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Storyline folder "Breaking Point"
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Peter | March

“Why not the chestnut,” Peter said. “It’s turf, its spacious, it’s not technical - why the grey? I don’t understand it.”

James shrugged. He was sitting on the grey gelding Coppola, his mount of choice for the Grand Prix at Pemberley Show Park - a choice that his father could hardly fathom. On his cards, Hergest Ridge had been the clearly superior candidate for the day, but for some reason Jim had left the chestnut to Dick. While the younger rider was thrilled about the prospect of competing on his favourite horse, Peter could but shake his head. Obviously, Jim thought he knew it better. “I don’t just put all of my hopes on one horse,” he said as he put his jacket on. “Francis can win this just as well as Mike can.”

“As long as you remember the time allowed…” Peter pondered, crossing his arms. “I would almost say, you can cut the corner between seven and eight and go for--”

“Duly noted,” Jim interrupted. His eyes were cold as he turned away from his father and urged his gelding into a brisk rising trot.

Peter stuffed his hands into the pockets of his pants. Right. He’d forgotten they still weren’t on the best of terms... He wondered what he’d done wrong for his son to treat him like that. Disappointed, he shook his head and hobbled back to the fence. A glance on the crumpled-up starting list that he always carried around in his pocket told him that James would be called into the arena any minute now.

“Mr Crosby?”

Peter turned around to see a tall man address him. Reluctantly, he tore away from the fence to greet him, all while his mind was racing: was he supposed to know this man? He figured the face was familiar, but… where was a name memory when you needed it most? Thankfully, the other came to his relief and introduced himself. “Darcy,” he said as he took Peter’s hand firmly and shook it. “Do you think you have a few moments to speak about my… sister’s employment?”

Peter looked over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of James, but quickly focused on Mr Darcy again. “Yes, yes,” he hurried to answer. In reality, though, he had no idea what the man was talking about. An employment? Surely something of Catherine’s doing, wasn’t it? Peter tried to play it cool. “Right, I remember,” he began slowly.

“Georgiana,” Darcy helped him. “We agreed she would take on a position as groom at your facilities.”

Finally, something in Peter’s mind clicked. Right. That new girl. Now he remembered - she was supposed to join and support Carlotta as a show groom and hopefully take over her duties in due time so the redhead could be promoted. The Italian had been the first and only groom whom James’ antics had never deterred: A while ago, they had celebrated her one-year-anniversary at Crosby Stables, much longer than any girl had ever survived that position. She was too valuable an asset to lose, so after having “outgrown” the job of a groom, she would remain within the staff as an exercise rider.

While one rider after another was called into the arena for their round, Peter and Mr Darcy arranged that the girl would meet the Crosby staff tomorrow. The situation came in handy: Carlotta would show her many of the things she had to do at competitions, Georgiana would be able to assist her, still in relative comfort at her home stable, and after the competition was over, she would return to New York with them.

New groom, new luck, so to say. James better leave her alone.

After Mr Darcy had left, James was nowhere to be seen. Peter muttered something under his breath and hurried towards the competition arena as fast as his knee allowed. He hoped he wasn’t yet too late to witness his son’s round.

The space surrounding the arena was packed with spectators. Big grandstands bordered the turf field at two sides, but as those had filled up quickly, quite a number of visitors was lining the fence to watch the action. Peter had a hard time winding through them to reach the area where the rest of the team was waiting - craning his neck, he saw that James’ round was already underway.

All of a sudden, an alarmed murmur ran through the crowd. In the very moment that Peter reached the fence, a woman next to him gasped for air and a man wearing an HCL shirt threw his hands up in surprise.

He was just in time to watch his son fall.

It happened within a fraction of a second. Coppola lost his stride in the middle of the triple combination, took down half of the second jump, proceeded to trip over the poles only to crash into the left stand of the last oxer - and as he went down, James went down with him.

Peter’s heart nearly stopped. It was a proper mess: white legs flailing, the gelding rolled over his rider to wriggle himself out of the pile of wood, stepped on the bridle that had slipped off his head to cleanly snap the leather off, and took to his heels. Jim was still down, motionless between the poles that he’d crashed into.

Peter felt the urge to run into the arena, but some force held him frozen on the spot. His mind was racing. He stared blankly at the scene that was presenting itself to him, but all that he saw... was himself. Five years ago. When his own white stallion had almost crushed him to death. In the end, it had only been his knee that was beyond salvation - but nonetheless, nothing had been the same after that day. His stomach churned at the thought.

Paramedics were already swarming the field, hiding Jim from his vision. Two of them carried a stretcher, calling out orders, but their voices were far away, blurred and unintelligible - it felt as like cold water had engulfed him and clouded his hearing and vision.

