[PQ] Half of me wants a cold beer, the other half does too

// You could be lonely, or heartbroken—Or hungover from the night before //

The idea that had taken root last season had begun to sprout and climb into something visible and wild. Throughout the span of Longheat she'd been in discussions with vendors, traveled to and from the markets to get the supplies, repaired old bleachers into something to be proud of again, and even secured the prize belt buckle. Yet, the list remained long and the time to finish it seemed only to shorten. Through it all the ranch still required her attention for all it's day to day affairs. Every loose end began to bother her, and she figures it's finally time to own up to needing a bit of help with this job. So, she'd put the word out, sweetened with the promise of food and drinks for whoever is willing to come by and help her lay this to rest.

She's in the main arena, a handful of dogs scattered around it in various forms of sunbathing and general lazing. In the back, where you can't see, cattle can be heard lowing as they're whistled from one pen to another by some of her ranch hands. They're shifting the stock to specific corrals in preparation, and some of the dogs with energy to spare are helping. The flurry of their paws kicks up dust as they put pressure on the uncertain herd, nipping at a straggling fetlock or two before whipping around like rogue shadows under gates and over fences. A few men on horseback move around the arena, passing through or working on a youngster that needs a busy setting to be tested against.

Colt's busy laying out the ice chest full of water and beer along the bottom step of the bleachers, the tins of lemon cookies and brownies already beside it with small plates and napkins, held down with a polished rock on top to keep the wind from snagging them too. She's got gloves and chaps laid out in case the help joining her didn't dress for getting dirty. The worst of the day's heat is behind them as it starts to slip lower in the sky, but her hair is twisted back in a pony tail to keep her cool all the same. Sweat and dirt lines darken her yellow cotton shirt, testament to the work she's already done today. Jeans, chaps, hat, and boots finish her dress, all creased with some dust from earlier rides or equipment moves.

Sighing out a bit through her nose, Colt reaches over for one of the beers and cracks it, leaning against the arena railing as she waits.

---

Time to prep for the rodeo! Please post your character arriving and grabbing any gear, food, or beverages.

1. Colt
2. Hawthorn
3. Zenith
4. ???

COLT

// Turn that frown into a smile real quick—There ain't nothin' that a beer can't fix //

// and it's alright, that's the way i like it —

For once, Thorn is actually dressed down. Though, down for the courtesan isn’t really much at all. It’s older clothes, ones that can definitely get dirty without issue. A nice pair of dark jeans adorns him, tight and clinging (because it was all he owned, really), as well as a tank top, mostly covered by another old shirt that already has the beginning of a frayed hole in the side. His hair is pushed back out of his face as he steps up into the ranch, searching for Colt immediately because he doesn’t want to be late.

But there, he spots her setting out some food and drinks and immediately moves himself over toward her with a bright smile and a wave. “Hey Colt.” Comes the soft greeting, before he’s straightening his spine and popping a playful salute from his forehead with two fingers. “Ready when you are!” His smile brightens, but already post salute, the courtesan is reaching for a glass of water and a lemon cookie.

He’d already worked most of the day, but he’d promised he’d show for this - and he’s definitely not going to complain when there were such good snack options around.

---

Thorn arrives and snags a glass of water and a lemon cookie to nibble on!

thorn

— getting crucified,
every time you cross my mind //

come real quick & get inside my mind

Vesper arrives with the sun on his shoulders and a roll to his gait that says he’s in no particular hurry, but has every intention of pulling his weight once he gets there. His shirt is half-unbuttoned and rolled at the sleeves, faded linen clinging in places from the heat, while the rest of him—sand-washed jeans, scuffed boots—carries the easy, dust-dappled confidence of someone made for summer. A light sheen of sweat glistens on his collarbone, already darkening the neckline of his shirt, but he doesn’t seem to mind the heat one bit.

The sight of Colt in her yellow shirt and dust-lined chaps stops him for just a breath longer than it should. He doesn’t say much when he joins her, just flashes a crooked grin that’s all teeth and mischief, tipping her a slow wink like they didn’t ride through hell and back together and then some. "Darlin'," he drawls low, like it’s a secret and a joke all at once, before turning to size up the rest of the scene.

His eyes land on Hawthorn next, taking in the tailored chaos of the other man’s outfit with a tilt of his head and a spark of recognition. "You’re one’ve the House staff, right?" he asks, voice casual as his shadows flick faintly near the edge of his boots. He nods, amiable and dry. "Seen you around. Vesper." No hand offered, but the look in his eyes is sharp and weighing—not unkind, just measuring. Not often a pretty face from the House showed up to get their hands dirty.

