[SE] if you were a stampede you wouldn't get a kick

you wouldn't be the first renegade to need somebody

Mist curls and twists around Flora’s ankles, a ghostly tide licking at her boots as she carefully picks her way through the eerie, muted landscape of the Barrows. Spice flits anxiously overhead, her pale scales catching what little sunlight dares to penetrate the heavy fog. The dragon chirps a worried note, sensing trouble long before Flora hears the muffled thud of hooves on damp earth.

"Oh gods, seriously?" she mutters, spinning sharply on her heel to face the shadow-dark figure emerging from the gloom. The corrupted unicorn’s twisted horn slices through the swirling mist first, shadows dripping like tar from its inky mane. Flora’s grip tightens instinctively around one of her daggers, the blade glinting nervously in the pale light.

"Hey! Go on—get out of here," she snaps, voice pitched somewhere between annoyance and urgency. Her heart hammers wildly beneath her ribs, adrenaline chasing through her veins like lightning beneath the skin. Spice growls softly from above, darting protectively closer to her shoulder, frost flickering in his her jaws.

The unicorn tosses its head defiantly, nostrils flaring, dark eyes void-black and fathomless. It takes a challenging step closer, muscles coiled with barely restrained aggression. "I said fuck off," Flora warns again, louder this time, shaking the dagger threateningly, though her hesitation to use it is painfully obvious. Killing one of the Family’s corrupted pets would surely mean more trouble—more than she’s already invited upon herself lately—and yet, there’s absolutely no way she's dying over some edgy unicorn's tantrum in the middle of this gods-forsaken burial ground.

---

Corrupted Unicorns (Uncommon/mythical): Once beings of purity and grace, the Unicorns have become corrupted vessels of the void. Their coats, now darkened with shadows, conceal a malevolent power. Instead of healing, the touch of a Corrupted Unicorn spreads void taint, infecting wounds with the darkness of the void. These once-majestic creatures now roam the land, their hooves leaving behind echoes of void-laden despair

doing fine enough to know that everyone's a little broken

Colt was familiar with the barrows, but she didn't often frequent them. Call her superstitious, but something about walking all around where the dead were buried didn't sit right with her. Not to mention the perpetual fog that slithered through here as if a living beast, or some spiritual manifestation. Just thinking of it made her skin crawl. No, thank you, she much preferred the wildflower speckled meadows that were nearby, the ones she was trying to get back to after chasing down a dumb dog that had gotten spooked by a thunderstorm and took off in a straight line, as if that would save him.

Said dog panted eagerly in her lap now as she and her buckskin mare wove around the hillside of death.

It was then that Colt heard someone's voice rising above the dead quiet. While not unusual for others to be here, especially if they were tending to the graves or paying respects. No what was strange was the pitch the voice called out in. It could be an argument between a family, Colt supposed, but something in her gut told her there was danger and that the person yelling was in trouble. With a low kiss and press of her heels, her buskin mare moved from a casual jaunt to a made dash, fog billowing in the wake of her black tail that flagged behind her. The dog braced uncertainly, but Colt held him close to her chest.

They rounded a bend and Colt saw the predicament just as the corrupted unicorn's head bobbed up in a threat. Her mare was already moving, but Colt urged her faster, grabbing for the rope at her side. They ran up quick, the buckskin's ears pinned back and teeth flashing as she challenged the strange unicorn. Colt lifted her hands, rope thumping in them, in an attempt to make herself look bigger while she aggressively tutted at the wild and infected thing. "HAH, HAH HAH HAH!" she yelled sternly, the dog's voice rising with hers in a burst of angry barks.

For the first time in a long time, I'm doing fine

COLT

you wouldn't be the first renegade to need somebody

The corrupted unicorn throws its head back sharply with a defiant shriek, shadows dripping like oil from its inky mane as it half-rears, front hooves slicing through the dense mist in warning. Eyes blacker than pitch roll towards the charging buckskin mare and her rider, the challenge clear but tempered now with a wary flicker. It snorts sharply, breath steaming with void-dark fury as it paws aggressively at the damp earth, scattering clods of grass and dirt.

Flora’s eyes widen with surprise and relief as her gaze snaps to the newcomer—clearly experienced, poised and fiercely confident in the saddle. Adrenaline and fear momentarily forgotten, she lets out a breathless laugh, dagger still raised defensively even as she shifts a cautious step back.

