a snake with blue eyes

the highway won't dry your tears

The Suvahasi is a fever dream compared to the bleached desolation they’ve crawled through, but it's still one Vesper would quite like to wake up from. He picks his way forward with deliberate care, hooves muffled by moss and loam instead of bone-dry salt and cracking sand. It should be easier—cooler, shaded, rich with damp green underfoot—but the riot of plant life pressing in on all sides means it’s anything but. Every vine looks like a trap. Every bloom a test. Flowers breathe on the slightest stir of air, releasing curls of shimmering pollen that glitter like magic and promise a very bad time if disturbed.

His coat, still clinging to the salt and grime of the desert, blends awkwardly against the lush backdrop. His tail swishes once, heavy with sweat and humidity, as he pauses to consider a particularly overgrown patch ahead. One wrong step and they’ll be waltzing into whatever hallucination the Suvahasi’s flora wants to serve them. He snorts, ears twitching back toward Colt in a wordless warning to hang on.

They're better stocked now—blessedly. A merchant they crossed paths with had been Greatwood-bound and more than willing to trade extra water and rations in exchange for a few warnings about which not-quite-roads to avoid. Vesper hadn’t shifted back to talk. Colt had handled the details. He’d just stood nearby, still a horse, still sweat-soaked, while the trade happened around him like he was just part of the landscape.

the highway don't need you here

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

Colt

It's boots and chaps
It's cowboy hats
It's spurs and latigo

It feels strange to see the expanse of vegetation again after such a long stretch of desolation and beige. It's vibrant and wild in a manner that promises of better conditions, like the final jewel at the end of a terrible dungeon of sweat and sand. It's not the rolling open green expanse of her home though, not an ocean of grass but a labyrinth of stalks and vines that press in like a living tunnel. The leaves and petals lick at her passing skin and snag at her legs and boots, and each brush forces her closer to him, unwilling to disturb something and let the jungle have her.

She leans against his neck, her hair splashing over his as she presses her face in against the vantablack hide. Her hands have left his mane and loop around to his chest, while her toes angle in unnaturally, curving under his belly. Unlike before, she hugs into him out of necessity rather than weariness, attempting to smooth out every angle her body might provide for ominous foliage to catch on. Only the pack remains a bit risky, but she's pulled it taut against her back and hopes they don't need to duck any lower than this.

As he hesitates, she lifts her head up to peer past him, and it seems like it's a throat they stare into rather than a path. Dense with shadow and leaf, it seems apt to swallow them. She dips her head back down, arms and calves pressing into him more with the quiet understanding that she might be tugged on here, and she should not let it sweep her off him.

It's the ropes and the reins
And the joy and the pain
And they call the thing rodeo

the highway won't dry your tears

Vesper shifts his weight with deliberate precision, ears flicking forward and then back again as her arms wrap around his chest and her boots press tighter to his ribs. Her breath is warm against the side of his neck, her hair tangling in the damp curls of his mane, and the press of her body—practical though it may be—feels like being sealed into armour he never asked for. Not that he minds. Not that he’s capable of minding with how fucking tired he is.

What he does mind is how intimate it is, how naturally she tucks herself around the edges of him. Like this is the shape they’ve always had. Like it’s not driving something deep and complicated into his thoughts that he's ready to start scratching like an itch.

A single white flower looms too close overhead, its petals already trembling like it wants to burst into poison. Vesper plants one hoof into the damp earth and angles away, ribs hollowing slightly beneath Colt’s grip to give her more clearance. His stride shortens, the muscles in his back bracing so her weight won’t shift unnecessarily. They move forward like that: dark hide threading through green, dust and salt giving way to the hush of unseen birds and the click of insects in the canopy above.

Only the thought of stripping everything bear and collapsing into the ocean keeps him going. That, and the boast he'd made about not quittin' until she said stop which she was really putting to the fuck test.

the highway don't need you here

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

Colt

It's boots and chaps
It's cowboy hats
It's spurs and latigo

He skirts with precision and purpose, no movement wasted, especially not now when he toes the line of collapse. At least, she does. He's stronger, in so many ways, and she admires that fortitude and power. It's not an admittance of her own weakness, his abilities dont remove hers, but she can respect the difference between them. The difference right now is she is raw on her thighs, the riding grinding away skin and resolve bit by bit.

He continues though, for her, or something else, she isn't sure. This seems a peculiar length and drive for him to set himself against all because she asked, but maybe she understands even less of him than she thought, got his character wrong. He seems to type to quit when it serves him best, and yet, he's here, steadfast and stealing her breath in countless ways.

She tries not to excavate the meaning of it, tries not to run her own thoughts ragged, considers even delirium and a stubborn streak has played a role in both of their mettle. That and sometimes the only way out is through.

"Not much longer," she murmurs, whether to him or to her, its unclear.

It's the ropes and the reins
And the joy and the pain
And they call the thing rodeo

the highway won't dry your tears

His hooves land quieter now on the rich jungle loam, though his pace slows further as they near a tangled grove of vines and flower-thick branches, where the overgrowth is too thick to trust. Hallucinogenic pollen clings heavy to the air, glimmering faintly where the light breaks through the canopy—and he’s not about to risk them both seeing gods in the trees.

Instead, he veers gently west, the shift in direction subtle but certain, always mindful of the way Colt leans with or against him. His body aches—salt-stiffened and heat-wearied—but he doesn’t falter. The mud sucks at his hooves. The vines tug at his mane. Still, he moves. And why? Because she’s still on his back. Because she murmurs soft, quiet things meant for no one and maybe for him. Because if this was a mistake, it’s one he’s already chosen.

The grove falls behind them like a curtain. Shade deepens, vines thicken, but somewhere beyond, the hush of moving water teases the air with promise.

Almost there.

~FIN

the highway don't need you here

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3