With that done, he drops down beside the ice chest, crouching to grab a water. "What’s first, boss?" he asks Colt, voice raised just enough to carry above the bustle of dogs and hoofbeats, gaze flicking sideways toward the dusty arena.

If one's soul reflects the moon

In all honesty, Zen can think of a dozen places off the top of his head where he'd rather be right now. But a bet is a bet, and the lady from the docks had solidly won it. At least she was kind enough to make sure that Zen had the proper clothes and gear for the event. The boots are still unfamiliar, not as comfortable as his usual. But at least they're the right size.

Adjusting the gloves on his hands for a moment, the Demi-god double checks that he has everything that he needs. Afterwards, Zen settles near the edge of the area, sipping a glass of water as he listens to the others converse. Vesper is a bit of a surprise, but the other Demi-god's presence isn't important enough for Zen to act on.

~
Zen arrives and downs some water.

Zenith

Half will always be dark

// You could be lonely, or heartbroken—Or hungover from the night before //

A grin returns the familiar voice's greeting as she brightens at the sight of Thorn. He'd told her he'd come, so she's not surprised, but given how busy he keeps himself she wouldn't have blamed him if the idea of coming to do some labor at the end of the day ended up keeping him home. "Thorn!" she says warmly, hugging him before he grabs his drink and snack. Releasing him to sink back against the railing, a support to be grateful for when she catches sight of the next arrival.

Vesper is a surprise that snatches her up into something breathless for a moment. She didn't expect to see him again until the day of the rodeo—needed that time to finish shoring up all the defenses he'd pulled down so effortlessly. Even now, his easy smile and the syrup of his voice slide over the edges of her, testing without trying. "Vesper," she welcomes him with a twist of a smile, glad to see him, always glad to see him, despite her having to do her damndest to ignore the sun-stroked thoughts he conjures. When he isn't looking, she aims a pointed glance at Thorn, eyebrows dramatically raised.

Downing her beer as the last man arrives, she glances at Zenith with the quiet curiosity of someone she hasn't quite finished making a judgement call about. She pats her gloves on her pants as she shoves off the arena railing, slipping them over her hands as she addresses them all. "Alright, we need—" whatever else she'd been about to say is cut off by a sudden yell to look out and a clang of metal straining under newfound weight. Across the way a bull busts through a failing chute, head high with authority as he surveys the new opening of the arena and all its distractions upon which to set his anger. Territorial at the best of times, irritated at being moved currently, the impressive weight and muscle of the beast ripples with dangerous intent as he charges across the dirt. Chaos ensues as the present men, horses, and dogs all scramble out of the way. Ranch hands in the back yell out, one new gate opening fast, though it's on the other side.

---

Round 1: Don't get gored and lead the bull into the newly opened gate to get him out of the arena!

COLT

// Turn that frown into a smile real quick—There ain't nothin' that a beer can't fix //

come real quick & get inside my mind

Vesper doesn’t miss Zenith 's approach or him lingering at the edge, sipping water like he’s trying to blend into the fencing. He clocks him immediately—same uncanny stillness, same thread of celestial power folded too neat beneath mortal skin—and meets his gaze with a long, slow look. The peppermint bark shifts between his fingers as he plucks it free from his mouth. "Hello to you too, brother," he calls dryly, loud enough for the arena to hear. No venom, but no sugar either. Just enough bite to say he noticed the snub and didn’t care for it.

But there’s no time to needle further. The warning shout cuts through the heat like a blade, and Vesper’s head snaps toward the clatter just in time to see the bull thunder free. The earth seems to quake with its fury, every stomp churning dust into the air as hooves tear grooves into the packed dirt. Chaos breaks like surf—dogs barking, men shouting, hooves pounding—and Vesper’s already moving. He jabs two fingers between his lips and whistles loud and sharp, the sound slicing clean through the din.

"Hey, you ugly bastard," he mutters under his breath, more for the bull than anyone else, and flicks a hand. His shadows lash out like bait, slithering across the bull’s periphery in dark, tempting flashes—meant to catch its eye, to rile it toward him.

And if and when the beast takes the bait—head swinging, muscles bunching for another charge—Vesper will have already vanished, mist and shadow slipping from his skin in a shimmer of darkness, before reappearing a dozen feet ahead, standing easy again, fingers waggling in invitation.

---

Vesper uses his shadows to try and get the bull's attention and then if it runs toward him, he'll misty-step his way toward the new pen.

