Bayou Blues
Call me Louisiana
Get To Know Louisiana!
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An adrenaline junkie, there's nothing that Lou won't do in order to get her kicks. She adores turnout time, never leaving her pasture as neat as she found it. Churning up the mud with her hooves, she'll challenge everyone within a mile radius to a race.
Unfortunately for her, an incident on the track left her unable to carry a rider for too long or too strenuously, so she's been assigned to trail duty ever since. That doesn't mean she won't tease her riders, however - often beelining for fences or walls just to slide away at the last second just for kicks.
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One of the only concrete pairs in the barn, she and Atlas have one of the strongest bonds some of the others have ever seen. They're inseparable, and, while sometimes it may seem like they do not get along or even ignore each other, the pair love each other with all of their hearts.
While he's not her only foal, Hyas is the only one who was fathered by her mate, and so she views him more highly than anything else. She dotes on the colt, much to his dismay, and still mothers him despite his being grown.
She's a good friend of Ronan, Honey and Jack.
She tends to avoid the quieter horses, however, wouldn't have any enemies.
Winning Prompt​
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What is her biggest regret?
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The creak of leather, the smell of the sweat, the thunder of hooves and the adrenaline - there was nothing Loui loved more than being on the track. Thundering, shoulder-to-shoulder, at breakneck speeds alongside her rivals, her opponents... her brethren. She excelled in her training, and even took part - and placed well - in some small-town standing start races. She was to be the next big thing, and prided herself in her achievements.
Until her first big race. Her breakthrough. Her trainer, her humans, her jockey, hey, even her stable mates were excited about her debut. She can still remember, clear as day, the smells and sounds as she unloaded from the trailer, many other thoroughbreds stabled in the same building all as eager and full of thrill as she. She could barely keep still as she was tacked up rolling the bit under her tongue and shifting her hooves every couple of seconds.
Soon, the time came for her to be paraded out, and the mare thought she might explode. Walking towards the stable door with her head held high, she allowed her gait to prance and her tail to flow behind her. Soon, her ears perked at the sound of her name being announced over some ghostly, booming voice, and she couldn't keep herself on the ground. Bucking up, there were soft oohs and comments from the crowd, and she soaked it in.
She slipped into the gates without so much as a flick of her tail, barely minding the weight of the jockey on her back. Other horses, as young and inexperienced as she was, nervously approached the gates, some even refusing entry. Rolling the bit around her tongue, she waited until the shouting began, until her jockey gathered the reins, until the last second of silence before the bell chimed, signalling their release.
And, like she was floating on air, she shot out of the gates, taking a quick and easy lead. She could hear her jockey, urging her to be steady, but she didn't want to slow down, throwing caution to the wind. Her strides were long, and, as she ran for the halfway mark, they grew longer. Her jockey began to tug on her bit, urging her to slow, but she was winning. Why stop now, when things were just becoming glorious.
There is nothing she regrets more. Youth and naivete urged her to continue at her pace, but, looking back, how she wishes she had taken his advice, had slowed down. He had run far more races than she, he knew what she was doing. She was new to this.
A fool.
With her mind on nothing but the winnings that lay ahead of her, the pride and the glory that awaited beyond the finish line, she lost track of her hooffalls, and, in a slip up that happened once in a lifetime, her hind hoof landed on her front, toe catching toe and causing her to stumble. Her nose grazed the grass beneath her feet as her legs splayed beneath her, her knee twisting beneath the combined weight of herself and her jockey forcing harshly upon the twisted tendons.
A career ending injury.
The tendon healed, but her racing did not. The humans took her from the track, worrying that a worse injury would follow. Never again has she been pushed hard, had she been allowed to open her stride and gallop to life's fullest extent.
Oh, how she wishes she could revisit that day. To re-do that race, to win as she should have, while also listening to her jockey, who knew far more than she.