Sophie, on the other hand, had busied herself with reading. She had discovered a love for horse books, and she had remembered reading something about a horse barn here, making mental notes to remind herself to check the horse barn out.

She frowned when the rain came a rat tat tatting on the window, rolling over when her roomate came in. She loved the dog, often coaxing the Eskimo dog onto her bed when her roomate was gone. Had she come in at the right moment, on days when the dog was left behind, she might have heard Sophie's voice.

Now, however, the girl just rolled over, keeping her book propped open, her head on her head, gazing atthe girl with blank eyes.

Yes, she could be a frustrating creature, couldn't she? Her head tipped to the side, that blank look still on her face, and she gazed at the girl a moment, her green eyes jumping from the dog to the girl, watching her with mild eyes, pull on the hoodie. She nodded mildly and her gaze dropped back to the book. Her head looked up again and she pulled shrugged, her lips moving like she was talking to herself. And she was. The book was snapped loudly shut and she was soon on her knees in front of the trunk, digging through it. A gold, heart shaped locket was pulled out, hanging from a silver chain. Engraved on the front was Sophie Juliet Robertson in tiny, loopy print. This was tossed at the girl, the one called Whitney, so she could finally discover the girl's name. Inside was a picture of a mucky girl, looking to be about five years old. Only the dirty, carrot red hair and dull green eyes told you it was Sophie, apparently when she was first taken in by the government. And the other held a more recent, much more recognizable photo of the girl. She continued to dig thorugh the trunk until a black, green hemmed hoodie was pulled over her head, bearing white words with green around the edges "Aeropostale" <--Is Aeropostale in Germany???-->> Boots, looking to be similiar to English riding boots were pulled on her feet. She rose in front of hte mirror, and her wild curls were coaxed back into a white scrunchie on a bun on the top of her head. She walked by Whitney and held out her hand for the locket, fastening it around her neck when it was returned, motioning the girl forward with her hand, giving a shrug at the same time, obviousy saying she was indifferent to whether Whitney wanted to come or not, and headed toward the door.

The girl trailed down the dark hallway, down the many steps, and paused in the entry hall to tug her hood on over her wild red hair. The rain always gets my hair frizzed... she thought ruefully as she shoved open the door and trudged out into the rain. She soon would have been simply a figure in the mist if you had gotten too far behind, and Sophie didn't look over her shoulder to check if Whitney was still there. The girl was overly concerned about her, and that bothered the younger girl. She hated when people were concerned about her. Why she hated the goverment so terribly. She didn't need to be coddled. The street kids would scorn her if they knew what high a life she was living now. But I still won't talk she reflected bitterly as she trudged through the rain. A large and looming building was soon in sight, the sounds of horses coming from within. A hooded smile slowly curved the girl's lips as she stepped inside the door, out of the wind and rain, and threw back her hood to gaze at the many school horses...

She smiled as she approached the elderly horse, her red red lips turning upward, probably the first time Whitney had seen Sophie smile. But there she was, gently blowing into the old horse's nostrils. She almost slipped up and spoke to the horse, but she caught herself just in time, slowly letting herself into his stall, Whitney and the dog now forgotten. "Easy.." she whispered, the horse's ears flicking back the only sign that she had even breathed, let alone spoken. She continued to speak to him, her voice inaudible as she gave a lil hop and swung on, patting the horse's neck when she was on. Atta boy she thought to herself as she adjusted her seat...

But of course, there was no lead rope or halter, so she couldn't. She just flopped down over the horse's neck, forgetting Whitney and the dog for a moment.

The world fell away as her fingers knotted themselves into the horse's mane to keep from falling when he moved about his stall, the old horse paying no mind to the featherlight weight on his back.

The girl nodded absently, toying with the horse's mane. Yes, it was natural. She had no reason to try and make herself look better. She didn't really care about her appearance, and therefore she had no reason to dye her hair. Of course it was natural. But she didn't say any of this. Of course she didn't. She never said anything, now did she?

The girl shook her head. No he isn't. She heaved a sigh, wishing, more than anything, she had her own hosre. Somehow this wasn't the high, the on top of the world sensation she'd expected. She slowly sat up, continuing to toy with the horse's mane, smiling inwardly, but not outwardly, but he moved to get a drink from an old water bucket. Now that was a good feeling. She wished there was a horse she could take out. She didn't think this poor old nag was up to anything like that.

((OOC: Sorry it sucks. I gotta go.))