#I'm sure present day him and Puck will show up in the next few challenges

[puckconnolly]

@thescorpioracesfestival Tourist Challenge 9: Souvenir (and we finally get some screen time with Sean Kendrick)

Once again, I’m sorry this challenge and the last two were late, but I’m all caught up now! 

Links to challenges 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

as always, shoutout to @colestclairs / @suriels (she switched blogs but you can find her posts on either, or just search the tag “claire&rowan”)

Challenge 9 under the cut. Enjoy!

Rowan and Claire made their way to the O’Brien’s house, laughing and giggling the whole time. Rowan had invited Claire over after hearing that she was less than wanted at her own home. She figured it might be nice for Claire to talk to people who were excited she was racing, not scared.

They had barely made it through the front door when Rowan’s grandfather yelled from the kitchen, “Who wants November cakes? I just finished them, and I think they’re my best batch yet!”

Rowan and Claire made a beeline to the kitchen. The faint smell of oranges hung in the air, swirled with sugar and melted butter. Rowan wished her apartment back in New York smelled as good as her grandparents’ kitchen did. Claire and Rowan plopped down on the stools and inhaled the November cakes.

“So Grandpa,” Rowan started, mouth full of gooey November cake, “What was is like when you raced in the Scorpio Races?”

Chester smiled clasped his hands together with glee. He had been waiting to tell someone other than Amelia about his time racing. “Well, it all started when I was out for a walk on the beach one day.” Chester called back those memories he looked back on with great fondness.

Twenty years ago, a twenty-years-younger Chester strolled along the beach near Skarmouth. He noticed something black bobbing in the water and got closer to check it out. He knew the risks, he was a born and bred Thisbian, but, like most of the islanders, he was drawn to the dangerous horses.

The capall uisce barreled out of the water, pushing against the tide and ran straight over to Chester. Up until that point in his life, Chester had been content to partake in the festivities surrounding the races, but then that all changed.

That capall uisce that didn’t rip him to shreds and instead stood tall, facing Chester, changed everything.

Chester had taken a tentative step forward, arm outstretched. He knew he’d probably lose his hand, but didn’t care. He knew the horse would probably bolt and run back into the sea.

But he didn’t.

Instead, the capall mirrored Chester and took a tentative step forward, and nuzzled his snout into Chester’s outstretched palm.

“Blackberry,” Chester had named him, for he was as black as the night and much sweeter than any capall uisce ought to be.

Chester didn’t have any rope, but Blackberry had seemed to understand him, seemed to know that he supposed to follow Chester. Together, the two made their way to Malvern Stables. He was greeted by Sean Kendrick, whom he had grown up with. Sean had given him a look of surprise when he’d seen the capall following calmly behind. What Sean hadn’t seen, Chester recalled, was the half loaf of banana bread in his pocket that Blackberry got dangerously close to stealing.

Sean had helped fit Blackberry with a saddle and bridle and had found him a place at the stables. Every day after that, Chester had snuck off to the stables after Amelia had gone into town. It wasn’t that Amelia disapproved of racing, it was just that Chester wanted to make it a surprise the night of the parade.

So every day, he had trained Blackberry, gently coaxing the horse to trust him. He would give Blackberry blackberries when he had done well, and Blackberry had taken a liking to his namesake. In no time at all, Blackberry and Chester had formed a bond. People had starting paying attention to them during training. Sean had helped Chester with the art of riding, as Chester had never ridden a capall uisce before. Sean had stopped racing many years before. Chester once asked him why and Sean replied that is wasn’t the same without Corr.

Though Chester progressed in his training, he was still a cautious rider. He had been petrified of going too fast and had just wanted to ride Blackberry. Sean and Chester would ride up on the cliffs, away from the more ferocious capaill uisce. Sean explained that he had done this with his beloved Puck because she had raced her island horse, Dove, and the capaill had seen Dove as dinner. Chester had felt quite special after hearing that.

So, for weeks, the two of them would train, more so Chester than Blackberry, until the day of the race. Puck, sadly, had ratted out Chester’s surprise to Amelia, but that hadn’t mattered. The race was here, and Chester had Amelia, Sean, and Puck on the edges of their seats.

What was the race like? Chester looked back fondly to the sand scratching up his shins and the salt of the ocean spraying in his face. He remembered Blackberry’s wild mane whipping in the wind, hitting Chester’s forearms, but he barely even noticed. Sean had told him to go close to the water, because so many of the other capaill were drawn to the sea, but Blackberry was drawn to Chester’s easy laugh and patient voice, and also whatever food was in his pocket. He wouldn’t care about the sea singing her sweet song to lure the capaill uisce back to her. Sean had been right, of course.

 Once the race started, Chester knew immediately that he wouldn’t win. And that was ok. He had learned a new skill, had fun, and made a new friend. And that was all that mattered to him.

So Blackberry had merely trotted along the shore, water splashing up from his hooves. Chester watched in fascination as riders fell or lost control of their capaill, while he merrily strode by.

He had heard Puck scream at him to GO FASTER WHAT ARE YOU DOING? but simply did not care. He ended up in third place, and was content.

The watchers of the race had formed in a mob around the winner, while Sean, Puck, and Amelia made their way over to Chester and Blackberry. Amelia had taken a picture of the most joyful Chester that had ever existed with his arm slung lazily around the shoulders of Blackberry.

Chester thought back sadly to when he and Sean had released Blackberry back to his home in the sea. He knew he couldn’t keep Blackberry, but he felt he was losing a dear friend. He never told anyone, but each year, he looked down on the training to see if Blackberry had resurfaced, with no luck.

He didn’t tell that last bit to Rowan and Claire though. He didn’t want them to pity him. It was a tentative friendship between man and beast. It had only lasted a month. But Chester still wished he’d had more time.

“So,” Rowan said, breaking Chester out of his memory, “Do you think Blackberry is still alive? Have you ever looked for him?”

“No,” Chester shook his head, “I haven’t seen him since.” He cleared his throat and turned to Claire. “I hope your capall--”

“Elemental,” Claire offered.

“Elemental,” Chester smiled. “I hope your Elemental is as special to you as my Blackberry was to me.”

Claire smiled back and assured Chester than he was. Chester seemed happy with the answer and excused himself to let the girls have time to themselves.

“Wow,” Claire sighed.

“I know! I never knew my grandpa was so cool!” Rowan exclaimed.

Claire agreed. “Hey, I got you something,” she changed the subject.

“A present? For me?” Rowan asked in delight.

“It’s nothing crazy,” Claire assured her, “just something to remember me by.”

Rowan scoffed, “I don’t have to remember you. You’re coming with me, silly!”

Claire looked down at her hands. “I know, but just in case.” She quickly handed Rowan the gift.

“Socks?” Rowan questioned.

“Wool socks that I made myself,” Claire clarified. “From our sheep.”

Rowan smiled and immediately put them on. “I love them!” And she wasn’t just saying that, like she did with most presents she received. Rowan truly loved them simply because Claire had made them.