d o n ' t c r y f o r m e ,
t h i s h e a r t ' s l o s t b e f o r e




“You can't change what’s happened already. Maybe you just need to remember what ya do have, and keep movin’ along.” He counldn’t for the life in him remember who had said that to him, or how long ago. Yet, it had stuck with him. True to it though, there was definitely more bad, and worse, than good for him. Few as the good things were, they were there, with one good look, they were easy to spot. Though, then, his mind was wandering so far from everything. A different time, a younger him, a happier him. Everything was so hazy now. Then, it was all simple. His heart ached for those times again. If anyone had come up to him at that exact moment, they'd notice a completely different side in him they'd never seen before. His scarred, weathered features were softened, his eyes holding a rather different emotion, an almost unreadable one. Some would call it wistful, others, couldn't understand it. His arms were crossed gently over the top rail of the fence, the bulk of his weight placed carefully into his left leg.

One couldn't know how long he'd been there, but for a long while, his eyes carefully searching over the land, a few horses carefully grazed in this particular pasture. One, a leopard Appaloosa, the others being bay, chestnut, and line back dun. The sun had risen not long before, it's soft morning rays casting between the trees near him. Finally he stirred, rather lightly mind you, his head bent down slightly, looking at the few shoots of grass beneath him. It was moments like these, that could easily change a person. Normally, he seemed so distant, reclusive almost. But then, he seemed at ease, rather Kindred, or Charlotte, or anyone in town were happy he was back or not. He'd learned not to hope for the best. That was just something that never worked for him. Anytime he did, the worst went wrong. It was sad, really. Finally, he moved his right hand from the rail of the fence, to the pocket of his jeans, fishing quietly there for the keys to his pickup. Not long after, he removed them from the pocket, beginning to turn from the fence line. The white pickup wasn't far, but it was a long walk, nonetheless.

When he began in the direction of the pickup, his eyes traveled toward the barn, noting that not far off from it, there was a group of about four people. Two of them were obviously teenagers, so they must've been students. His eyes carefully searched the other two. One was quite obviously a young man, the other, the only thing he could tell was that it was a woman. After all that useless data was stored away, he gently began picking his way through the tall, gentle swaying grass. Yes, he'd taken a chance at anyone who'd known him to find he was there, but at the same time, he didn't care much about it. His long, but quiet strides finally brought him back to the pickup. After inserting the key into the lock and opening the driver's side door, opening it. Remembering something, he turned toward the bed of the Ford pickup, but stopped. There was someone coming toward him, yet they were so far off, he couldn't tell whom it was, if they were on horseback or not. Whomever it were, he decided to wait and find out.







[OOC;;
Okay so I left this open for anyone to come in. Reply if you want, I don't really care. It's just here! And slightly short and museless, but what the hay. I tried.]

The silence over the valley calmed him. The smooth sunlight that hit his weathered skin warmed it ever so lightly. His eyes had traveled from the unexplained form of another person, to the thick cluster of trees that hid the river behind them. Good memories, bad memories. They all flooded through his train of thought. Many times he'd found himself in the depth of those trees, wandering aimlessly through them, as well as through his thoughts, hopes, dreams, and heartbreak. One would carefully ask by now, what had gone wrong? Well, many things, to tell all the truth. To be honest, it wasn't her death that had altered him into the crushed person he was today. It was the pile on of guilt after it had happened, the flood of people turning their backs to him. After all, what had they to expect of him then? He had only been around the immature age of Fourteen. It all was a mass of confusion and hurt, how everything had taken the snowball effect..

A quiver of a voice filled his ears, quickly turning his head to the right. A teenage girl stood there, looking questioningly at the halter in her hands. When she looked up, she seemed shocked. Why? Well, he wouldn't know. After a moment of silence, he finally turned slightly, reaching toward the halter. After taking it from her hands, it took a quick moment of inspecting it, before he was able to turn it over on itself. Previously, it had been turned inside out. It was a bright red hue. It looked as if it had never touched the skin of a horse. Placing his hand at the poll band of it, he carefully reached it back in her direction.

“A bit of sense would've told you to untangle it, but there you go.”

The deep, yet rough, rolling sound of his voice left his chest smoothly. The expression upon his features suggested that of slight confusion at her shock, and again, a quiet sternness to it. If that made sense. Expressions tell the story of what is inside a person. Rather it be sadness, to joyfulness. With much care and thought put into really reading a person, it was easy to tell what went on behind the doors, so to speak. The fear that her body spoke though, it caused him to think for a moment. Now his intent was to help her of coarse, not to put fear in her. Perhaps his gruff appearance had something to do with it.

“The nose band at the bottom goes on first, over the nose. The top poll band goes behind the ears, and buckles on. You should be able to figure it out.”

The rough, low sound of his voice was still there, but it was a bit gentler. Though after a short moment, he did turn from her, not expecting an answer at all. Why should he? There was no intent of conversation. She'd asked for help, he'd given it. That morning, he felt more, willing. It almost didn't make sense. The almost silenced young man there, didn't mind the varied company. Surprisingly, gentle fit well on him. Now everyone had their gentler side, some more willing to show it than others. The more unwilling ones felt they had more to hide, because it was being soft. Of coarse, it was obvious he was one of the others.











OOC;;
Hm, it turned out better than I thought. A little short though. Oh well. And, please dont mind me trying to tweak with new ways to title my posts. I got tired of the way I'd been doing it. So please bare with me while I most likely will have a new way every time..]