Performance Anxiety

Sil takes a deep breath and tugs at the uncomfortably high collar of his pressed white tunic as he looks over the jumping arena. He can’t remember the last time he’d been this far uptown, or if he’d ever even been this far uptown, and the setting was entirely uncomfortable at best. His new tunic and vest were stiff and form-fitting, the collar too tight and sleeves covering up more of his tattoos than he'd like. The arena and surrounding stables were clean and well-maintained, the jumps placed just so, with their freshly arranged flowers and shrubs offering the picture of perfection. The other riders and their shiny mounts were clearly from more upper crust backgrounds than the bartender of the seediest bar in town could ever hope to be. Sil was out of his element, an unsettling feeling for the tiefling, and one he hadn’t felt since he’d arrived at Aphinast University more than a decade ago.

Of course, only a couple of semesters in, he’d dropped out, trading homework for pouring drinks.

The buckskin Loshenka stallion at the other end of the reins in Sil’s hand nudges his shoulder with its nose, pulling the tiefling from his thoughts with a start. Sil turns to the horse and rubs the white markings on his face between the lines of the black leather bridle. The stallion closes his eyes and stretches his neck out, presenting it for more of the tiefling's affection, and Sil can't help but chuckle. He ended up being far more fond of riding than he'd anticipated and made fast friends with this particular horse. His name, Crackling Fire, was fitting for the opinionated and quick stallion. 

“You two are supposed to be in the warm up pen,” says an authoritative voice behind Sil. He turns to spot Cassandra Sinclair strolling up to him, dressed in a fine red wool jacket and dark riding breeches, though he was sure she wasn't riding today. His golden eyes lock onto hers.

“Right. Sorry, Miss Sinclair. I was just… getting a better feel for the course and… atmosphere,” Sil tells her, his tone ending on an uncertain note as he glances back towards the arena. 

“Don't let all it go to your head,” Cassandra responds to the fellow demonkin, a hint of amusement in her voice. She tucks a strand of firey wavy red hair behind her ear.

“Go to my head?” Sil repeats, some defensiveness sneaking into his words. “You misunderstand me, there's no way I'm placing in this competition. You signed me up for this. I'm hardly ready for a real jumping course, let alone an invitational.”

“The nerves,” Cassandra clarifies, raising an eyebrow at him, but still seeming primarily amused with the current situation. “Don't let the nerves get to your head.”

“I… oh. Of course,” Sil acquiesces, feeling heat spring to his cheeks. His eyes move back to the course, to the spectators in the bleachers, and then towards some of the other riders walking past. 

“You deserve to be here just as much as anyone else,” Cassandra tells him, her tone cool, yet polite and incredibly matter-of-fact.

“How can you be so sure?” Sil asks, tugging at his collar once more.

“Because I've seen you ride,” Cassandra tells him, giving the other tiefling a grin. “Besides, I didn't sign you up for this event because I thought you would place, I signed you up so you could get your first competition out of the way. So you could acclimate to the atmosphere,” she says emphatically, mimicking him from before in a gently teasing way. “That way you'll know what to expect when your skills are better. Then you will place.”

Sil chuckles at this. “You have a lot of enthusiasm, Miss Sinclair.”

“And you have a decent amount of raw talent, Mister Apinyaa,” she shoots back, flashing him a fanged grin. “And Fire here has a lot of refined talent. He's been to a lot more shows than you have and he'll serve you well if you let him.”

Cassandra reaches over and pats Crackling Fire’s bronze colored buckskin coat affectionately with her comment. At her touch, the stallion turns to look at her from some of the more fluffed foliage near one of the jumps that he'd been examining during the two demonkins’ conversation. He lets out a soft nicker and Cass grins, sneaking him a molasses and oat cookie from her pocket. Fire accepts it, munching quite happily.

“Anyway, as I was saying - warm up ring,” Cassandra tells Sil pointedly, heading towards the stands with a wave. 

Sil nods at her, letting out steadying breath as he tugs on Fire’s reins, heading towards the warm up pin.

“We got this, right Fire?” Sil asks the stallion as they move towards the pin. Fire neighs, seemingly in agreement, though he swishes his curly dark tail, perhaps annoyed at his skill coming into question. After all, Sil is the amateur here, not him.

