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she-wolf-of-highgarden · 5 years

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All the times Arya mentions “Home”

*Arya mentions wanting to go home every book so far (or 44 times), so this is a long one y’all...*

“I do not mean to frighten you, but neither will I lie to you. We have come to a dark dangerous place, child. This is not Winterfell. We have enemies who mean us ill. We cannot fight a war among ourselves. This willfulness of yours, the running off, the angry words, the disobedience … at home, these were only the summer games of a child. Here and now, with winter soon upon us, that is a different matter. It is time to begin growing up.” - Arya II, AGoT

“It was very dark right now, she realized. She hugged her bare knees tight against her chest and shivered. She would wait quietly and count to ten thousand. By then it would be safe for her to come creeping back out and find her way home.” - Arya III, AGoT

“The memory made Arya smile, and after that the darkness held no more terrors for her. The stableboy was dead, she'd killed him, and if he jumped out at her she'd kill him again. She was going home. Everything would be better once she was home again, safe behind Winterfell's grey granite walls.” - Arya IV, AGoT

“All she wanted was to go home, but leaving King's Landing was not so easy as she had hoped. Talk of war was on every lip, and gold cloaks were as thick on the city walls as fleas on … well, her, for one. She had been sleeping in Flea Bottom, on rooftops and in stables, wherever she could find a place to lie down, and it hadn't taken her long to learn that the district was well named.” - Arya V, AGoT

“She's still here," Arya blurted. The longshoreman gave her a queer look, shrugged, and walked away. Arya ran toward the pier. The Wind Witch was the ship Father had hired to take her home … still waiting! She'd imagined it had sailed ages ago.” - Arya V, AGoT

“When at last she slept, she dreamed of home. The kingsroad wound its way past Winterfell on its way to the Wall, and Yoren had promised he'd leave her there with no one any wiser about who she'd been. She yearned to see her mother again, and Robb and Bran and Rickon . . . but it was Jon Snow she thought of most. She wished somehow they could come to the Wall before Winterfell, so Jon might muss up her hair and call her "little sister." She'd tell him, "I missed you," and he'd say it too at the very same moment, the way they always used to say things together. She would have liked that. She would have liked that better than anything.” - Arya I, ACoK

“A she-wolf. Arya sloshed her beer, wondering. Was the Gods Eye near the Trident? She wished she had a map. It had been near the Trident that she'd left Nymeria. She hadn't wanted to, but Jory said they had no choice, that if the wolf came back with them she'd be killed for biting Joffrey, even though he'd deserved it. They'd had to shout and scream and throw stones, and it wasn't until a few of Arya's stones struck home that the direwolf had finally stopped following them. She probably wouldn't even know me now, Arya thought. Or if she did, she'd hate me.” - Arya II, ACoK

“A man must be ashamed of the company he keeps, Arry," the handsome one said. "This man has the honor to be Jaqen H'ghar, once of the Free City of Lorath. Would that he were home. This man's ill-bred companions in captivity are named Rorge"—he waved his tankard at the noseless man—"and Biter." Biter hissed at her again, displaying a mouthful of yellowed teeth filed into points. "A man must have some name, is that not so? Biter cannot speak and Biter cannot write, yet his teeth are very sharp, so a man calls him Biter and he smiles. Are you charmed?” - Arya II, ACoK

“He is not," Arya declared. My father only had one bastard, and that's Jon. She stalked off into the trees, wishing she could just saddle her horse and ride home. She was a good horse, a chestnut mare with a white blaze on her forehead. And Arya had always been a good rider. She could gallop off and never see any of them, unless she wanted to. Only then she'd have no one to scout ahead of her, or watch behind, or stand guard while she napped, and when the gold cloaks caught her, she'd be all alone. It was safer to stay with Yoren and the others.” - Arya III, ACoK

“I wish I was home," she said miserably. She tried so hard to be brave, to be fierce as a wolverine and all, but sometimes she felt like she was just a little girl after all.” - Arya III, ACoK

“I don't care. I want to go home." - Arya III, ACoK

“Arya was remembering the stories Old Nan used to tell of Harrenhal. Evil King Harren had walled himself up inside, so Aegon unleashed his dragons and turned the castle into a pyre. Nan said that fiery spirits still haunted the blackened towers. Sometimes men went to sleep safe in their beds and were found dead in the morning, all burnt up. Arya didn't really believe that, and anyhow it had all happened a long time ago. Hot Pie was being silly; it wouldn't be ghosts at Harrenhal, it would be knights. Arya could reveal herself to Lady Whent, and the knights would escort her home and keep her safe. That was what knights did; they kept you safe, especially women. Maybe Lady Whent would even help the crying girl.” - Arya IV, ACoK

“Arya found herself with Gendry, Hot Pie, and Lommy. Squat, kettle-bellied Woth had pulled an oar on a galley once, which made him the next best thing they had to a sailor, so Yoren told him to take them down to the lakefront and see if they could find a boat. As they rode between the silent white houses, gooseprickles crawled up Arya's arms. This empty town frightened her almost as much as the burnt holdfast where they'd found the crying girl and the one-armed woman. Why would people run off and leave their homes and everything? What could scare them so much?” - Arya IV, ACoK

“He was going to take me home, she thought as they dug the old man's hole. There were too many dead to bury them all, but Yoren at least must have a grave, Arya had insisted. He was going to bring me safe to Winterfell, he promised. Part of her wanted to cry. The other part wanted to kick him.” - Arya V, ACoK

“She nodded. "Yoren was taking me home to Winterfell.” - Arya V, ACoK

“The Lannisters had taken everything: father, friends, home, hope, courage. One had taken Needle, while another had broken her wooden stick sword over his knee. They had even taken her stupid secret. The storehouse had been big enough for her to creep off and make her water in some corner when no one was looking, but it was different on the road. She held it as long as she could, but finally she had to squat by a bush and skin down her breeches in front of all of them. It was that or wet herself. Hot Pie gaped at her with big moon eyes, but no one else even troubled to look. Girl sheep or boy sheep, Ser Gregor and his men did not seem to care.” - Arya VI, ACoK

