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dA give me my gif previews back!! -sobs over the loss of my chapter overview grid-

Complete Storyline "A Tale Of Two Fathers" Previously | CHAPTER 25 | Next

Storyline folder "Beautiful That Way"
Previously | Next

~ What previously happened ~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I want to sit at home in my rockin' chair
I don't want to travel the world
As far as I'm concerned I've had my share
But time’s more precious than gold
I don't wanna see another airplane seat
Or another hotel room
The home life to me seems really neat
I just wanna unpack for good

Fleetwood Mac - Homeward Bound

Music.

Remy | May 2019

Remy knelt over his travel bag, an ice pack pressed against his left temple.

Through the hotel’s thin curtains fell a streak of sunlight, appearing and disappearing with the panorama of clouds moving by - a perfect illustration of how the week had gone by so far. Heavy rain took turns with sunshine, disappointment followed success, migraines came and left. It was unpredictable, just like the future.

To kick off their summer circuit, James had secured a last minute invitation to a three-star event in Reims, Northern France, and at a moment’s notice, shipped the entire team overseas. A three-star was as good as it got for now. None of them ranged on top level yet: Remy hadn’t competed regularly for years, Dick hadn’t had the horses before and Vitoria was only starting to make waves among the Seniors. But despite his rag-tag team, James had his eye on the south, on St. Tropez, Valence, Vilamoura, where the creme de la creme was meeting - he was adamant to make his way there to more glorious, more glamorous events. But to achieve that, the riders would have to collect good results to improve their global ranking, and that proved a harder task than anticipated.

Going into the Grand Prix on Sunday, Remy and his chestnut Mike already had two classes under their belts. Thursday’s 145cm competition had seen them in the last third of the pack with a knocked rail - a result that was forgotten quickly. In the Jump-off class on Friday, it happened again; but this time they made sure not to loiter on track, so they walked away with a 17th place and 100 Euros of the prize money at least.

Despite the silver lining, Remy was more and more convinced that - and reminded why - he wasn’t a good fit for an international show rider. As he knelt in the middle of his hotel room, surrounded by discoloured cushion covers and a boring French suburb that was miles away from the beauty of a tourist hotspot, a headache drilling deep into his very substance, he was close to calling it quits before it had properly begun.

“I swear I had them here,” he muttered to himself while he dug through the contents of the bag, searching for his little box of painkillers to try and get rid of the migraine before the competition started. He hadn’t used this bag in years. It reminded him of a time long past, when he had been travelling the world with his champion horse Bonlieu. Back in the day, this lifestyle had fulfilled him entirely - bags always packed for the next journey overseas, going from show to show without a break… until he had traded it for a different life. Family life. On the eve of his second daughter’s birth, he had stuffed this bag into the furthest corner of his closet, never to take it out again.

Until now.

Eventually, he pulled a small box out of a side pocket, relieved. But when he opened the lid to shake one of the pills into his hand, he noticed that it had a different label... he froze.

Oh.

Oh no.

I thought I had thrown them all away.

Remy quickly closed the container and slipped it back into the bag. Thankfully he found the right pills soon after, flushed one down with the water bottle from the nightstand and spread himself out on the hotel bed with his show jacket over his face to wait for the nagging pain to subside.

An hour later, he walked across the Parc de Champagne, now in full competition regalia, and tried to follow the conversation of his teammates. The arena would open for the course walk in a few minutes - the closer the competition edged, the more spectators swarmed the park. Clouds of ever darker shades gathered above. Two mealy bay drafts pulled a little cart full of visitors past them.

Remy looked down on the phone in his hand; and just as expected, it burst into one of the default ringtones. Smiling, he returned the call.

“Hey, babe,” Georgia’s voice reached his ear from a cacophony of background noise; mostly childrens’ voices and what sounded like a TV program.

“Hey.”

He nodded to the rest of the group, signalling them not to wait for him, before he sat down on a bench that a young couple had just cleared to search for a good seat on the sloping lawn that overlooked the grass arena.

“We’ve set up the livestream,” Georgia said. “We just wanted to wish you good luck.” (A Good Luck! likewise from Perine, followed by a high-pitched scream from Noemi.)

Remy frowned. “Are you alright? You sound tired.”

A sigh. “It’s a bit much,” Georgia admitted. “He’s crying a lot. Noemi has gone on the rampage. I guess we all miss you.”

