by kortico » Fri Nov 04, 2016 11:23 am
Username: slit
Name: harlequin girls // quinn (or harley)
Gender: Mare
Her backstory: (557 words)
Quinn was born to a well-accomplished mare, and the daughter of a stallion who was raised high on golden trophies and more than four-digit checks. A soft-colored filly was rare to come from this breeding program, so many fell quickly in love with her. She was curious yet afraid and for the few weeks of life hid behind her mother's legs, who was caring and patient. When she became big enough to be let out in the fields with the other foals, it was never hard for Quinn to get along with them, though often she was chosen to be pushed to the bottom of the totem pole. As foal fur shed and she grew into a young mare, her future seemed very promising. Training was not hard and the mare learned incredibly quickly, showing she was more intelligent and willing to learn than the other young geldings and fillies. Many of her handlers were confident she would follow the same path her parents did, taking home winning titles from confirmation and tölting competitions. And, for the first handful of years after training ended, she did just that. An accomplished but still amateur mare, Harley -as others had also begun to call her- was getting her name quickly recognized in the showing Bashmoor community. At the age of seven, she would be entering one of the most important shows of her career, one that would take her to a more professional level. From all over the nation, many others had gathered to the same indoor arena, on all sides curved by stadium seats, lights from the ceiling glowing strong. There were countless other equines gathered there, not particularly for the same section Harley would be performing in, but a good majority of them were. Other horses did not bother her, neither did the noise or the change of scenery, that morning she seemed very calm and focused, as she had the day before when they arrived. However, the seemingly giddy mood the team of humans was in would have drastically changed mere hours later. Her rider and her took to the arena very well, not minding the other competitors when they would be passed or have to pass them. The air was heavy and hot inside, still, and did not do Quinn well. With quickly falling energy and foam dripping from her mouth to her legs, Harley had begun to turn onto a corner when she was asked into a tölt, and her legs simply tangled up in one another as she went down, throwing her rider to the side as she, too, had the ground seemingly slip out from under her and the weight of her body went atop her rider's. Thankfully the rider was unharmed, but Harley had extended muscles in both of her front legs and had hit her skull hard off of the packed dirt. For what seemed like months she was in extreme pain, meekly standing in the corner of her stall, visibly uncomfortable or preferring to lay down. When Harley had healed, she seemed to have changed. The patient mare they all knew now lunged at other horses and now has to stay separated, and fights against handlers bringing her to and fro. She only seems content when in the largest field by her own, unfortunately torn from her bright future.