“Arya climbed. Up in the kingdom of the leaves, she unsheathed and for a time forgot them all, Ser Amory and the Mummers and her father's men alike, losing herself in the feel of rough wood beneath the soles of her feet and the swish of sword through air. A broken branch became Joffrey. She struck at it until it fell away. The queen and Ser Ilyn and Ser Meryn and the Hound were only leaves, but she killed them all as well, slashing them to wet green ribbons. When her arm grew weary, she sat with her legs over a high limb to catch her breath in the cool dark air, listening to the squeak of bats as they hunted. Through the leafy canopy she could see the bone-white branches of the heart tree. It looks just like the one in Winterfell from here. If only it had been . . . then when she climbed down she would have been home again, and maybe find her father sitting under the weirwood where he always sat.” - Arya IX, ACoK

“Arya went to her knees. She wasn't sure how she should begin. She clasped her hands together. Help me, you old gods, she prayed silently. Help me get those men out of the dungeon so we can kill Ser Amory, and bring me home to Winterfell. Make me a water dancer and a wolf and not afraid again, ever.” - Arya IX, ACoK

“I can't. I have to go home. To Winterfell.” - Arya IX, ACoK

“The lord and maester swept from the room, giving her not so much as a backward glance. When they were gone, Arya took the letter and carried it to the hearth, stirring the logs with a poker to wake the flames anew. She watched the parchment twist, blacken, and flare up. If the Lannisters hurt Bran and Rickon, Robb will kill them every one. He'll never bend the knee, never, never, never. He's not afraid of any of them. Curls of ash floated up the chimney. Arya squatted beside the fire, watching them rise through a veil of hot tears. If Winterfell is truly gone, is this my home now? Am I still Arya, or only Nan the serving girl, for forever and forever and forever?” - Arya X, ACoK

“Warm and dry in a corner between Gendry and Harwin, Arya listened to the singing for a time, then closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep. She dreamt of home; not Riverrun, but Winterfell. It was not a good dream, though. She was alone outside the castle, up to her knees in mud. She could see the grey walls ahead of her, but when she tried to reach the gates every step seemed harder than the one before, and the castle faded before her, until it looked more like smoke than granite. And there were wolves as well, gaunt grey shapes stalking through the trees all around her, their eyes shining. Whenever she looked at them, she remembered the taste of blood.” - Arya III, ASoS

“Lord Beric Dondarrion. Arya remembered all she'd heard at Harrenhal, from the Lannisters and the Bloody Mummers alike. Lord Beric the wisp o' the wood. Lord Beric who'd been killed by Vargo Hoat and before that by Ser Amory Lorch, and twice by the Mountain That Rides. If he won't send me home maybe I'll kill him too. "Why do I have to see Lord Beric?" she asked quietly.” - Arya III, ASoS

“A stream barred her way. She splashed down into it, through water choked with wet brown leaves. Some clung to her horse's legs as they climbed the other side. The undergrowth was thicker here, the ground so full of roots and rocks that she had to slow, but she kept as good a pace as she dared. Another hill before her, this one steeper. Up she went, and down again. How big are these woods? she wondered. She had the faster horse, she knew that, she had stolen one of Roose Bolton's best from the stables at Harrenhal, but his speed was wasted here. I need to find the fields again. I need to find a road. Instead she found a game trail. It was narrow and uneven, but it was something. She raced along it, branches whipping at her face. One snagged her hood and yanked it back, and for half a heartbeat she feared they had caught her. A vixen burst from the brush as she passed, startled by the fury of her flight. The game trail brought her to another stream. Or was it the same one? Had she gotten turned around? There was no time to puzzle it out, she could hear their horses crashing through the trees behind her. Thorns scratched at her face like the cats she used to chase in King's Landing. Sparrows exploded from the branches of an alder. But the trees were thinning now, and suddenly she was out of them. Broad level fields stretched before her, all weeds and wild wheat, sodden and trampled. Arya kicked her horse back to a gallop. Run, she thought, run for Riverrun, run for home. Had she lost them? She took one quick look, and there was Harwin six yards back and gaining. No, she thought, no, he can't, not him, it isn't fair.” - Arya III, ASoS

“Do you swear?" she asked him. Yoren had promised to take her home too, only he'd gotten killed instead.” - Arya VII, ASoS

“Gendry ignored that. "At least your father raised his bastard, not like mine. I don't even know my father's name. Some smelly drunk, I'd wager, like the others my mother dragged home from the alehouse. Whenever she got mad at me, she'd say, 'If your father was here, he'd beat you bloody.' That's all I know of him." He spat. "Well, if he was here now, might be I'd beat him bloody. But he's dead, I figure, and your father's dead too, so what does it matter who he lay with?” - Arya VIII, ASoS

“Arya turned on Tom and Lem. "If you hadn't caught me, I would have been there. I would have been home.” - Arya VIII, ASoS

“The villagers were building a wooden palisade around their homes, and when they saw the breadth of the Hound's shoulders they offered them food and shelter and even coin for work. "If there's wine as well, I'll do it," he growled at them. In the end, he settled for ale, and drank himself to sleep each night.” - Arya XII, ASoS

“No," he said, "you couldn't." He gave her back her coins. "It would make no difference if you could, child. The north has nothing for us. Ice and war and pirates. We saw a dozen pirate ships making north as we rounded Crackclaw Point, and I have no wish to meet them again. From here we bend our oars for home, and I suggest you do the same." I have no home, Arya thought. I have no pack. And now I don't even have a horse.” - Arya XIII, ASoS

“The star of home," said Denyo.” - Arya I, AFfC

“The star of home. Arya stood at the prow, one hand resting on the gilded figurehead, a maiden with a bowl of fruit. For half a heartbeat she let herself pretend that it was her home ahead.But that was stupid. Her home was gone, her parents dead, and all her brothers slain but Jon Snow on the Wall. That was where she had wanted to go. She told the captain as much, but even the iron coin did not sway him. Arya never seemed to find the places she set out to reach. Yoren had sworn to deliver her to Winterfell, only she had ended up in Harrenhal and Yoren in his grave. When she escaped Harrenhal for Riverrun, Lem and Anguy and Tom o' Sevens took her captive and dragged her to the hollow hill instead. Then the Hound had stolen her and dragged her to the Twins. Arya had left him dying by the river and gone ahead to Saltpans, hoping to take passage for Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, only . . .” - Arya I, AFfC