Remy swallowed hard. “I miss you too,” he said, his voice choking up. In the background, he could hear faint crying, first of the baby and then of a second voice: Noemi, who screamed something that he couldn’t understand, and then Georgia turning away from the phone to reason with her.

“I’m sorry,” she returned to the call with a tired, shaky voice that dripped with frustration. “I haven’t slept in forever. No matter what I do, I can’t get Émile to settle -”

“Can you ask Catherine to help you?”

“...She’s out showing.”

“What about Mrs Papadopoulos?”

“Goodness Remy, you know what she thinks about us. She complained about the noise yesterday -” Georgia took a deep breath. “I’ll be fine.”

That was a lie. A lump sat in Remy’s throat - he wished he could help her, but never had he felt the thousands of miles between them more painfully than now. “Georgia, love -” he murmured. “I’ll tell James that this has been a terrible idea. Dick can take over the horse, and I’m coming home. This will never work -”

“Remy, no,” Georgia interrupted him. “Really, I’ll manage. I didn’t want to upset you. Ride your class, you’ll do well.”

“Can you give me Noemi, please?”

Rustling, a muted voice, then the sobs of a toddler, sharp and clear at his ear.

“Noemi, boo, why are you crying?"

The girl did not want to listen. “Papa come back!” her tiny voice sounded between hiccups. “The baby is loud and Perine hits me all the time-!” (“Not true!” from the back of the room.)

“But that’s no reason to scream at your Mommy -”

“Papa come back!!”

“I’ll be home soon, but I need you to be good and do what your Mommy says, okay?”

“NO!!” More unintelligible screaming.

Then his wife again. “She’ll calm down,” Georgia sighed. “Sorry. Think of your ride, we’re watching and keeping our fingers crossed.”

“Thank you...”

A glance to the arena and he jumped from his seat. The other competitors were already swarming in to walk the course, and the entrance was at the opposite side of where he sat.

“Love you - good luck!” Georgia said.

Remy felt his mind unravel.

It was still a ball of entangled yarn when he rode into the arena a while later, the most unproductive of course walks of his career behind him and what he was convinced would be the most disastrous of rides before him. The anxiety was back; his hands trembled so violently he almost couldn’t sort his reins. His place was at home with his family, that’s where he ought to be, not on a world tour with a horse he had no right riding. This was not the time for delusions of grandeur. He should have rejected Peter’s offer right away.

But the house, the house…

Before he knew what happened, he felt tears run down his cheeks. Oh please, not now, he thought, and wiped the water from his eyes. The girls are watching, how embarrassing. The weight of his failure hit him like a train; he wasn’t the father he was supposed to be, he was only a weak joke of a man. It was time to stop crying and be strong… for them. For Georgia, for Perine, for Noemi, for Émile… and for Laurie. Sucking in a breath through his stuffy nose, he shortened his reins with new resolve and looked up.

What did it mean to be a father?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Remember this? "It will be updated with a proper chapter in due time" -Shotechi, 2019

Ha! ha.

Anyway, the time is now. This is this chapter.

With the last one, we have left exposition mode, with this one we're thrown right into the fray. Hope you like it, I've certainly looked at it long enough xD

I began working on this animation in October 2021, after having looked forward to it ever since drawing that original little scene. I had high expectations for this shot, I knew how I wanted it to look, knew what I wanted to achieve with the acting, wanted it to become the centerpiece in my next showreel or something. (If you're wondering why it ended up taking so long: coincidentally, we also began production of our graduation film in October 2021.)
In the end, my own expectations hindered me more than they helped me - nothing satisfied me, I struggled with the construction so much I had a hard time focusing on the performance, I began clean up way too early and so tied my own hands... I also made the mistake of showing the animation to my mentor at school for feedback. Don't get me wrong, feedback is good and helpful, but in this case I've once again been reminded of why I keep my personal work strictly separate from my school work. I hated it so much I couldn't look at it for two months. In the end it was still good feedback and improved the end result but boi... this should not have taken 9 months to birth. At some point I had to give up and make peace with it, but I'm still a bit pissed. I really wanted it to be something I could be proud of.
Do I like it? Maybe soon. Will I put it into my showreel like I thought? Probably not. For now I'm just relieved to have it off my shoulders so I can move on and ONE DAY get to draw and write happy Remy bruuhh

Art, story, characters (c) by me, filmed myself for reference like all the pro animators do but in this case it didn't help at all, some people act better in their head

Animated in TV Paint, compositing done in After Effects, background in CSP, many errors tried to thwart completion and upload but i prevailed

Description

dA give me my gif previews back!! -sobs over the loss of my chapter overview grid-

Complete Storyline "A Tale Of Two Fathers" Previously | CHAPTER 25 | Next

Storyline folder "Beautiful That Way"
Previously | Next

~ What previously happened ~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I want to sit at home in my rockin' chair
I don't want to travel the world
As far as I'm concerned I've had my share
But time’s more precious than gold
I don't wanna see another airplane seat
Or another hotel room
The home life to me seems really neat
I just wanna unpack for good

Fleetwood Mac - Homeward Bound

Music.

