Post by Dante on Apr 25, 2012 22:10:38 GMT -5
-------------------------
ROYAL ASSASSIN
workout with
ERIN TRUBELL[/b]
-------------------------
[/center]
[/color][/b]
Keep it going, keep fighting. A couple setbacks was nothing. Erin didn't take nonperformance well, but the wispy, speedy little colt was going to do well, she was sure. He was not going to fail. He was her little champ. "You're gonna be good, aren't you?" Se asked the bay colt, kissing his nose. He yanked his face away, and she laughed. "I'll take that as a 'yes but don't embarrass me, okay?'" She rolled her shoulders and stretched, before looking over at Skylark.
"Ready?" He asked, walking forwards and taking hold of Royal Assassin. Erin didn't answer, instead she clambered onto Prince's back. The colt danced a little, but Erin was situated quickly and easily. "Give it the best you got." He advised, then smiled. "Not that you give it anything less, ever."
The bay colt and redhead jockey headed for the gate at a brisk trot. She could feel him pulling on the bit, fighting for a bit more control. She only grinned. He'd get his chance to run, he need not worry about that. They went into the gate with little trouble, albeit excessive head tossing and yanking on the bit nonstop, trying to pull it out of his mouth. Erin figured she'd bring up the idea of using a flash on him, but for now she had only one focus. Their next run was to be eight furlongs, across the dirt track. It was time to get rolling. She'd keep him in front, but just. Just enough to tease the other horses that he was losing, then gave it a burst no one expected at the very end. That was how they rolled, or, really, ran.
The gate sprung open, and Prince broke fast. There was no such thing as breaking slow. He either broke fast or...he was dead, she supposed. Erin brought him right to the rail, confident in his ability not to get boxed. He'd be able to stay out of that, he was certain. The dirt flew up against Prince's chest and up against her torso too, but the horse didn't seem to mind, nor did jockey. It was uncomfortable when dirt got in one's bra, but thankfully PHS had ordered silks that fit her this time and she didn't have that issue anymore, nor did she look like she grew two feet in a day wearing too-small silks.
Prince towed a little on the reins, and Erin made sure not to let that get the better of her. He was a one-track minded colt, and when he ran he zoned out from everything else. Her job was being the awareness, the pilot. Prince just broke and ran. She had to work with it.
She help him steady leading up to and around the bend, grinning as she turned the corner sharp again. There was some bizarre thrill in pulling off what others could not do, there was always some amusement she took from teasing death and men alike. It shaved seconds off Prince's time, anyways, it wasn't a pointless bell and whistle. The corner brought them out at the last two furlongs, and Erin let the tugging colt have his head. He took off, though she added the stick for good measure and he added more speed. She could hear his hooves, feel the dirt spraying up in her face, and she reached up quick to change her goggles so she could see, and rode. This was what she lived for! Speed! The risk! The everything about it. Once you got on, you were committed. No more could be said or done about it. You had better stay on the damn horse. You were committed.
They passed the eight furlong marker, covered in upturned dirt, and returned to Skylark.
"No dirt down your bust?" He asked, sounding amused.
"Wouldn't you like to check." Erin replied coyly, but with a roll of her eyes. "No, there's not, thank you. How's the time?"
"Good. We're in a good spot." Skylark said with a grin. "And no, I wouldn't like to check, I do have a lady-friend, thanks."-----------------------
WORKOUT STATS
words| 683
workout surface| Dirt
distance| 8 furlongs
horse| Royal Assassin
jockey| Erin Trubell
[/blockquote][/blockquote]