“Supper was her favorite time. It had been a long while since Arya had gone to sleep every night with a full belly. Some nights the kindly man would allow her to ask him questions. Once she asked him why the people who came to the temple always seemed so peaceful; back home, people were scared to die. She remembered how that pimply squire had wept when she stabbed him in the belly, and the way Ser Amory Lorch had begged when the Goat had him thrown in the bear pit. She remembered the village by the God's Eye, and the way the villagers shrieked and screamed and whimpered whenever the Tickler started asking after gold.” - Arya II, AFfC

“You lie," he said, "but you may keep your secrets if you wish, Arya of House Stark." He only called her that when she displeased him. "You know that you may leave this place. You are not one of us, not yet. You may go home anytime you wish.” - Arya II, AFfC

“Then stay . . . but remember, the House of Black and White is not a home for orphans. All men must serve beneath this roof. Valar dohaeris is how we say it here. Remain if you will, but know that we shall require your obedience. At all times and in all things. If you cannot obey, you must depart.” - Arya II, AFfC

“Cat always stank of brine and fish by the time they pushed off for home again. She had grown so used to it that she hardly even smelled it anymore. She did not mind the work. When her muscles ached from lifting, or her back got sore from the weight of a cask, she told herself that she was getting stronger.” - Cat of the Canals, AFfC

“Braavos was a city made for secrets, a city of fogs and masks and whispers. Its very existence had been a secret for a century, the girl had learned; its location had been hidden thrice that long. "The Nine Free Cities are the daughters of Valyria that was," the kindly man taught her, "but Braavos is the bastard child who ran away from home. We are a mongrel folk, the sons of slaves and whores and thieves. Our forebears came from half a hundred lands to this place of refuge, to escape the dragonlords who had enslaved them. Half a hundred gods came with them, but there is one god all of them shared in common." - Cat of the Canals, AFfC

“I know what Blind Beqqo puts in the hot sauce he uses on his oysters," she would say. "I know the mummers at the Blue Lantern are going to do The Lord of the Woeful Countenance and the mummers at the Ship mean to answer with Seven Drunken Oarsmen. I know the bookseller Lotho Lornel sleeps in the house of Tradesman-Captain Moredo Prestayn whenever the honorable tradesman-captain is away on a voyage, and moves out whenever the Vixen comes home.” - Cat of the Canals, AFfC

“The blind girl did not know whom the voice belonged to. One of the acolytes, she supposed. She did not remember ever hearing his voice before, but what was there to say that the servants of the Many-Faced God could not change their voices as easily as they did their faces? Besides her, the House of Black and White was home to two serving men, three acolytes, Umma the cook, and the two priests that she called the waif and the kindly man. Others came and went, sometimes by secret ways, but those were the only ones who lived here. Her nemesis could be any of them.” - The Blind Girl, ADwD

“I saw you. "I gave you three. I don't need to give you four." Maybe on the morrow she would tell him about the cat that had followed her home last night from Pynto's, the cat that was hiding in the rafters, looking down on them. Or maybe not. If he could have secrets, so could she.” - The Blind Girl, ADwD

“He had guards. Two of them, a tall thin man and a short thick one. They went with him everywhere, from when he left his house in the morning till he returned at night. They made certain no one got close to the old man without his leave. Once a drunk almost staggered into him as he was coming home from the soup shop, but the tall one stepped between them and gave the man a sharp shove that knocked him to the ground. At the soup shop, the short one always tasted the onion broth first. The old man waited until the broth had cooled before he took a sip, long enough to be sure his guardsman had suffered no ill effects.” - The Ugly Little Girl, ADwD

#Arya Stark #A Song of Ice and Fire #asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #quote dump #meta refrences #asoiaf meta #maybe #this hurt to write

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thebigirishgrey · 4 years

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IRISH DRAUGHT HORSE SOCIETY GB YEARBOOK 36TH EDITION -

For the last 10 or so years of my life the only horses I’ve seen are the ones in my favourite stories, come to life at night in my dreams. The Silver Brumby, Black Beauty, War Horse, The Last Unicorn, you name them, Ive read them or seen them on screen, and at night they dance on my closed eyelids across my mind into their golden fields far far from my reach. It hurt so much to be bed bound and far from the animals I love so much, I am severely disabled with a brain condition that is trying to blind me and mobility problems that cause chronic pain and fatigue that make me feel like I actually have a horse on my back rather than the other way round!

In 2018 I decided that rotting in my bed for the rest of my life, was not an option, for nearly 10 years I’d spent my life in the same 4 walls and duvet, a modern day prison. I asked Mum one evening if she would help me get back in the saddle metaphorically and physically. We found a riding school and there in the corner was a horse they deemed “the scary one”. She was an Irish Draught mare who someone had sold to the school after losing their confidence with her.

“The scary one” was aptly named we thought, as she turned on a sixpence while tied in the corner, would look at you with glaring wide eyes and she was bright white although covered in teasels and mud! A little like the 4th horse, the horse of death! Something about this horse made me want to know her, I felt like I knew her. I had only ever seen Irish Draught horses in books and they had always been very different from this spectacle in front of me.

She snorted as I went closer, scared and misunderstood. She sniffed my hand and licked it. I knew we would friends from then on. I rode other horses for the first few weeks and found that my balance was awful but my determination to ride was second to none. All the time this horse was in the back of my mind.

One day I arrived early at the yard as I always did to groom and cuddle the horse I was going to be riding as I hate it when people just turn up and get on as though the animal is a robot for their pleasure. Low and behold, this horse, the scary horse, was stood, tacked up ready for a ride! I couldn’t believe it, someone was going to ride this thing? How brave were they! It turned out a lady called Caroline….. the same name as mine! was going to hack out with us and ride her. As soon as I saw Caroline reach the yard I could feel the colour green rising from my ankle boots up through my gaiters and soon reaching my Charles Owen skull cap. My envy would have burst though the top and out of my mouth had I not grit my teeth so hard.

I couldn’t physically speak for most of the ride, I was captivated by this monster, chewing and pulling at the bit, spinning round and round, spooking at nothing… I wanted to ride her!!!

I didn’t actually tell anyone after my ride how I had felt about seeing this big mare act like everyone around her was the enemy, instead I went up to her and bathed the mud gently from her hooves. She span so she could watch my every move but she seemed as captivated by me as I was with her. I asked what she was called, Coco was her name.