Remy | May 2019

Remy knelt over his travel bag, an ice pack pressed against his left temple.

Through the hotel’s thin curtains fell a streak of sunlight, appearing and disappearing with the panorama of clouds moving by - a perfect illustration of how the week had gone by so far. Heavy rain took turns with sunshine, disappointment followed success, migraines came and left. It was unpredictable, just like the future.

To kick off their summer circuit, James had secured a last minute invitation to a three-star event in Reims, Northern France, and at a moment’s notice, shipped the entire team overseas. A three-star was as good as it got for now. None of them ranged on top level yet: Remy hadn’t competed regularly for years, Dick hadn’t had the horses before and Vitoria was only starting to make waves among the Seniors. But despite his rag-tag team, James had his eye on the south, on St. Tropez, Valence, Vilamoura, where the creme de la creme was meeting - he was adamant to make his way there to more glorious, more glamorous events. But to achieve that, the riders would have to collect good results to improve their global ranking, and that proved a harder task than anticipated.

Going into the Grand Prix on Sunday, Remy and his chestnut Mike already had two classes under their belts. Thursday’s 145cm competition had seen them in the last third of the pack with a knocked rail - a result that was forgotten quickly. In the Jump-off class on Friday, it happened again; but this time they made sure not to loiter on track, so they walked away with a 17th place and 100 Euros of the prize money at least.

Despite the silver lining, Remy was more and more convinced that - and reminded why - he wasn’t a good fit for an international show rider. As he knelt in the middle of his hotel room, surrounded by discoloured cushion covers and a boring French suburb that was miles away from the beauty of a tourist hotspot, a headache drilling deep into his very substance, he was close to calling it quits before it had properly begun.

“I swear I had them here,” he muttered to himself while he dug through the contents of the bag, searching for his little box of painkillers to try and get rid of the migraine before the competition started. He hadn’t used this bag in years. It reminded him of a time long past, when he had been travelling the world with his champion horse Bonlieu. Back in the day, this lifestyle had fulfilled him entirely - bags always packed for the next journey overseas, going from show to show without a break… until he had traded it for a different life. Family life. On the eve of his second daughter’s birth, he had stuffed this bag into the furthest corner of his closet, never to take it out again.

Until now.

Eventually, he pulled a small box out of a side pocket, relieved. But when he opened the lid to shake one of the pills into his hand, he noticed that it had a different label... he froze.

Oh.

Oh no.

I thought I had thrown them all away.

Remy quickly closed the container and slipped it back into the bag. Thankfully he found the right pills soon after, flushed one down with the water bottle from the nightstand and spread himself out on the hotel bed with his show jacket over his face to wait for the nagging pain to subside.

An hour later, he walked across the Parc de Champagne, now in full competition regalia, and tried to follow the conversation of his teammates. The arena would open for the course walk in a few minutes - the closer the competition edged, the more spectators swarmed the park. Clouds of ever darker shades gathered above. Two mealy bay drafts pulled a little cart full of visitors past them.

Remy looked down on the phone in his hand; and just as expected, it burst into one of the default ringtones. Smiling, he returned the call.

“Hey, babe,” Georgia’s voice reached his ear from a cacophony of background noise; mostly childrens’ voices and what sounded like a TV program.

“Hey.”

He nodded to the rest of the group, signalling them not to wait for him, before he sat down on a bench that a young couple had just cleared to search for a good seat on the sloping lawn that overlooked the grass arena.

“We’ve set up the livestream,” Georgia said. “We just wanted to wish you good luck.” (A Good Luck! likewise from Perine, followed by a high-pitched scream from Noemi.)

Remy frowned. “Are you alright? You sound tired.”

A sigh. “It’s a bit much,” Georgia admitted. “He’s crying a lot. Noemi has gone on the rampage. I guess we all miss you.”

