Stall Eight: Pyrotechnics

[Ripley]

Stallion: Pyrotechnics
Age: Y4
Pedigree: Fire N' Ice x Numinora
Owner: Valkyrie Stables
Breeder: ?

Post here to interact with Pyrotechnics and his connections.

[Ripley]

Ripley was excited for several reasons as she headed from the Intrepid stalls to the Valkyrie stalls. She had just settled an exciting deal for a match up with one of her most prolific mares ever. She was heading to meet up with old friends in the form Valkyrie Stables, who had disappeared from the racing scene to return six months later. And she was about to take a close look at a half-brother to G1 producing sire DW Flamekissed. Nothing was more exciting than that.

She had a mare in mind, but wasn't quite sure as to when or what stud she wanted. It most certainly wasn't going to be in the next couple of years, but she liked to keep her options opened. With DW Flamekissed retired from stud, there would be limited chances to get in touch with an old family line. Pyrotechnics had intrigued her immensely and so here she was.

She'd lost Mal to Adele for lunch, but there was no rest for her today. This was easily one of the most exciting days yet. A nice reprieve from racing after a stressful Breeders' Cup week. God it had been a nice week. Four Breeders' Cup winners, a repeat victory in one race and sensational juvenile performances all around. If she wanted to keep the success up, she needed to keep a keen eye on up and comers.

The papers had said Pyrotechnics would be located in stall eight. She looked up and grinned, paused briefly at the entrance to the Valkyries stalls and smiled at the horses who stared out. She was in heaven.

[Kenren]

Larsa wasn't exactly... nervous for the day's activities. Or, if he was, it wasn't because of his own worries necessarily. He'd been happy as could be that morning, without a care and ready to show off his fine charges. But then Cole had pulled him aside and stressed how he needed to act with propriety and represent the farm. Well, that was a lot of pressure to put on a guy, wasn't it? I mean, Larsa messed up a lot, and he knew it. But no one ever really seemed to mind. And he knew a lot of the other farms' employees at least by sight, so it wasn't like he needed to prove himself necessarily. So, Larsa decided, Cole could stuff it. At least the trainer hadn't decided to supervise. He at least recognized that Larsa knew his horses and Cole, frankly, didn't much care for the retirees.

Larsa had pulled Minske along, since he was the next closest position to the breeding barn as the youngstock trainer. While all three of their proffered stallions were freshman, Minske had a good eye for the breeding horses and a good sense of what came out of Valkyrie stock. The man didn't regret his decision to bring him while they waited for others to walk by. Larsa got anxious from anticipation pretty easily, and Minske was as good as a therapist at dispelling the nervous energy into something productive.

They'd been chatting animatedly about Native Harlot's potential when footsteps alerted them to the presence of a visitor. Larsa smiled easily and stood from his chair. "Ripley Marsh, always the lady of the hour." He'd had a few brief meetings with the woman pertaining breedings between the two farms, and most recently when picking up the broodmare Feline Frenzy from their breeding division. She'd stopped by Pyrotechnic's stall, and he could guess why. She was one of the only people that would remember the stallion's rare and old lines. "Here's hoping your stallion will pass the baton onto him, hmm? Brother needs a chance to prove himself."

He looked in on the stallion as well, and cringed a little. The stallion wasn't one for indoor areas, though procuring him one of the larger stalls on premises had helped a little. Still, he was pacing the back of the stall, sweat already dampening his fiery chestnut coat. The stallion stopped when he noticed them, eyes rolling a little as his head flung up and his nostrils flared. He wasn't the worst to handle, not by far, but this was probably one of the traits that had kept him from getting mares. He looked like a nutcase, though Larsa knew differently. He'd have to take him for a walk after a bit and air him out before he really started getting angry.