The next week I went up with renewed enthusiasm to find out more about this amazing horse. It felt she mirrored peoples misinterpretation of my pain and discomfort but how was she misunderstood? Could I get the chance to find out?

I was happy to see the mare was tied up and tacked up ready for another outing, though my heart nearly jumped out of my chest when I was told that I was the jockey for the ride! I was absolutely star struck and nearly burst with excitement but I knew I had to contain my overwhelming feeling of joy and anticipation as this could quite easily send our friend Coco skyward!

I mounted from the block and she watched every step I took, she shuffled and wouldn’t stand as I hovered over her but once our bodied connected it felt as though a plug had connected into a socket, electricity, fireworks, I knew we belonged together. Coco watched me with her antennae ears for the whole ride, she didn’t put a single foot wrong and with my loose hands, allowing her to react to any situation she felt scary, she rode easily and free. This is the Irish Draught I know.

I dismounted and nearly fell backwards into the arms of my instructor as Id spent the whole ride, watching, listening and connecting with Coco. I was absolutely smitten and in love with this horse and did not want to leave her. I asked immediately if I could book in with her for every ride in future and that is how our blossoming relationship started.

Coco took me on so many adventures but restricted by riding school rules we could never spend any time alone unfortunately. I dreamt of her, no longer fixated on my storybook ponies, SHE galloped my midnight fields. She felt different from other horses, something I felt as soon as I got on her, she looked after me in a way that said she knew I was different too.

One day I had had enough about hearing how I had brought Coco on so well and how people thought she was a different horse with me, I found it leapt from my mouth… in the middle of a hack… “What would you say if I asked to buy Coco?” …. my heart had spoken. I’d never be able to afford her without Mum but I’m sure I could persuade her, look what Coco had done for me! I was bed bound this time last year and now I’m riding twice a week! What would my instructor say though? I couldn’t hear for my heart pounding, I thought Coco would spook for sure but maybe she knew what I had asked? She waited as patiently and intently as I did for an answer. “Yes of course you can buy her, I asked your Mum last week if you’d like to loan her!”. What had I done? Id spoilt poor Mum’s surprise! She was asked by the owners if I would like to loan Coco and I’d gone and ruined it by buying us a horse! oops! Well that was my Christmas sorted and for several decades to boot!

I couldn’t contain my excitement. Coco was MY horse! Not yours, not anyones, MINE! I think even Coco knew, she acted like she had a Mum for the first time and I was able to spoil her with rugs and food and all sorts of saddlery! But the most important thing of all was being able to get a vet out to do a health check now that she was mine. Something just spoke to me, maybe SHE was trying to tell me herself, but something said that she wasn’t quite your regular horse.

The vet checked her over, some slight wear from hunting in Ireland, a few melanomas, but what we were stunned by was that Coco was blind in one eye! It made a whole lot of sense about her reaction to various things on hacks, noises seemed to have her on edge before she saw things and items like wheelie bins at the side of the road seemed to have been dropped by aliens out of nowhere very suddenly as we were on top of them almost. It was almost a relief to know as I could adapt her life for the better and make it safer for both of us. I have to thank her for being such an amazing safety blanket for me, despite her own disability, i don’t think many breeds of horse would have done the same.

I adore Coco for the horse she is but I also love that she is an Irish Draught; I am a Murphy and naturally wanted an Irish horse from when I was a little one! Dad’s name was Seamus Joseph Patrick Murphy so you couldn’t get more Irish than him! Coco loves her Guinness and so did Dad, he passed away 12 years ago and I know he would have loved to help me with her and so she makes me feel very close to him. I like to think each time I ride she puts me a little closer to heaven as she’s taller than the ground! So he can see me ride. I had always felt the Irish Draught was most suitable for me as a heavier and disabled person because I would naturally squash a thoroughbred and I need something that’s going to hold my big bum and look good doing do! But also have the temperament of a saint and not so highly strung that it will chuck me off every 5 minutes but that will have SOME character and I love the cheeky draught personality! Who doesn’t?!

Call me a glutton for punishment but I had always wanted a grey horse too! I know they take more washing tablets than Dot Cotton’s launderette but they look amazing when clipped and clean! Of which Coco rarely is I admit! However she has taken me to some amazing events this year where she has been looking exceptional! I had always wanted to do some fun rides and the very first I attended in my whole life was this year at Bissellwood Equestrian Centre, transported by Helen Clarke for my 31st birthday! It was such a dream to find out that Coco would just walk on to the transport without any fuss and also travel like she had done it all her life. I think the last time she had done anything was coming over from Ireland a few years before so I was extremely proud of her. Everyone at the event thought she was such a gorgeous horse and I was so proud to be riding and showing her off. It was the first time I felt like I truly owned her. I took her round the 8 mile course on my own and even walked her around the cross country jumps to see what she thought of them. We didn’t jump any but she was extremely well behaved and we walked over some like trotting poles, what a star! You can see how happy I was in the picture by Cordelia Noble of me cantering through the bluebells! I had specially made a cross country set with shamrocks in irish green, befitting of my noble steed and her heritage!

We attended a few more fun rides, Eaton Mascott was lovely, I am pictured cantering at the end by Something From The Hart. This ride I managed to meet up with a friend and we even did our first ever jump although we didn’t plan to! Coco followed our friend over a log! I managed to stay on in an “its okay Mum I’ve got this” situation! One thing you’ll notice in all of our pictures, also the lovely one by Chris Maddox Photography at Millichope, is that we are both always smiling and happy! Any time I’m with my Coco, I am on top of the world and I don’t take anywhere near as much pain relief. I find she is my healing power and therapy.

We also did our first show this year but due to the fact Coco has a few dents and bangs, we decided we would enter something a little more lighthearted and go for the fancy dress. Don’t worry we didn’t make all of the children cry by beating them but we did win and I was absolutely over the moon with Coco as it was her first time receiving applause in a large arena and although she didn’t know where it was coming from as she couldn’t see it, she retained her decorum! Here you can see us as Gandalf and Shadowfax (female form!) by EquinePix Photography at Burwarton Show. We hope to go back in 2020 to defend our title, maybe… perhaps… it was jolly good fun! Especially shouting YOU SHALL NOT PASS at the cross roads of the horse walk where people were trying to pass.

