ridden Strike The Win, Thanks for the Memories and Touch Up before they parented Winning Touch, The Devil and Fiery Touch. They had sucked on the track and then she'd snagged El Sol del Mar in the sale and ridden her to a powerful Hall of Fame career. But don't let these first losses get to you. I'm trying to get this kid of mine into a jock's career. I know what it is to be frustrated and angry that no matter how hard you try, you just can't get there. And the frustrations always continue. Just have to tough it out and not leave. Not like I did... Ripley thought to herself. It seemed today was a day for dealing with personal demons.

She lifted her green eyes to the girl, tossed her singular auburn braid over her shoulder. Whose your favorite horse to ever race? She needed a change of subject before she went down into her usual depression dumps. Usually a good adrenaline rush and light chatter could push the cloud away.

[S u N f r O s t ~]

The arrogance of the Devil...! Valencia found herself loving the fiery spirit - for some reason it just resounded with her deeply. She didn't like the quiet ones. She liked the ones pumping with blood and spirit and heart, always full of fire and ever brave. She would never click with a horse that was not that, not somewhat like her and full of that spirit she felt beating deep within. Merc was such a horse. He was meant to be hers. Like King had been for Amber. Like Classy had been for Krystal. Like Flash had been for Henna. Merc was hers. They were meant to be.

The silence after Valencia's words was not unwelcome, and she simply sat deeper in the saddle, checking Merc and keeping a wary eye on the Devil. The mare seemed contemptuous and intimidating, but Merc wasn't backing down and neither was she. Pride in her mount briefly swelled in her breast and her near permanent smirk reappeared. Cocky and confident. That was them. When the other woman threw in that jab she couldn't help but openly laugh. Yeah, Ashes To Ashes, that rising colt of yours. Rest assured, we'll get him eventually. I'm still learning Merc. And that was something she stated shamelessly. She didn't have to be perfect yet. She only had to know what one day she would be.

Ripley's sudden words of wisdom, almost sympathy, was a surprising shock to Valencia. At first, she wasn't sure how to respond. The frustrations of losing...hmm. To Valencia, frustration was not how she would describe her losses. Something innate told her that these losses just had to be temporary. As soon as she managed to crack Merc and Merc cracked her, things would start running smoothly. But rather than offer a snide remark suggesting otherwise, she merely nodded once, keeping her usually sharp tongue in check. It was rare that some person she hardly knew would offer such sage advice to her on a whim, especially one who, according to the history books, had always worked from the bottom up.

Green eyes met light brown and Valencia didn't dare break the gaze until Merc called her attention with another snort and a violent toss of the head. Her hand instantly reached and grabbed some mane, scratching briefly before letting go. Her signal for calm, as calm as a hot head could get. She seriously considered Ripley's question, mulling it over. Her favorite horse to race? I don't really have a favorite. My personal favorite is Dashing In The Firelight. Out of the Hall Of Fame inductees...Rising Fury, I suppose. That mare didn't take crap from anyone.

[*Ripley*]

Ripley didn't like being such a downer. It was one of the faults that Brooks disliked about her. She could snap, going from absolutely testy and amusing to being sad and distraught. She had so much to be happy about these days, but sometimes the happiness just died on the tip of her tongue. The Devil tossed her head and flicked her ears, sensing Ripley's mood change.

The day was beautiful and light with an edge of a storm that was heading their way. The Devil wanted to move and she stomped a hoof saying so. Ripley sat up straight, happy to oblige her impatient mare. She nodded to Valencia's question. Funny I thought you would have been an Impressario fan. Seems like everyone has a crush on that horse at SOPS. Like a disease. Ripley nudged her mare around in a circle facing the opposite direction. The Devil squealed excitedly and humped her back as if she were going to buck. Ripley simply lifted the reins up and the horse backed up enthusiastically and quickly until she was level with the giant Mercurial Magic.

Gods honest truth Valencia. The most famous horse I have ever ridden is El Sol del Mar, but the best horse to me is this one right here. Ripley said looking down at The Devil's Touch. A rider only finds one horse in their career that they can look back on and say that horse knew me like the back of my hand. We would have gone places together if I hadn't let her down. Ripley looked ahead, eyes narrowed. SOPS is getting her last foal. I believe by True Enough. Maybe Amber will let you ride him or her. Maybe you'll see just why I can make such a ridiculous statement as I have.

The woman asked the mare to trot forward. Will you join us or not? The Devil is in quite the ass-kicking mood today. I'm sure Merc will oblige her just fine. The mare swung over the dirt path, scattering leaves and animals as she passed. A queen in every phase of her life.

[S u N f r O s t ~]

Now that the attention was back on him, Merc snorted once and then surprisingly quieted down a bit, as though wanting to relish the world around him. His eyes rolled, taking in the sights while keeping tabs on the competitive mare at his side. She was beneath his attention for now. Merc was wholly focused on riding well for this new person and on learning her habits. They had spent too much time racing and not enough time riding and Valencia realized this with the sudden clarity that came from dunking one's head in a bucket of water. This was obvious. She needed more of this.

Ripley's next words seemed, to Valencia, a bit harsh. She had been face to face with Impressario and she had pored over his records. Ario deserved the greatness he had had, and sudden new loyalty to her boss and her stable led to her next, fiery words. From the way you make it sound, Impressario doesn't deserve the hype he gets. I'm not sure if you've noticed, but not only did he kick ass on the track but his foals do too. He's one of the keys to Amber's heart. I don't care what everybody else thinks about him. This isn't some silly Twilight addiction. This is the real thing. Valencia's words had been aggressive, but were edged with a sudden passion. It was impossible not to spend time at SOPS and learn to love the black stallion that had done so much. The fandom surrounding the stallion didn't bother the staff. They basked in it and found it truly deserving and genuine.

Valencia's face was essentially expressionless as Ripley turned her devil around. Bay Merc's muscles flexed as she whipped him around in turn to face the same direction without hesitation. She refused to let Merc be left behind or to be dismissed from the company of this rider unless she wanted to be, and she wasn't done yet. She listened now to Ripley's words and couldn't stop the dry smirk that flitted across her face. The most famous horses are never necessarily the best. I think you would know that. That horse of yours - Native Flame? He was pretty famous, but was he ever considered the best? Her snapping tongue stopped there, and she said the next words carefully, as though reminded of the years of experience between her and this other rider. Though I do understand your point she conceded.

And then she was taken aback by Ripley's next words. She barked a single laugh, genuinely grinning. Let me ride the Devil's foal? Amber rode that mare too. I'll be lucky to get without five feet. Though...the horse chooses the rider, in a way. Maybe I will get lucky and be given that opportunity. And as she said those words Valencia was still digesting what Ripley had already said, about the one horse that would become her soul. For Krystal, that horse was Passionate Class. For Henna, that horse was Pegasus Wings, and quickly becoming Flashy Wings as well. And for Amber, the choice was not as simple. She was lucky enough to have had several great partners in her life - Little Miss Innocent, Merry Bay King, Impressario - and now Infinite Warcry was keen on joining their ranks. For Valencia, there was only one right now - Mercurial Magic, the very first.

Valencia kept stride with the Devil before Ripley even invited her to join in on the ride. Ass-kicking mood? We'd be happy to give her more than that she shot back, but now a good humored smirk was on her face. Surprisingly, despite the occasionally rude dialogue between them, Valencia found herself growing to like some of Ripley's mannerisms, and they had barely gotten through this first conversation yet.