// and it's alright, that's the way i like it —

The darlin’ is heard and processed immediately as Thorn pulls away from the warm hug he practically melts into from Colt. And it does little to keep him from twisting as he nibbles on the cookie to greet the man that arrives, certainly taking him in and giving him a slow, dragging look — appreciation mostly, but also absolute curiosity. His smile is bright yet sly, a traditional courtesan look of taking someone in when he nods his head to Vesper’s question. “That’s me. Thorn.” He says in a playful hum, settling beside Colt on the railing as the next person arrives.

Offering a nod to the additional help, Thorn’s gaze flits back to Colt as she begins to explain, only for the sudden call to look out and the rage of a bull distracts Thorn entirely, tossing him on edge within the fraction of a second. He watches Vesper and his shadows move with such ease it’s distractingly beautiful to watch, but the courtesan realizes he needs to work too.

Cursing under his breath, he slips into the pen and bolts to the other side where the latch has been open, and while he doesn’t know if it would truly work, he reaches out to the greenery that can be seen through this portion of the gate and uses his illusion magic, shifting the view to ripple slightly, distorting enough to hopefully piss off the bull more to head toward the opening. “Aye! Lookit this!” He calls out for a more verbal approach, too.

---

Thorn bolts to the other gate and uses his illusion magic to make the gate entrance ripple to hopefully attract the bull over toward it!

thorn

— getting crucified,
every time you cross my mind //

Zenith

Never turn your back on a tiger
their trust is only earned once

Zen tilts his head at Vesper's call, nodding after a moment. Had the other Demi-god actually wanted Zen to greet him upon arrival? How surprisingly sentimental of him. He'll keep it in mind for next time.

Before the woman can even begin to explain the event, the bull breaks loose and those present spring into action. With Vesper and Thorn moving to gain the animal's attention, Zen moves towards countermeasures. White fur breaks out and in a matter of heartbeats, a tiger takes his place. It feels good to let his more predatory side manifest and he has to consciously stop himself from initiating a hunt. Perhaps he'll indulge after this.

For now, though, the feline stalks forward with bared teeth. Thrashing his tail, Zen positions himself so that if the bull tries to swerve and flee the area, it'll have to face him instead. The Demi-god doubts he can take a raging bull in a fight at the moment, but with luck, the presence of a tiger will encourage it to move towards the gate.

~
Zen shifts into his tiger form to try and block the exit routes and force the bull to move towards the gate.

// You could be lonely, or heartbroken—Or hungover from the night before //

Well, with so many wonderful men to handle the mess, Colt is fine just jumping up some railings and hanging on while the brute storms past. In the corner some outriders have already come to their rescue, not that they need it now that Vesper and Hawthorn have put on quite a pretty show to lure the bull toward them. Like a hungry fish in a lake, the simple creature is drawn to the flashing movement of the whipping shadows and the shimmer of illusion. He flings his head, an arc of spit trailing over him, as he trots towards the distractions with an almost playful intent. At least, he might have merrily gone after them and been shut away behind the new gate until Zenith's tiger appeared behind him, adding more than some pep back to his step.

The bull changes gears, interest flipping to a mild panic as he bellows a warning to his ladies he knows are still out there beyond the hills of pipe corral. His pace becomes urgent in the need to escape the predator, whites of his eyes flashing as he throws his head and runs without care into the new chute, his mass thrown wildly against the fenceline in his eagerness. The metal bows and mangles beneath him, connections snapping further down as the whole line of fence shifts and sags against the ruinous bull. Men whistle the beast one, yelling down the line for gates to open fast, and the beast eventually settles when it's back with its own kind and the tiger is out of sight.

"WHAT THE FUCK TOMMY!?" Colt hollers towards the first gate that had flung open unexpectedly and let the bull come barreling into the unsuspecting arena. The glare she cuts across the dirt to the men working in the back who yell back some crumpled apologies promises to get to the bottom of who exactly she'd be putting on her shitlist later. Mistakes happen, it's part of the job, but this mistake happened because someone didn't close several gates, or because someone put pressure on at the wrong time, likely in a rush to be done for the night. Congrats to them, they just made more work.

Slipping back to ground level, Colt sighs and glances back towards her gathered help. "Vesper, Hawthorn, can you swap out those busted panels with fresh ones and reset the line? There's spares behind the judging booth." Turning her attention to Zenith, she jerks her chin at him. "Zenith, come with me, we gotta get the proper head gear on the roping steers."