Another highlight this year was a side saddle clinic with Rachael Forkings at Silligrove Livery in Kinlet, we learnt a lot in our first ever go at side saddle and actually first ever clinic!!! Coco was fantastic as usual and took to it immediately. We were cantering around the arena by the end of it and look forward to another session in March.

Probably my biggest highlight of the year was going out hunting with The Border Beagles Hound Club, I’d never hunted in my life and never thought I could but the beagles took me under their paw and I can truly say I’m addicted and can’t wait to go back. I had wanted to do something special for Coco’s GOTCHA DAY the anniversary of buying her and I was not disappointed, the way this horse pricked her ears yet stood obediently when asked but also galloped like the wind when we wanted was absolutely fantastic, she proved her training in Ireland is still in there and its clear to see that its something SHE loves to do too. Here are some fab pics by Darryl Owen Photography of the opening meet on December 1st. The Beagles are a drag hunt and do all they can to keep wildlife and countryside safe as they practice this age-old tradition on horseback.

Late Summer, Coco and I moved to a new yard, Chorley Equestrian Centre in Shropshire, we have been taught by Charlie Lloyd who served in the Kings Royal Horse Artillery and are now focusing on dressage to have a little try at unaffiliated in the coming year. We also hope to try some jumping and some other great clinics countywide.

I would firstly like to thank the breeders of Coco - LADY YEATS, she was brought into this world by dam Brackney Lodge owned by Alex Moores and sire Rosheen Yeats owned by Pauline Furlong. Before owning Coco I literally only knew Blue Peter as a television programme and King of Diamonds as that in a pack of cards. These ladies have helped me learn more about Coco than anyone and have brought her into this world, without them I wouldn’t be writing this today, thank you from the bottom of my heart for giving me the best gift of all, my freedom on the wings of my beautiful heart horse and soul mate, Coco.

Thanks also go to Cathy Meehan for the information she has so helpfully provided about Coco and her breeding with Gentle Diamond, I have yet to trace Cathal Gallagher who is the owner of the foal and previous owner of Coco but I continue to try as I would love to know about this period of her life. Please get in touch if you have any information.

Thank you to Louise Errington, Marily Power at Suma Stud, and the Irish Draught Photo Archive Facebook Group your information and photographs of Coco’s ancestors has been invaluable in producing a family tree for her, something I have always wanted to do.

I must finally add huge thanks to all that produced the Stourport Irish Draught Horse Society GB show 2019. I attended with my Mum as a spectator last year and was blown away by the kindness of all competitors and judge Julie Cornthwaite who along with Sue Benson (chairman) has asked me to write this article for the yearbook. I watched the show and was particularly blown away and fond of the two greys (naturally some might say!) Silver Grey Bouncer owned by Anna Ersting ridden by Matthew Ainsworth and Nice One Frank owned and ridden by Emma Spencer (Reserve Best in Show). Watching these horses and all others on the day gave me a thirst for more with Coco, to become a better rider and to learn more about the breed itself. I immediately came home and read all of my draught books, having already signed up to the society when I bought Coco. I couldn’t have been more proud of being a member, even a lowly spectator! I was so happy that I swallowed my anxiety and feeling of inadequacy and went to talk to judge Julie Cornthwaite after the show to congratulate her one a fantastic day and her amazing riding (she should have got a trophy too!) but also to find out more about showing Coco. One day I hope to find courage to enter a local show for best tack and turnout as advised by Julie as they look less on scars and melanomas there and visiting the show at Stourport really has pushed me to do this. Coco and I even won tack and turnout at the Border Beagles opening meet so it seems Julie’s words of wisdom have truly paid off, thank you so much!

“My name is Caroline Murphy and I am addicted to the Irish Draught!’

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everyman0 · 5 years

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WALLS TO BREAK US

so i know i dropped all communication for the past several months...and evans fucking journal might have you believe i sat on my ass the entire time but that isnt the case. I didnt intend on sharing this information, frankly. but my time is running out now, evans already gone. this account of events will be all i have left.

i cant leave this place. i dont even know where the fuck i am supposed to be to begin with.

there is a house. a neighborhood. stores. a town. but nothing has a name.

there are people, but despite the gift of sight i was given, i see nothing of them. like empty thoughts given a shell to walk around in.

i thought at first, a couple months ago when i was first allowed to walk outside again, that they were real and that i was simply too overwhelmed with shock to really notice what was wrong here. but now i see it. i see it because there is nothing to see. these people aren't people at all, more like ghosts.

at least im not entirely alone. there's still the house and asterion.

ive walked to the store many times, even got assaulted in the parking lot. Was that guy a ghost too? I dont know. but i havent only gone to the store - ive walked around the entire town. know what i finally realized, several days after i had made that exploratory journey?

there are no cars here. none being sold, none being driven, absolutely fucking nothing. no bikes either. no skates, no skateboards, no heelies wheelies or fucking feelies. not a single mode of transportation of any kind.

theres a bus stop though! thank fuck for that! oh wait, it's fucking useless. i have not once seen a bus in this god forsaken place.

imagine the anguish i felt upon realizing that despite being able to steal groceries just fine, i cant even hope to steal a car to drive as far away as i can from this hellhole. but it doesnt stop there.

of course it doesnt.

so alright, no cars. but i still had my legs, right? (and still do, somehow.)

so i figured if i cant drive away, i could at least saunter the fuck out of this place and maybe determine some sense of location on planet fucking earth. i set out. i walked in one direction from the house to the town and onward. and onward. and onward. for five fucking hours.

i found nothing.

but it wasnt your average nothingness like that of a long rural road, as it had originally appeared to me. no...instead, i eventually encountered what i call the Edge. here, the road stutters into an impossible blackness. here, if you turn your head, you can see how the blackness runs parallel to the world around you, bordering everything for miles. real truman show type shit.

the real kicker is when i discovered that only i can see it.

like any good scientist, i did some experimenting. kicked some cans, threw some rocks, all hurtling in the direction of the black wall. to my surprise, the items phased through it. swallowed might be a better word. i couldnt see or hear if the objects landed on the other side, if there was even a side to land on beyond the boundaries of ink. so then i decided i needed an extra set of eyes, and brought evan along a few days later.

this is the first and last time i let him outside in my care, and for good reason.