"Gods, your timing is impeccable," she calls to the woman, voice bright and edged with lingering tension. Spice circles overhead, the little dragon chittering worriedly, frost flickering in her jaws. Flora’s heart continues its wild drumbeat, but at least now she doesn't feel quite as alone against the corrupted beast’s stubborn threat.

doing fine enough to know that everyone's a little broken

Colt couldn't deny the hammer of her heart in her chest as they faced the vile thing this once proud beast had become. She had hoped the ugly face her mare threw out and the slap of her voice would have been enough to startle the wretched creature, but she supposed she should just be grateful it kept her from getting run through by its imposing horn. Her mare shifted anxiously beneath her, teeth snapping past the bit to grip air, a clack of warning that Colt wasn't positive they had the strength to back up.

"Don't thank me yet," Colt laughed faintly, the sound nervous as she kept her attention locked on the wild beast. "I have an idea though," she muttered as she grabbed her rope from her side. It only took a few wrist flicks and she had a broad loop formed by her hip, nearly touching the ground, while her other hand held the tail and the reins. She dipped her head down abruptly, gripping her hat in her rope hand. With a grunt she tossed it towards the unicorn's head and reined her mare to the other side. Quick as a blink her same hand spun the rope around her head once, twice, and then she tossed it not far behind the trail of her hat. The loop was big, but she hoped it wouldn't slip onto the beast's neck. She was aiming to catch it's horn, and needed the size to get past the tip, one that she hoped was angling away from her hat trick. If not, she might just slap it in the face, in which case heels and hooves would be all that saved her from a goring.

"Make yourself big," she called out to the stranger, not wanting the girl to appear the easier target if things went south.

For the first time in a long time, I'm doing fine

COLT

you wouldn't be the first renegade to need somebody

Flora doesn’t hesitate, though her heart is slamming against her ribs like it’s trying to make a break for it. At Colt’s command, she drops into movement, slipping the dagger back into its sheath and flaring her arms wide instead. Her oversized sweater billows like a sail in the mist, gold rings flashing faintly as her fingers spread. She lifts her chin, jaw set hard, and stares down the corrupted unicorn like she’s got no intention of dying today—not in this gods-forsaken graveyard, not at the hooves of some goth-glam void horse.

"Yeah, alright, big. Big I can do," she mutters under her breath, trying to ignore the icy trickle of fear down her spine as she takes a single, defiant step forward. Spice circles above, hissing encouragement through her teeth, icy frost curling from her tiny nostrils. The dragon doesn’t dive—not yet—but her tension mirrors Flora’s perfectly, wings twitching, ready to defend her bond at a moment’s notice.

Flora’s eyes flick to the hat, then the rope, tracking Colt’s gamble with razor focus. It’s a bold move. She likes bold moves. If it works, she’ll owe this stranger more than just a drink. And if it doesn’t—well, at least she’ll die doing what she does best: taunting something wildly dangerous while wearing too much eyeliner.

doing fine enough to know that everyone's a little broken

As she'd hoped the void beast turned its horn on the assault of her attack, which allowed her lasso to sail directly over the long and pointed tip. Quickly Colt pulled the rope taut, tightening the large loop needed to capture into a snug band to hold. She wrapped the slack around the horn, careful to keep her thumb up and out of the way of the tension, as well as the dog still barking wildly in her arms. Her mare moved away from the unicorn, guided by heels and herding sense. Like a leash, they tugged on the rope around the unicorn's horn. The beast gave into the pressure after an initial jerk. It was why she'd gone for the horn instead of the neck; unicorns were liable to charge you if you got their neck, the sword's reach dangerously long and precise. Control that blade, and you controlled the beast.

They loped away, and as they ran Colt began to ease some slack into the line, jostling the horn off and veering away. Already in motion, the unicorn continued, likely a little rattled from having its horn held so firmly. It was alive though, and no worse for the wear. Much as she loathed the infected creatures, pitied them, she couldn't bring herself to attack the poor unicorns that had fallen to the poison.