As Jim was lifted onto the stretcher, Peter felt relief wash over him. He was awake. Barely, and clearly in shock, but he was awake. Half sitting and propped up on his elbows, he stared into the void.

Carlotta had in the meantime caught the gelding, and led him over to Peter. Thank goodness - he seemed alright, if not a little wired up from the fall. A thorough check-up would prove if he was really unscathed, but at least he had gotten up on his own and was walking normally.

Not so much his son. Peter felt sudden nausea hit him as he noticed that they’d stabilized his leg. As Jim was carried by, their eyes met. Little emotion lay in them, only mutual… surprise. What had just happened?

In this split second, neither of the men seemed to know.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Just a small sketch because I'm feeling pretty burned out right now (due to several factors, really) and I can't seem to get actual things done. I'm still surprised at how this chapter has turned out, though - it's been a several-day struggle but I don't even feel too bad throwing it at the world... man! Thanks experience!
But yes, I haven't really shared much about what's going on lately, and I feel like I should do a journal about that sometime soon, but... fact is, there hasn't been any exciting things happening in my life lately, other than me finishing a last semester of 3D animating cowboys and horses, touring a few festivals with my second year film and then starting my gap year. As I'm now thrown into the vast world of real-life/job opportunities and obligations, a lot of things have started to pile up and grew over my head to the point of me falling into a state of... paralysis, pretty much. I just shut down completely, and after over a month of struggling with blocked motivation it's been... tough. But yeah, one step at a time, am I right? However, this is the reason why I only seem to upload story chapters with quick sketches now. It's a thing that's still fun doing (: If I'm somewhat silent and don't answer or comment, this is why. They say people with a risk of burn-out tend to isolate themselves and... uh, let's say it's comfortable?

Bwah, hope you enjoy this anyway. Or, "enjoy", haha. Things are gettin' serious! This has been in the making for so long and... well, Jim pretty much hates me now. Things were going so well!!! THANKS MOM.
On a side note, I've been drawing Pete with his thinning hair and his slouchy shoulders and at some point I was like "aw old man! You're supposed to be the villain here, don't make me like you that much!!" (ACTUALLY that's not even true, Pete is the third protagonist after Jim and Remy, the real villain is yet to be revealed.) BUT I'M RAMBLING.
ENJOY THE DRAMA!

Darcy and the gang and the event borrowed from decors with kind permission! ♥
Art, writing, Peter , Jim and Coppola (c) by me, no ref used

Description

Complete Storyline Previously | Next

Storyline folder "Breaking Point"
Previously | Next

Music.

Peter | March

“Why not the chestnut,” Peter said. “It’s turf, its spacious, it’s not technical - why the grey? I don’t understand it.”

James shrugged. He was sitting on the grey gelding Coppola, his mount of choice for the Grand Prix at Pemberley Show Park - a choice that his father could hardly fathom. On his cards, Hergest Ridge had been the clearly superior candidate for the day, but for some reason Jim had left the chestnut to Dick. While the younger rider was thrilled about the prospect of competing on his favourite horse, Peter could but shake his head. Obviously, Jim thought he knew it better. “I don’t just put all of my hopes on one horse,” he said as he put his jacket on. “Francis can win this just as well as Mike can.”

“As long as you remember the time allowed…” Peter pondered, crossing his arms. “I would almost say, you can cut the corner between seven and eight and go for--”

“Duly noted,” Jim interrupted. His eyes were cold as he turned away from his father and urged his gelding into a brisk rising trot.

Peter stuffed his hands into the pockets of his pants. Right. He’d forgotten they still weren’t on the best of terms... He wondered what he’d done wrong for his son to treat him like that. Disappointed, he shook his head and hobbled back to the fence. A glance on the crumpled-up starting list that he always carried around in his pocket told him that James would be called into the arena any minute now.

“Mr Crosby?”

Peter turned around to see a tall man address him. Reluctantly, he tore away from the fence to greet him, all while his mind was racing: was he supposed to know this man? He figured the face was familiar, but… where was a name memory when you needed it most? Thankfully, the other came to his relief and introduced himself. “Darcy,” he said as he took Peter’s hand firmly and shook it. “Do you think you have a few moments to speak about my… sister’s employment?”

Peter looked over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of James, but quickly focused on Mr Darcy again. “Yes, yes,” he hurried to answer. In reality, though, he had no idea what the man was talking about. An employment? Surely something of Catherine’s doing, wasn’t it? Peter tried to play it cool. “Right, I remember,” he began slowly.

“Georgiana,” Darcy helped him. “We agreed she would take on a position as groom at your facilities.”

Finally, something in Peter’s mind clicked. Right. That new girl. Now he remembered - she was supposed to join and support Carlotta as a show groom and hopefully take over her duties in due time so the redhead could be promoted. The Italian had been the first and only groom whom James’ antics had never deterred: A while ago, they had celebrated her one-year-anniversary at Crosby Stables, much longer than any girl had ever survived that position. She was too valuable an asset to lose, so after having “outgrown” the job of a groom, she would remain within the staff as an exercise rider.