we arrived at the Edge, and evan was immediately annoyed at me as i had stopped walking just a few feet before the black wall. i asked him to explain what the problem was. he was like, "dude, you told me there was some shit i had to see and we have been walking forever. where the fuck is it? is this it? because it looks like a whole lot of fucking nothing."

i then asked, "what does this nothing look like to you?"

evan was growing more confused and angry, but i didnt want him to know what i did until i knew what he did first. i didnt want to contaminate his perception by revealing my own. i needed to be thorough and absolutely sure of our experience.

he threw his arms in the air in frustration, "a road, vin. it looks like a road, the same fuckin' cracked asphalt we've been following for miles. forwards and backwards, road."

evan took a step forward, into the blackness. i saw the tip of his foot disappear, sliced by the unfathomable wall. evan didnt seem to notice anything different, standing there with his arms crossed. so then i knew at least one thing for certain: only i could see the wall.

however, until seeing evan's foot just barely phasing through the wall, it hadnt occurred to me if i could pass through it too...or at least touch it. before, when i had been throwing cans and such, i didnt dare get too close to the black edge. i had no idea what would happen, and wasnt particularly interested in finding out at the time. all i could gather was that, just like the rest of the town and even the house herself, it was designed to keep things inside.

as it turns out, evan was not one of those things intended to stay. i stood there pondering silently, and watched as evan began an impatient pacing along the length of the wall. an imperfect, wobbly hobble across the street and back; i saw arms and legs flash in and out of the blackness as evan walked, still taking no notice. evan couldnt see the difference like i could, and he wasnt the prisoner these walls were meant to encase. so who was?

well obviously it's me. at least, i'm somehow a part of the equation i think. and then i figured now was no better a time as any for me to make my approach and reach out - touch the wall, see what happens, inwardly hope it just kills me on the spot, and so on.

but right as i had decided this, i hear evan angrily spitting an expletive and turn, marching off beyond the pitch black walls. guess he was tired of waiting on me, and you know ev - always runs in head first. i word this story now as if this is something i remember fondly about evan, but let me be clear: in that moment of time, standing in the middle of some fucking road behind a maliciously black prison wall, a wall of which evan was now beyond and impossible for me to see any longer? leaving me, alone?

i fucking hate how much of a hardheaded ass evan is sometimes.

i was so caught off guard by evan's sudden disappearance beyond the veil of the Edge that what that meant didn't register until several seconds later when i found myself clamoring towards the wall. i yelled for evan, then screamed for him. my hands meet the black surface with a loud plang as if the wall was made of glass, but the way the wall felt against my skin is indescribable. i wailed my fists against the presumed surface, the noise of the impacts reverberating loudly. this lasted a few minutes.

evan eventually came back...and he seemed just as he were before, except maybe even more annoyed as he began to once again pester me on why i was just standing there wasting time. he got his first round of bitching out before he noticed that i had tears running down my face, looking disheveled.

he changed his tune and asked me what was wrong, what the fuck happened. his confusion was telling - he hadnt heard me screaming for him to come back. i wiped my eyes, faked a chuckle, and told him it was nothing to worry about and that maybe it was best to go home for now and try some other time when im more 'in the present.'

i decided that i wasnt going to tell evan about the Edge, at least not right then. i needed time to gather myself back together, since the resulting panic attack had taken a lot out of me for one day. But even after i had taken that time...

i didnt want evan to know about the wall. fuck, i know its selfish, but i didnt want evan to know that he had the ability to leave this wretched fuckhole but i didnt, that i was trapped and he wasnt. its not because i wanted to spare evan the heartbreak of knowing his friend was doomed...but because i didnt want evan to get the idea that he could abandon me without consequence.

i didnt want evan to use this knowledge as an escape plan to get away from me.

not wanting evan to leave me wasnt the only reason i didnt tell him though. there was still so much i was uncertain about; hell, i still wasnt sure if just being outside the house put evan at risk. i took a chance in taking him to the wall and he lasted well enough during that time...but given what was discovered, even if evan could sit out on the lawn every day and not a thing touch him...the very existence of the wall was a dangerous game of chance.

this is why i did not want evan to go back outside again after this incident. i couldnt trust that he would truly be safe...and i couldnt trust that he wouldn't just run away on me. i completely fucked myself in both ways, though. he's out there getting hurt or dying or already dead because i pushed him far enough to truly fucking hate me.

even now, ive no idea what happened to evan after he ran out of the house. Maybe he never made it past the wall again.

maybe this post is the first time he’s hearing about it.*

*IT IS, YOU SMART BOY. I COULDN’T JUST KILL HIM BEFORE YOU EXPOSED YOURSELF AS A HIDEOUS EXCUSE OF A FRIEND. THE PAIN WILL ADD FLAVOR! MAYBE I’LL GIVE YOU A TASTE.

#evrymn0 #phase???

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alia-turin · 6 years

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This chapter is a bit darker, after all things happen after Noct had already disappeared and we all know how the world looks after that. The game doesn’t really touch (even Comrades) on a lot of the things I imagine happen in Lestallum, like provision shortages etc so I kind of tried to add that here. Hope y’all enjoy, Sorry for the angst.

Fic Title: Back to Life Chapter number: Act IV Previous Chapters: Act I, Act II, Act III Rating/Warnings: M (sex, swearing, drinking, Tredd) Pairing: Tredd x Reader Summary: Reader has nice a career and wants to grow it, relationships are not her thing so meeting Tredd at a bar turns out to be exactly what she needs after a long day at work. Notes: Story moves to Lestallum, Noct is already gone so the world is sinking into darkness. I always wanted more canon info on how Lestallum was operating, for the normal people, refugees etc. not just the game characters since I cannot imagine it was a fun place considering everything.

If you feel like supporting this writer consider buying me a coffee: Ko-Fi

Tagging: @birdsandivory @lazarustrashpit @jojopitcher @yourcoolfriendwithallthecandy @kairakara101 @ladychocoberry @demidemon09 @mysticrainpain @mp938368

It has been one of these long days that you wanted to end as soon as it started. Not that it really mattered, every single day in Lestallum for the past year or so has been the exact same thing. Ever since the darkness happened and people started barricading the city. Going out wasn’t safe and nobody did it unless they had to. Staying in was an absolutely nightmare. It was safe, but wherever you went it was the same faces and you can see the hope vanishing from their eyes with every single day. People had even stopped asking where the young king was.