Colt worked her lasso back into a coil as the buckskin mare trotted back towards Flora. The dog had quieted, its tongue hanging free as if in exhaustion of all the hard work he'd done. "You alright?" Colt asked as they halted, her lasso looped back to the side of the saddle. She slid out of the leather seat, leaving the dog with the reins, and landed with a little hop near the stranger. "I'm Colt." She dipped her hat in greeting, offering an easy grin and wide eyes that seemed to say, 'that was a close one', as she dusted her pants off.

For the first time in a long time, I'm doing fine

COLT

you wouldn't be the first renegade to need somebody

Flora exhales like she’s just come up for air, the tension unwinding from her spine in slow, reluctant segments as the void unicorn gallops off into the mist. Her dagger lowers only a fraction, fingers still white-knuckled around the hilt, more out of habit than necessity. Spice circles overhead once before landing on a nearby mound with a disgruntled little chirp, wings flaring in dramatic solidarity.

"I’m—" She starts to say fine, but the word catches somewhere behind her teeth. With a short laugh, she gives a crooked smile instead, breathless and a bit shaky now that the adrenaline is ebbing. "Yeah. Yeah, I’m alright. Thanks to you."

As Colt swings down from her saddle, Flora straightens up, tucking the dagger away and brushing a lock of hair from her flushed face. She doesn’t miss the unspoken sentiment in Colt’s expression—the kind of silent holy shit that says they both knew how badly that could’ve gone. Her eyes flick down to the dog, whose tongue lolls with smug exhaustion, and her mouth quirks. "You too, hero."

Then, blinking up, she catches the name and offers her hand with a gold-ringed flourish. "Flora, and yeah, that was definitely a close one." Her grin edges toward sheepish. "Thanks for not letting me get impaled. I mean, I’ve had worse days, but still—not exactly the vibe I was going for."

doing fine enough to know that everyone's a little broken

Colt's lips quirked to the side in a half smile at Flora's easy-going response. She took the offered hand and shook it with a practiced strength, though she didn't find Flora's lacking either despite her appearance. "Flora," she murmurs thoughtfully, as if it's something she remembers. She paused for a moment, then seemed to grasp the memory and asked, "from the Family's broadcast?" A 'brow arched in time with the question, but it was more surprise than anything. Flora was shaken a bit, but Colt wondered if this was a familiar position for the woman. "I bet," she answered not long after asking, in reference to Flora definitely having worse days than this.

"I was just headed back to Meadowreach, I've got a ranch there. I can keep you company if you're headed that way, or, well, any way I suppose I'd do it so I can sleep tonight." Colt offered it casually, unbothered by the delay if it meant ensuring the stranger got where she needed to without resembling a bagel by the end. Not for the first time though, she quietly wondered why so many were prone to walking on their own feet through the dangerous expanses of Caido. Colt only tended to be on her own feet when she was in bed, and then that was just because there wasn't one big enough to fit her and a horse, yet.

For the first time in a long time, I'm doing fine

COLT

you wouldn't be the first renegade to need somebody

Flora chuckles under her breath at the mention of the broadcast, a sound caught somewhere between embarrassment and amusement. "Yeah. That’d be me. The walking cautionary tale." She lifts her shoulders in a loose shrug, letting her hand fall back to her side as she tacks on, "Though I prefer ‘Queen of Torchline with extremely questionable survival instincts.’ Rolls right off the tongue, don’t you think?"

The fact that Colt recognizes her isn’t unexpected—not after Vox had flung her name across Caido like confetti—but the absence of immediate judgment in the woman’s voice earns a flicker of gratitude in Flora’s eyes. She meets the rancher’s gaze evenly, a little impressed by how steady Colt seems after all that. Then again, you don’t rope a void unicorn by being timid.

At the offer to accompany her, Flora’s brows lift slightly, the faintest hint of surprise flickering across her face before it smooths into something warmer, more genuine. "Well, I was headed to Meadowreach to begin with, so looks like your conscience is safe for the night." She flashes a grin that’s only slightly worn at the edges now, a little more colour returning to her cheeks.

Reaching up to nudge Spice gently off her perch and onto her shoulder, Flora adjusts the little dragon with casual familiarity before nodding toward Colt’s horse. "Lead the way. And for the record—" she adds as they start walking, "-you’ve got seriously good aim. If I ever get skewered for real, I’m blaming you for raising my expectations too high."

~FIN