Hugo Mavericks despised Dressage First and foremost, did he hate the attire. Top hats and tail coats made him feel poncy and over-dressed, and clashed horribly with his wild, dark hair and rough personality. The uncomfortably tight jodhpurs forced his voice a pitch higher, and the high white collar felt tight against his throat Jessie sniggered as Hugo exited the change rooms; his cheerful green eyes raking over his friend’s outfit with utmost amusement. ‘You look like that Mad Hatter!’ Hugo glared and curled his lip, feeling rather foolish as he strode past the other man towards his shimmering bay stallion, already tacked in his expensive back kieffer, and his thick mane drawn up it tight bungles decorating the stallion’s massive neck Volcanic Ash was a sight for sore eyes indeed, but his current state of over-grooming was a far cry for the powerful animal spectators would watch in awe as he thundered down the cross country track. There was no make-up or gloss where the mountains led them; and that was the way Hugo liked it Hugo tugged irritably at his collar as he approached the glistening stallion, and Volly greeted his master eagerly with a nudge of his velvet muzzle. He cracked a small smiled and stroked his faithful companion’s face. ‘We’ll show those snobby dressage people a thing or two’ he muttered venomously, gathering Volly’s leather reins in his hands and leading him towards the dressage arena; his shoulders squared and his head held high Secondly, was the people. From personal experience, Hugo’s view of the dressage clique was a negative one. At any show or event he’d attended; his scruffy, mongrel Aussie horse tailing him obediently, premium bred warmbloods , tacked in only the most expensive of leather and craftsmanship, and smothered in top market coat oils dotted the stalls, while their riders stared down their noses at him as if he were something repulsive left on the floor to rot. Once, when was only just fifteen, he’d over-heard a conversation between two woman as they discussed his oh-so foreseeable future. Apparently, he was going to end up back in the gutter he’d managed to crawl his way out of That had stung Feeling second class wasn’t something Hugo was any stranger too. He’d been born in the back room of a run-down motor-in, and into a loveless world of drugs and abuse. Most days he didn’t eat, and most nights his bed was the cold cement and grunge of the side walk, while his mother whored herself out to men in the pubs in exchange for drugs and liquor Not money, and never anything to care for her tiny son; just drugs and liquor Now, as a grown man, in a place where he felt more at home than anywhere else in the world, he shouldn’t need to feel as if he didn’t belong. And that was something he needed to prove, if only to himself, and even if it did mean enduring Jessie’s teasing about his top-hat for the rest of his life Hugo mounted up just outside the gate, adjusting himself into the saddle before they entered the river-sand arena; and all eyes immediately diverted to him. Though, unlike so many times before, they weren’t scowls or grimaces; there was no one whispering to their partner’s behind their hands, or up-turned noses and head shakes. They watched in awe as the street brat and his feral horse stepped elegantly into their midst, as if that was exactly where they belonged They were trespassing, and it felt good Credits: - Pose Reference: equestrian.cyberhorse.com.au/i… - Shading Reference: ~KM-Photos(Unpublished) - Bird Brush: fav.me/d1swcy9
This has been sitting in my inbox for a while now, and I'm finally getting around to commenting! This looks really really lovely, Kurr, the detail in it is gorgeous I love the shine on his shoulder and the way his tail flows out behind him, and of course his beautiful, humongous neck! The bg has really beautiful detail and it all meshes together very naturally. Also, I loved the story, and poor poor Hugo :C Just makes you wanna give him a big ole hug Good luck at the show!