You were sitting in one of the tents rolling bandages, it was the only thing you had the strength to do. That was your new profession, not rolling bandages but you had learned thing or two about nursing. As it turns out nobody needed an interior designer when the world was ending. Another reminder for you how unprepared you were for a life like that. You often wondered what the point of all that was, you haven’t seen the sun more than two months and it seemed like it would never come around again. At first Lestallum had been a shelter, a place where you hoped that eventually you might rebuild life, but what happens when all life was dying? Lestallum was safe, but you helped in the clinic, you knew what the hunters, crownsguard and leftovers of the glaive were saying. The world was falling into ruins.

At first when you moved to Lestallum you thought you would miss the luxuries in life. Having nice hot bath, gym, hairstylist and clothes that costed more than they should. It wasn’t that, these things are easy to live without after couple of months. The routine was killing you. Nothing was happening. Same people, tired of what life had served them. Sure, every day in the clinic was different. Today someone had broken an arm, the next day someone would come with the flu. But that wasn’t life. Loneliness. That was probably the worst part of it. You never managed to make friends in Lestallum, and everybody you knew from before that was dead. Including him, that bastard.

On days like that you often caught yourself thinking about him. Maybe he got the better deal at the end anyway. He wasn’t sitting here rolling bandages until it was dinner time because there was nothing better to do. Probably lambs at a slaughter house felt better than you since lambs didn’t know what was happening to them, you were aware that if nothing changed, sooner or later you all would be going to the slaughter house.

Your thoughts went to him again. He would call you a spoiled brat and tell you to get a hold of yourself. He has always been right you were a spoiled brat. The only reason you managed to get to Lestallum in the first place is because he told you to do so and you were just stuck here when the darkness came. In a sense he had saved your life and you hated him. Not for saving you but for even having the need to be saved. He was one of the many reasons you were where you were and if he hadn’t died you were going to kill him.

The bandage you were rolling had long been rolled and you left it in the box with the rest. You didn’t want to think about that anymore. You haven’t thought about him in days and now all your thoughts and feelings were rolling in your head like avalanche. Did you still love him? Maybe the thought of him, but you also hated what he did.

You were distracted by shouting coming from outside and decided to check. Maybe there was finally something happening in the monotone day of Lestallum.

You walked just in time to say that Libertus was one of the people shouting, there was a man in front of him that was obviously on the receiving end. Couple more glaives were around them. As you started coming closer, you saw Libertus punching the other man in the gut. The man made a step backwards, his body bending from the hit.

“You were always a stupid dick, Libertus.” The man said and you froze. You were probably going insane, that voice…no it couldn’t be. He was dead. Libertus had seen it, he told you he was dead.

Then the man straightened himself and jumped on Libertus, the other glaives grabbed him and you could finally see him…It was Tredd. Stubble was covering his face and he seemed like he had lost some weight but it was him. He tried to fight the glaives that were holding him, he tried to fight his way to Libertus but it didn’t work.

“Why don’t you tell them to let go of me, huh?” Tredd spat on the ground in front of Lib’s feet. “You are afraid I will rip your fuckin head off. Not so brave when Nyx is not around to save your ass, are you?”

“I don’t have time to deal with you.” Libertus eventually said and started walking away. “Stay around, I’m sure the Marshal would love to chat with you.”

“Yeah I’d gladly tell him as well where he can stick it.” Tredd shouted as the glaives let go of him.

You were standing there finding it hard to believe what was happening. Why was that happening? How was it happening? Tredd noticed you eventually and just stared at you as well.

“Fucking finally someone who is happy to see me.” He said and walked towards you but as soon as he reached you, you slapped him as hard as you could, tears running down your eyes. “What is your fucking problem, what is everyone’s fucking problem?”

“You were dead!” you shouted at him and tried to clean the wetness of your face. It wasn’t tears of grief or happiness, it was tears for everything that had happened so far. Him dying, your life being taken away, living one day for the next without knowing when a demon would just breach the city.

“So, I have been told, feel pretty alive.” he chuckled but there was something sad in his smile. “Come on, I need a rundown on what is happening. I feel like I have massive memory loss.”

You just stared at him wanting to slap him again for your broken heart. You mourned him. You cried for him, and now he was here acting as if he has no idea what was happening. He got you all in that!

You just walked toward the place that you were calling home and you heard his steps after you. He was fucking dead, how was he walking and talking. Sure, there were a lot of people who had vanished under Insomnia and appeared later but…weeks later, not almost two years. Not after someone had seen their dead body. Was Libertus lying? Why would he lie?

Your new home was in one of the older buildings of Lestallum, very small apartment, but it wasn’t like you owned anything to put in it. Just some clothes and that was it.

“You have certainly downgraded.” Tredd said as he walked in and you regretted not having a weapon to just kill him on the spot.

“And whose fault is that?” you kicked one of the two chairs as an invitation for him to sit, he didn’t but you did. “Welcome to my new life, you will be happy to hear I don’t have thirty pairs of overly expensive shoes or a whole drawer with make up. Oh also occasionally I don’t have a meal for couple of days because delivery trucks get attacked by demons and the city is not yet fully self sufficient.”

“How is any of that my fault?” Tredd said absolutely innocent even a bit hurt.

“Really, Tredd? You recall trying to kill the king or something of these lines?” you couldn’t believe it. He had always been stubborn ignorant asshole, but that was beyond him.

“First of all, it was the Captain who did the killing I was otherwise occupied. Second I have massive memory loss and I have no idea what happened between that night in Insomnia and literary three days ago when I just woke up on the side of a road.” He came closer to you grabbing your hands in his almost gently. “Third, if my calculations are correct, I have been out of things for months and judging by the feeling of my balls I haven’t fucked anything in that time so…”

“You should have stayed dead.” You said quietly and pulled your hands away from his. As soon as the words left your mouth you regretted them, but it was too late already.

“Stop being such a bitch? What have I done to you? I told you to leave town, you would be fucking dead if it wasn’t for me.” He got up obviously angry. “Why did I even think you’d be happy to see me? You are most likely riding every fucking cock in that city from the moment you arrived.”

