Tabitha & Manuel
Apr. 15th, 2009 06:51 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsEarly morning, Tabitha witnesses one of the rare moments where Manuel is truely enjoying his surroundings.
The rush of the water pushed up in between the long sturdy legs of the dark bay warm blood, sloshing through salt water at a brisk pace. Perched on the long back of the Hanoverian, Manuel held the reigns loosely in his hands, just slightly above the withers, ‘silent’ and soft against the bit at the end of the bridle.
While he had originally learned with a saddle from trialing lessons when he was young, bareback was a comfortable leisure he had to pay extra for and a waiver was signed over to be allowed access to one of their more prestige breeds instead of the usual pack horses. He rode barefoot; enjoying the light sprinkle of water along the back of his calves and his white button down shirt was rolled up at the sleeves and left unbuttoned, as though he belonged as an exotic local.
What he’d thought was a forgotten trade, was mastered better now that he recalled old habits and corrected them. His posture was straight, shoulders back and looking ahead, Manuel turned his horse in the direction he wanted to go with a shift of his leg. Whoever had trained her taught the mare with their legs and he assumed it was only an adapt woman that could maneuver such a beast to be so elegant and easily relented onto the bit.
The mare was sound, with a slight spring to her step that his original selection, a Dutch warm blood stallion, had lacked. The breeds were similar in their dressage appeals however, he opted for the female because of a connection he felt as opposed to the male whom he would be battling for dominance.
She turned easily for him, smooth with the slightest gesture and her rhythm was even, picked up into a trot onto the beach with flying changes. The white sands blew up around her feet, clinging to her legs as he carried her into piaffe and passage – a slow motion dance on the spot- a suspended trot at a speed that was easily slipped into the next stride. He moved her forward again, his eyes full of concentration , asking for another series of flying changes every three strides and turning around again. He circled on the spot and his hair fell across his face, caught in the slight breeze coming from the water as she side stepped. Her crossing legs carried her in a diagonal down the beach and he resumed a trot forward, correcting her on an extension that came natural for her gait.
Each step was deliberate, lacking a usual laziness and boredom that horses tended to have when being ridden. She rose to his quiet challenges and met him for every request he gave to her. Her black mane tangled through his fingers and he drew her to a halt, squaring up in a perfect posture that was in harmony with both rider and horse.
Up until that very second, she'd been quite happy with her room's view from the balcony. If she could have taken her eyes off of the pure sex that was Manuel riding a horse bareback, she would have been smacking her head repeatedly against the railing.
Some things should just be illegal.
The rush of the water pushed up in between the long sturdy legs of the dark bay warm blood, sloshing through salt water at a brisk pace. Perched on the long back of the Hanoverian, Manuel held the reigns loosely in his hands, just slightly above the withers, ‘silent’ and soft against the bit at the end of the bridle.
While he had originally learned with a saddle from trialing lessons when he was young, bareback was a comfortable leisure he had to pay extra for and a waiver was signed over to be allowed access to one of their more prestige breeds instead of the usual pack horses. He rode barefoot; enjoying the light sprinkle of water along the back of his calves and his white button down shirt was rolled up at the sleeves and left unbuttoned, as though he belonged as an exotic local.
What he’d thought was a forgotten trade, was mastered better now that he recalled old habits and corrected them. His posture was straight, shoulders back and looking ahead, Manuel turned his horse in the direction he wanted to go with a shift of his leg. Whoever had trained her taught the mare with their legs and he assumed it was only an adapt woman that could maneuver such a beast to be so elegant and easily relented onto the bit.
The mare was sound, with a slight spring to her step that his original selection, a Dutch warm blood stallion, had lacked. The breeds were similar in their dressage appeals however, he opted for the female because of a connection he felt as opposed to the male whom he would be battling for dominance.
She turned easily for him, smooth with the slightest gesture and her rhythm was even, picked up into a trot onto the beach with flying changes. The white sands blew up around her feet, clinging to her legs as he carried her into piaffe and passage – a slow motion dance on the spot- a suspended trot at a speed that was easily slipped into the next stride. He moved her forward again, his eyes full of concentration , asking for another series of flying changes every three strides and turning around again. He circled on the spot and his hair fell across his face, caught in the slight breeze coming from the water as she side stepped. Her crossing legs carried her in a diagonal down the beach and he resumed a trot forward, correcting her on an extension that came natural for her gait.
Each step was deliberate, lacking a usual laziness and boredom that horses tended to have when being ridden. She rose to his quiet challenges and met him for every request he gave to her. Her black mane tangled through his fingers and he drew her to a halt, squaring up in a perfect posture that was in harmony with both rider and horse.
Up until that very second, she'd been quite happy with her room's view from the balcony. If she could have taken her eyes off of the pure sex that was Manuel riding a horse bareback, she would have been smacking her head repeatedly against the railing.
Some things should just be illegal.
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