As they approach the gate, Sil pulls Fire to the side, checking his tack over once more. The last thing the tiefling needed was for a strap to come loose mid jump. He'd gotten better at dealing with mishaps and falling, but damn, hitting the ground never felt good. He wonders if falling off of a horse in front of an audience hurt more or less than usual, only for these new thoughts to be interrupted by a different and much more unexpected voice.

“Oh my gods! Sil?!?”

The tiefling freezes at the sound, only for Fire to nearly pull his arm out of the socket as the buckskin stallion rears away from the incoming horse and rider. Sil clenches his jaw and keeps Fire otherwise in control and by his side, placing a reassuring hand on the large white overo marking on the horse's shoulder as he turns towards the voice. 

Jewel, a dark skinned demi-fae grins down at the tiefling, grinning from atop a snowflake-spotted seal bay mare. She looks almost the same as when he'd last seen her, almost eight years ago. She's dressed smartly in riding clothes, a tan riding coat and white breeches, her raven black hair braided into an intricate bun and reflecting a blue sheen in the sunlight. The mare gives a snort at Sil and Fire, watching them with clear brown eyes.

“What are the odds? It's been forever. You're riding too? How are you?” Jewel gushes, pulling back on the mare’s reins as the horse tries to move away from both the fence line and the agitated stallion on the other side. Fire lets out a sigh, displeased with the mare’s maintained closeness but no longer startled.

Sil forces his gritted teeth into something more reminiscent of a proper smile. 

“Hello, Jewel. So good to see you,” he offers in the kind of well practiced polite tone that one only develops with a long history in customer service. The tiefling moves back a couple paces from the fence, giving Fire a bit more room. The stallion seems to move with Sil and settle down quickly into this new spot, though he continues to eye the mare with some annoyance. The seal bay mare seems to settle a bit as well as she's given a bit more space, though she periodically stomps one of her socked hooves impatiently, clearly preferring to be moving.

“Oh my gods, it's crazy that you're here. I was going to come visit you at the Bleeding Banshee later this week. Since when do you ride?”

“Since recently, I suppose,” Sil tells her with a tight smile, not really wanting to give her much information and certainly not loving the idea of her coming to bother him at work.

“What a coincidence! I started riding in Darivell last summer. I'm here representing Westport Stables.”

Getting impatient, Jewel's mare attempts to shoot forward, but Jewel simply pulls her into a tight circle. With this, Sil realizes that Jewel is also riding a Loshenka having caught sight of the mare’s curly black tail held aloft. Jewel spots Sil looking and grins at him. Fire watches the mare's movements warily.

“This is Dark Roast, by the way. I see your familiar with the breed. Wait until you see the stunner I'm riding next weekend at the dressage event. She's a gorgeous blotted tuxedo rapunzel,” Jewel tells him, clearly bragging. 

“Oh, you do dressage too?” Sil asks, not caring much for the answer as he mounts up onto Fire, hoping to better control the stallion from there as opposed to on the ground. The last thing he wanted was his foot stomped on pre-competition. Luckily Fire seems much more relaxed with a rider in the saddle. Although the stallion still eyes the other Loshenka, he is alert and focused, awaiting Sil’s direction, happy to work.

“Oh yes, I've been training in all the eventing classes. Originally it was just for something to do outside of work, but my patron really took a liking to me,” Jewel tells the tiefling, watching him closely with her bright jade green eyes.

“Sounds like we're both lucky to have such generous sponsors,” Sil responds, already tired of Jewel's bragging, but familiar enough with her games to deny her the one-up while still sounding complimentary. Sil gives Fire a gentle nudge with his heels, which the stallion responds to immediately, heading for the gate into the warm up pen. Thankfully a nearby staff member holds it open for the pair as they ride through. 

“Oh? Who are you riding for?”

Sil sets Fire into a trot around the edge of the pen, acutely aware of Jewel’s eyes following him even as he avoids looking at her. As he reaches the opposite side of the pen, she sets her mare into a matching trot heading the same direction.

“Miss Cassandra Sinclair,” Sil says evenly.