Remy swallowed hard. “I miss you too,” he said, his voice choking up. In the background, he could hear faint crying, first of the baby and then of a second voice: Noemi, who screamed something that he couldn’t understand, and then Georgia turning away from the phone to reason with her.

“I’m sorry,” she returned to the call with a tired, shaky voice that dripped with frustration. “I haven’t slept in forever. No matter what I do, I can’t get Émile to settle -”

“Can you ask Catherine to help you?”

“...She’s out showing.”

“What about Mrs Papadopoulos?”

“Goodness Remy, you know what she thinks about us. She complained about the noise yesterday -” Georgia took a deep breath. “I’ll be fine.”

That was a lie. A lump sat in Remy’s throat - he wished he could help her, but never had he felt the thousands of miles between them more painfully than now. “Georgia, love -” he murmured. “I’ll tell James that this has been a terrible idea. Dick can take over the horse, and I’m coming home. This will never work -”

“Remy, no,” Georgia interrupted him. “Really, I’ll manage. I didn’t want to upset you. Ride your class, you’ll do well.”

“Can you give me Noemi, please?”

Rustling, a muted voice, then the sobs of a toddler, sharp and clear at his ear.

“Noemi, boo, why are you crying?"

The girl did not want to listen. “Papa come back!” her tiny voice sounded between hiccups. “The baby is loud and Perine hits me all the time-!” (“Not true!” from the back of the room.)

“But that’s no reason to scream at your Mommy -”

“Papa come back!!”

“I’ll be home soon, but I need you to be good and do what your Mommy says, okay?”

“NO!!” More unintelligible screaming.

Then his wife again. “She’ll calm down,” Georgia sighed. “Sorry. Think of your ride, we’re watching and keeping our fingers crossed.”

“Thank you...”

A glance to the arena and he jumped from his seat. The other competitors were already swarming in to walk the course, and the entrance was at the opposite side of where he sat.

“Love you - good luck!” Georgia said.

Remy felt his mind unravel.

It was still a ball of entangled yarn when he rode into the arena a while later, the most unproductive of course walks of his career behind him and what he was convinced would be the most disastrous of rides before him. The anxiety was back; his hands trembled so violently he almost couldn’t sort his reins. His place was at home with his family, that’s where he ought to be, not on a world tour with a horse he had no right riding. This was not the time for delusions of grandeur. He should have rejected Peter’s offer right away.

But the house, the house…

Before he knew what happened, he felt tears run down his cheeks. Oh please, not now, he thought, and wiped the water from his eyes. The girls are watching, how embarrassing. The weight of his failure hit him like a train; he wasn’t the father he was supposed to be, he was only a weak joke of a man. It was time to stop crying and be strong… for them. For Georgia, for Perine, for Noemi, for Émile… and for Laurie. Sucking in a breath through his stuffy nose, he shortened his reins with new resolve and looked up.

What did it mean to be a father?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Remember this? "It will be updated with a proper chapter in due time" -Shotechi, 2019

Ha! ha.

Anyway, the time is now. This is this chapter.

With the last one, we have left exposition mode, with this one we're thrown right into the fray. Hope you like it, I've certainly looked at it long enough xD

I began working on this animation in October 2021, after having looked forward to it ever since drawing that original little scene. I had high expectations for this shot, I knew how I wanted it to look, knew what I wanted to achieve with the acting, wanted it to become the centerpiece in my next showreel or something. (If you're wondering why it ended up taking so long: coincidentally, we also began production of our graduation film in October 2021.)
In the end, my own expectations hindered me more than they helped me - nothing satisfied me, I struggled with the construction so much I had a hard time focusing on the performance, I began clean up way too early and so tied my own hands... I also made the mistake of showing the animation to my mentor at school for feedback. Don't get me wrong, feedback is good and helpful, but in this case I've once again been reminded of why I keep my personal work strictly separate from my school work. I hated it so much I couldn't look at it for two months. In the end it was still good feedback and improved the end result but boi... this should not have taken 9 months to birth. At some point I had to give up and make peace with it, but I'm still a bit pissed. I really wanted it to be something I could be proud of.
Do I like it? Maybe soon. Will I put it into my showreel like I thought? Probably not. For now I'm just relieved to have it off my shoulders so I can move on and ONE DAY get to draw and write happy Remy bruuhh

Art, story, characters (c) by me, filmed myself for reference like all the pro animators do but in this case it didn't help at all, some people act better in their head

Animated in TV Paint, compositing done in After Effects, background in CSP, many errors tried to thwart completion and upload but i prevailed