While one rider after another was called into the arena for their round, Peter and Mr Darcy arranged that the girl would meet the Crosby staff tomorrow. The situation came in handy: Carlotta would show her many of the things she had to do at competitions, Georgiana would be able to assist her, still in relative comfort at her home stable, and after the competition was over, she would return to New York with them.

New groom, new luck, so to say. James better leave her alone.

After Mr Darcy had left, James was nowhere to be seen. Peter muttered something under his breath and hurried towards the competition arena as fast as his knee allowed. He hoped he wasn’t yet too late to witness his son’s round.

The space surrounding the arena was packed with spectators. Big grandstands bordered the turf field at two sides, but as those had filled up quickly, quite a number of visitors was lining the fence to watch the action. Peter had a hard time winding through them to reach the area where the rest of the team was waiting - craning his neck, he saw that James’ round was already underway.

All of a sudden, an alarmed murmur ran through the crowd. In the very moment that Peter reached the fence, a woman next to him gasped for air and a man wearing an HCL shirt threw his hands up in surprise.

He was just in time to watch his son fall.

It happened within a fraction of a second. Coppola lost his stride in the middle of the triple combination, took down half of the second jump, proceeded to trip over the poles only to crash into the left stand of the last oxer - and as he went down, James went down with him.

Peter’s heart nearly stopped. It was a proper mess: white legs flailing, the gelding rolled over his rider to wriggle himself out of the pile of wood, stepped on the bridle that had slipped off his head to cleanly snap the leather off, and took to his heels. Jim was still down, motionless between the poles that he’d crashed into.

Peter felt the urge to run into the arena, but some force held him frozen on the spot. His mind was racing. He stared blankly at the scene that was presenting itself to him, but all that he saw... was himself. Five years ago. When his own white stallion had almost crushed him to death. In the end, it had only been his knee that was beyond salvation - but nonetheless, nothing had been the same after that day. His stomach churned at the thought.

Paramedics were already swarming the field, hiding Jim from his vision. Two of them carried a stretcher, calling out orders, but their voices were far away, blurred and unintelligible - it felt as like cold water had engulfed him and clouded his hearing and vision.

As Jim was lifted onto the stretcher, Peter felt relief wash over him. He was awake. Barely, and clearly in shock, but he was awake. Half sitting and propped up on his elbows, he stared into the void.

Carlotta had in the meantime caught the gelding, and led him over to Peter. Thank goodness - he seemed alright, if not a little wired up from the fall. A thorough check-up would prove if he was really unscathed, but at least he had gotten up on his own and was walking normally.

Not so much his son. Peter felt sudden nausea hit him as he noticed that they’d stabilized his leg. As Jim was carried by, their eyes met. Little emotion lay in them, only mutual… surprise. What had just happened?

In this split second, neither of the men seemed to know.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Just a small sketch because I'm feeling pretty burned out right now (due to several factors, really) and I can't seem to get actual things done. I'm still surprised at how this chapter has turned out, though - it's been a several-day struggle but I don't even feel too bad throwing it at the world... man! Thanks experience!
But yes, I haven't really shared much about what's going on lately, and I feel like I should do a journal about that sometime soon, but... fact is, there hasn't been any exciting things happening in my life lately, other than me finishing a last semester of 3D animating cowboys and horses, touring a few festivals with my second year film and then starting my gap year. As I'm now thrown into the vast world of real-life/job opportunities and obligations, a lot of things have started to pile up and grew over my head to the point of me falling into a state of... paralysis, pretty much. I just shut down completely, and after over a month of struggling with blocked motivation it's been... tough. But yeah, one step at a time, am I right? However, this is the reason why I only seem to upload story chapters with quick sketches now. It's a thing that's still fun doing (: If I'm somewhat silent and don't answer or comment, this is why. They say people with a risk of burn-out tend to isolate themselves and... uh, let's say it's comfortable?

Bwah, hope you enjoy this anyway. Or, "enjoy", haha. Things are gettin' serious! This has been in the making for so long and... well, Jim pretty much hates me now. Things were going so well!!! THANKS MOM.
On a side note, I've been drawing Pete with his thinning hair and his slouchy shoulders and at some point I was like "aw old man! You're supposed to be the villain here, don't make me like you that much!!" (ACTUALLY that's not even true, Pete is the third protagonist after Jim and Remy, the real villain is yet to be revealed.) BUT I'M RAMBLING.
ENJOY THE DRAMA!

Darcy and the gang and the event borrowed from decors with kind permission! ♥
Art, writing, Peter , Jim and Coppola (c) by me, no ref used