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Description
Competition: THE FREDENSBORG ROYAL DRESSAGE EVENT
Class: Pas de Deux (#807)
Rider: Richard Winchester
Horse: CBR Lait de Poule
Extras:
- Don and Drub
- A Grave Mistake

Music: Song
Snowless Version
Animated Version

a sweet collab with Tamashi-Sama and their characters Omar Diwan & Zimni Mor! had fun and now richard has a new friend to endlessy share stories with

lines, sketch, shading, audience, & statue - me
background, colours, snow, & animation - tama

His hands had already begun shaking when the pair were called up to perform, coming from a great Dressage rider why couldn't he grasp the concept. It never spoke to him in all the attempts he made at it. Of course, he was happy when he rode at a show but it never felt the way it did when he jumped over fair heights with Frost or turned a tight barrel with King. Richard stopped in his thoughts, hmm.. Maybe it’s something I just have to come to terms with. Yet he didn’t mean that as he’d force himself to learn and love the sport, rather spend time within it. Maybe talk to his son about it, learn his reasons for participating in it and what it means to him. He felt like he was missing something. And he may possibly be. Geoffrey looked so excited when he hopped on Ramsey and began training, reaching for the next step towards Grand Prix. When would he start feeling that?
The man made an attempt to think of something else, looking to the crowd and hoping his mother wouldn’t spook him yet again. Fortunately if she did Hen was here and more than happy to offer comfort, as well as Omar who had amazingly taken the boy into his arms as another one of his children. He was loved and appreciated here. Remember that, Richard. His eyes met with his husbands, and he smiled cheekily. Even when they could not speak to each other directly Johnny knew how to offer love and happiness where he lacked it. The black haired man, speckled with snow, sent a kiss towards him as they met eyes again making the blonde blush hard. Omar chuckled as he caught the interaction, Zimni unamused, and Hen fawning over the lovely moment - she always had a sweet spot for love.
His mind softly melted into calmness over the period of the show, listening to the beautiful music the two had picked for the class. There it was, a spark. The movement of the two was gracious and amazing, he felt the rhythm within and saw a glimpse of what Dressage was. Hen did her best to show him what can be, working out her movements with ease as her muscles rippled, her heart beat, and she breathed the cold winter air. We are beautiful, Richard. Like art. Yet, he had spent some time away from his drawing, his music, and the arts in general. When he picked up his cello he felt stupid, the same mindset from high school hard in his head. If I’m not doing this for a living then why do it at all? But he never thought to ask himself that when he was on Dallas’ highways, dropping down into third gear and pushing through the miles. He wasn’t going to be a professional racer, so why was he doing this? For pure joy, for the release it gave him when he was stressed with working day and night for him and his brother or when school gave him another warning for another bulk of tardies. When he picked up his favourite pen, the one Flynn had given him at 17 made custom with love, he felt like an idiot. I’ll never be like everyone else. I’m not even creative. He said this to himself in his room as the rain pitter pattered against his window and the lamp light outside flood onto the red walls covered with amazing depictions of different cars adorned with body kits, big spoilers, and flashy colours harmoniously mixed against beautiful sketches of the people he had lain with, reminiscent of the Titanic drawing. At the beginning when he gathered up the reins, he felt ashamed. Why litter this prestigious event with your self? You have no intentions to be the best, the greatest. Yet he got in the saddle this morning, the other day, and the day before that. At any moment he could have stopped doing these things, pulled out of Fredensborg entirely, sold Hen and the equipement. This constant battle within himself was tiring but the Irishman endured subconsciously.
He would endure.

Word Count: 695

REFERENCES USED:
Stock

Description
Competition: THE FREDENSBORG ROYAL DRESSAGE EVENT
Class: Pas de Deux (#807)
Rider: Richard Winchester
Horse: CBR Lait de Poule
Extras:
- Don and Drub
- A Grave Mistake

Music: Song
Snowless Version
Animated Version

a sweet collab with Tamashi-Sama and their characters Omar Diwan & Zimni Mor! had fun and now richard has a new friend to endlessy share stories with

lines, sketch, shading, audience, & statue - me
background, colours, snow, & animation - tama

His hands had already begun shaking when the pair were called up to perform, coming from a great Dressage rider why couldn't he grasp the concept. It never spoke to him in all the attempts he made at it. Of course, he was happy when he rode at a show but it never felt the way it did when he jumped over fair heights with Frost or turned a tight barrel with King. Richard stopped in his thoughts, hmm.. Maybe it’s something I just have to come to terms with. Yet he didn’t mean that as he’d force himself to learn and love the sport, rather spend time within it. Maybe talk to his son about it, learn his reasons for participating in it and what it means to him. He felt like he was missing something. And he may possibly be. Geoffrey looked so excited when he hopped on Ramsey and began training, reaching for the next step towards Grand Prix. When would he start feeling that?
The man made an attempt to think of something else, looking to the crowd and hoping his mother wouldn’t spook him yet again. Fortunately if she did Hen was here and more than happy to offer comfort, as well as Omar who had amazingly taken the boy into his arms as another one of his children. He was loved and appreciated here. Remember that, Richard. His eyes met with his husbands, and he smiled cheekily. Even when they could not speak to each other directly Johnny knew how to offer love and happiness where he lacked it. The black haired man, speckled with snow, sent a kiss towards him as they met eyes again making the blonde blush hard. Omar chuckled as he caught the interaction, Zimni unamused, and Hen fawning over the lovely moment - she always had a sweet spot for love.
His mind softly melted into calmness over the period of the show, listening to the beautiful music the two had picked for the class. There it was, a spark. The movement of the two was gracious and amazing, he felt the rhythm within and saw a glimpse of what Dressage was. Hen did her best to show him what can be, working out her movements with ease as her muscles rippled, her heart beat, and she breathed the cold winter air. We are beautiful, Richard. Like art. Yet, he had spent some time away from his drawing, his music, and the arts in general. When he picked up his cello he felt stupid, the same mindset from high school hard in his head. If I’m not doing this for a living then why do it at all? But he never thought to ask himself that when he was on Dallas’ highways, dropping down into third gear and pushing through the miles. He wasn’t going to be a professional racer, so why was he doing this? For pure joy, for the release it gave him when he was stressed with working day and night for him and his brother or when school gave him another warning for another bulk of tardies. When he picked up his favourite pen, the one Flynn had given him at 17 made custom with love, he felt like an idiot. I’ll never be like everyone else. I’m not even creative. He said this to himself in his room as the rain pitter pattered against his window and the lamp light outside flood onto the red walls covered with amazing depictions of different cars adorned with body kits, big spoilers, and flashy colours harmoniously mixed against beautiful sketches of the people he had lain with, reminiscent of the Titanic drawing. At the beginning when he gathered up the reins, he felt ashamed. Why litter this prestigious event with your self? You have no intentions to be the best, the greatest. Yet he got in the saddle this morning, the other day, and the day before that. At any moment he could have stopped doing these things, pulled out of Fredensborg entirely, sold Hen and the equipement. This constant battle within himself was tiring but the Irishman endured subconsciously.
He would endure.

Word Count: 695

REFERENCES USED:
Stock