“I mourned you!” you got up kicking the chair behind. “I waited for you, then I started hearing stories about what the Kingsglaive did. About what you did. Then one day I met Libertus and he told me that he saw you dead. Until that moment I was hoping you are alive and just hiding somewhere, but then I realized you were just dead. I mourned you, Tredd, I cried, my heart was broken. I hated you for what you did then I forgave you, then the sun was gone and I hated you again. I tried to forget you. To move on…” your voice broke. Tears were running down your face again and he was just standing there like a statue. “Get out of here!” you shouted at him not wanting to show weakness.

“You know what?” his voice was calm but you could feel the anger. “Fuck you. Go back to riding Libertus’ dick or whoever else you are fucking, I’m done with your ass.”

“I’m not fucking anybody, you ignorant piece of shit!” you shouted after him as he shut the door behind himself.

Time moved even slower and more painful in Lestallum. Somehow Tredd was always in front of your eyes and people were making sure to point that out to you. You wanted to avoid him, but was impossible. You knew about everything he was doing without actually wanting to find that out. Apparently Libertus brought him to the Marshal. There were several conflicting stories how that went down, and people made sure to tell you every single one of them despite you protesting it. Regardless of what happened in that room, at all ended with Tredd joining the Kingsglaive again. Good for him you thought and returned to your monotone duties in the clinic.

Then it was all the talk about the girls he was flirting on or sleeping with. People would tell you who was the girl they saw him with and then give you the ‘I’m so sorry look’. You weren’t sure if you hated him more or the people who somehow thought that was information you wanted to hear. Turns out you never managed to move on from him, it was just easier not to think about his sorry ass when he was presumed dead. But now he was here, doing what Tredd did and you wished more often than not for a demon to breach these walls and eat him alive. At least like that you can return to silent mourning.

One day as you were walking in the examination room in the clinic, if that tent could be called a room at all, you saw him sitting there, there was a long deep cut on his arm.

“I will call someone else.” You said as your eyes met.

“Why? Scared you will start crying?” he teased you and look for the closest pair of scissors that you can shove in his eye.

“How did that happen.” You were trying to keep your voice completely flat as you reached for bandages and something to clean the wound. It would need stitches as well which was great news since you were low painkillers.

“You know, saving the world.” He chuckled and you raised an eyebrow. It was his fucking fault the world needed saving to begin with. He flinched as you started cleaning the wound but didn’t say anything. Part of you expected that he would call you a bitch and accuse you of causing him pain on purpose, but he didn’t. Tredd just accepted it.

“Heard the Marshal pardoned you.” You said as you started stitching the wound. He was still holding well even if it was obvious he was feeling pain.

“No, he wanted to kill me. Libertus defended me and vouched for me, no idea why.” That was something you didn’t know. “He said I’m useful in a fight and should atone for what I have done. As if I care, ouch!” he shouted as you stuck the needle harder than before. “At first I thought he was really fucking you that’s why he is trying to save my ass.”

“How did you even reach to that conclusion? The only reason I ever talked to Libertus because I saw him in his uniform and wanted to ask what had happened to you. That’s how I met him, the only times he talks to me is when he needs something from the clinic.” You sighed and started bandaging his arm. You had no straight to fight him.

“I was pissed okay?” he raised his voice and you just gave him a tired look. “You said he told you I was dead, and I am obviously not dead. You were angry at me for no reason. I thought…”

“You thought what Tredd? That he seduced me while I was crying over you? Between trying to figure out my life and sobbing over your ass I haven’t had time to figure out who would be invited between my legs.” you checked the bandage and got off the chair you were sitting on. “You are done, you can go. It needs to be changed tomorrow, so make sure you stop by.” You turned around and you were about to leave as he grabbed you by the wrist and squeezed hard. “You are hurting me.” You turned around and looked at him, he wasn’t saying anything, just looking at you and holding your wrist firmly. “Tredd, let go of me.” You repeated trying to free your hand, but you couldn’t.

Eventually he did and started walking toward the exit but then stopped, turned around and pushed you against the examination table making you sit on it.

“Tredd, stop what are you doing…” you moaned as he kissed you and moved his hands on your ass pulling you closer to him.

“Fixing things by trying to fuck you.” He mumbled in your kiss as he started undoing his pants.

“Who said I want you to fuck me?” you said as you pulled your lips away from his, your hands were helping him pull his pants down. “That won’t fix…” you moaned.

“Stop me then.” You didn’t stop him. You are angry with him for everything he had done and messing up your life but you still wanted him and loved him. Funny how two years of living on the essentials makes you brave enough to admit your own feelings at least in front of yourself.

You help him pull his pants down, then you both managed to take yours off and without waiting any further he started fucking you there in the examination room. You moaned louder with each thrust, it has been such a long time and you missed him, feeling him close to you and inside you. You wrapped your arms around his shoulder pulling him closer and you had to dig your teeth in his t-shirt since you were getting too loud.

“Fuck, forgot how nice you feel.” He groaned as he picked up his pace pushing you into an orgasm. It has been too long, that made it too easy for to push you over the end. Took him a bit longer to follow you but once he came he didn’t move, you were both just standing there, his arms around your waist, yours around his shoulders.

As soon as some logical thought appeared in your head you knew that was a mistake. Your problems weren’t going to be fixed with sex, although you had to admit you did feel a bit better now. You had to say something, you had to talk to him because he wasn’t going to do it. You doubted that dead made him more aware of his own emotions.

Eventually he pulled out slowly and started buttoning his pants. You did the same in complete silence, words just didn’t come to your mind. You wanted him back, but you weren’t going to beg for it.

“I will see you around when I come for the bandage tomorrow.” He walked toward the entrance and stopped again. You saw his whole body move as he took a deep breath, held it and then his shoulders sank as if he wanted to say something else, but never did.

You stood there alone realizing that you just made a bigger mess than you had before. You should have either tried to patch things up or end them once and for all but not fuck him just for the sake of fucking him.

“Fuck!” you slammed the table in frustration, your hand hurt but you didn’t care. Apparently, you haven’t grown as much as you thought as a person. What was the purpose of admitting in front of yourself that you loved him, if you couldn’t tell him that. Of course there was the small detail that you were talking about Tredd after all, and saying stuff like I love you was going to force him to make ten offensive jokes and probably pretend to be dead again.

#tredd furia #tredd #tredd x reader #tredd/reader #kinsglaive #my writing

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