There is a slight pause before Jewel speaks.

“You're serious?”

Sil shoots a look towards Jewel, grinning. Her purple-hued lips are pressed together in a mildly irritated way as she awaits his answer.

“Oh deadly, love,” comes his reply, his golden eyes twinkling. 

Jewel considers this for a moment with a hue of vague jealousy and opens her mouth to offer a retort. However, she is cut off by a dwarf standing at the edge of the pen.

“Julianna! You're up first,” comes his gruff voice. Jewel turns her head towards him, her expression annoyed for a split second before she manages a bright grin.

“Coming!” She replies in a sing-song tone, her mare more than happy to make a break for the gate. As Dark Roast passes Fire, she tries to turn and nip him in the rump. Fire offers a small retaliatory kick, but Jewel pulls her mare's head back before any actual contact occurs between the horses. The whole interaction leaves Sil feeling tense and annoyed. 

“We'll catch up more later!” Jewel calls to Sil over her shoulder in a cheery way, her mare’s ears flattening briefly at the demi-fae’s volume. Sil simply offers her a curt nod in response as she moves out of view.

“I hope not,” he mutters under his breath as soon as she’s gone. Fire snorts in agreement, shaking his head, clearly discontent with Dark Roast’s manners. After taking a breath, Sil urges Fire into a canter, eyeing the practice jump in the center of the pen.

“Alright Fire, let's make some magic,” the tiefling tells his stallion. “This is going to be great,” he says, mostly trying to convince himself.

---

The warm up period goes by quickly and Sil begins to hear the bell announcing rounds, starting with Jewel and continuing for the couple of other riders ahead of him. Soon Sil finds himself riding into the arena in the cool and breezy autumn mid-afternoon. He feels Fire tense beneath the saddle and for the umpteenth time wishes his shirt collar wasn't so damn tight. He spots Jewel at the edge of the arena, having already handed off Dark Roast to the dwarf from before, who presumably was also from Westport Stables. She grins at the tiefling, giving him a wave with a wiggle of her fingers. Sil feels a pit growing in his stomach, which only drops deeper as he hears the bell indicate he needed to begin his round. 

He scans the jumps and gives Fire a squeeze. The stallion flies into action, quickly transitioning into a canter. Sil’s heart pounds in his chest, echoing Fire’s measured hoof beats. Sil leads Fire towards a box jump with a horse-shaped emblem depicted on its posts, knowing Fire showed the most agitation at the sight of other mounts. He allows Fire a good look, having to be more forceful with the reins than usual. Fire gives a snort, ready to GO. The pair’s pause feels like it goes on forever though it couldn't have been more than a few seconds. Before the tiefling relents on the reins, he looks towards the bleachers. He spots Cassandra quickly by the vibrance of her hair and the contrast of her black horns against them. She gives Sil a nod of approval and he nods back.

“Alright. Let's go,” he tells Fire, who paws the ground before launching himself towards the starting point with plenty of courtesy time left.

If their pause felt as if it took forever, their round felt quicker than a blink. Sil and Fire rode fast, the stallion making up for much of what Sil lacked in technical skill. Sil’s thoughts were a blur as they rode, taking the first jump beautifully and lining up precisely for the second. Fire ended up knocking down two poles: one in a combination in which Sil did not count strides correctly, and one from a vertical that caused the tiefling to flinch slightly ahead of time, a confusing signal for the stallion. All in all, they completed their round with the fastest raw time so far, but behind Jewel due to their penalties.

By the end of the round, Sil is full of adrenaline and endorphins, a wild sort of grin plastered to his tan face. It was over and he hadn't fallen or made an entire fool of himself. Fire pranced his way back out of the arena, clearly pleased with himself. Sil gives him a firm pat before running his hands between his polished black horns, trying to contain the dark curly flyaways the speed had pulled out of his ponytail. His eyes are bright as he dismounts outside of the warm up pen and Cassandra meets him there soon after.

“So… not bad for a first show. What did you think?” Cassandra asks Sil, looking him over with an amused smirk as she digs out more cookies to offer Fire.

Sil looks at her, still a bit lightheaded and grinning.

“Let's go again.”