Assuming he'd follow her, she walks to the opposite end of the arena the bull had just done, where a smaller chute and funnel of cattle lay. The steers are younger, come up to about rib-height on her at the shoulder, and their horns curve long and thick from their heads. They are in a line, pressed tight with just enough room to stand and some to turn if they have enough mind to do so. Colt grabs the railing and pops over it, settling on the other side near the first steer. She tucks an arm over the back of its head, palming its chin and lifting it up a bit as she leans her weight into it, legs spread for balance. "Helmets are there, I'll grab, you slip 'em on. They fasten easy, keeps 'em from getting rope burn around the base," she instructs coolly. They'll do this again and again for several head.

A beat later, casual and calm, aside from the grunt of effort as the steer flings its head. "So you and Vesper are brothers? How's that going—seems real warm between you two." Same mom she'd guess after seeing Zen's star writing. Funny that Ves hadn't mentioned Zen in their time together, when family had come up a time or two.

---

Good job the bull was attracted to your distractions and ran off into the correct area, but got scared by the tiger and bent some fence panels beyond repair on his way out.

Round 2: Vesper & Thorn have been tasked with swapping those panels out with new ones.
Zenith and Colt are putting protective gear on the roping steers.

COLT

// Turn that frown into a smile real quick—There ain't nothin' that a beer can't fix //

// and it's alright, that's the way i like it —

Thorn’s grin is vibrant as the bull starts to turn toward them, easily following Vesper’s misty step and his own flickering flare of magic to guide the creature over. And for a moment he thinks it’s all going to go perfectly, until the third that hadn’t spoken, suddenly shifts into a tiger. Thorn, immediately seeing the shift in the bull, is already hopping up and over the edge of the gate, using his flexibility and quick thinking to get the fuck out of dodge.

Watching as the bull slams into the chute and the bench shifts and snaps, Thorn straightens up outside of any potential crashed portions of fence, gaze finding Colt was she unleashes toward the help at the first gate. It gives him a moment to get back toward where Colt dishes out the tasks, nodding and flashing an easy smile as if to relieve her from worrying about anything else.

Flashing a wink toward Vesper, Thorn heads over toward the fucked up fencing. “Lemme get this portion apart an’ we can put the new one in ’n go down the line.” Vesper looked stronger than he was, which is why the courtesan chooses to have him haul the heavy stuff. And in favor for attempting to stealthily inspect the demigod for his friend (not realizing he’s a mind reader, of course), he opts for idle conversation as they work.

“So how d’ya know Colt?” He asks, the perfect mask of curiosity.

---

Thorn gets to work removing the panels that need to be replaced!

thorn

— getting crucified,
every time you cross my mind //

come real quick & get inside my mind

Whatever satisfaction Vesper gets from the bull following after him dies a swift, dusty death the second it slams into the fencing. His shadows still hiss along the dirt as he watches it thrash its way into the chute—though it’s the sight of white stripes and twitching whiskers behind it that earns a slow, sidelong glare from him. "Nice one," he mutters under his breath, eyes flicking toward Zenith. It’s not venom, exactly. Just the kind of drawled bite that lingers behind his teeth when someone makes a mess of his work and doesn’t seem terribly bothered by it.

He turns and strolls toward the mangled panels, tossing the rest of his peppermint bark into his mouth. Colt’s instructions echo somewhere behind him, but he’s already on the move, shadow tendrils snaking forward to test the warped edges of the fencing. No chance in hell he’s hauling it. Instead, one by one, he misty-steps the busted sections away, vanishing with a flicker of darkness and reappearing a dozen feet off to drop them near the booth.

Thorn’s thoughts flicker close enough to graze—protectiveness wrapped in sweet-talking charm, sharp as a thorn but careful not to draw blood. "Met her on my way to the House of Midnight," he says, shadows lifting a fresh panel into place beside him. "Wound up neck-deep in her quest shortly thereafter." His tone is nonchalant, but the glint in his eye says he remembers every blistering mile. "Hell of a way to get to know someone."

The panel thuds into the dirt as he eyes Thorn again, this time with the barest hint of a smile. "How ‘bout you? Seems like you and Colt go back a ways."

---

Vesp sasses his brother then helps Thorn with his shadows/misty step

If one's soul reflects the moon

The strength of the bull's reaction to him, is genuinely surprising. Zen had been expecting more resistance from the animal. Unexpected as it is, the creature's blatant fear is tantalizing. The Demi-god has to force himself to turn on his heel and return to human form. His brother's comment is ignored apart from a quirked brow. It's becoming increasingly clear that Vesper is more of a brat than anything.

Zen follows Colt and begins to secure the helmets. After the first one, he checks that he's done it correctly before moving on to the others. He's never experienced rope burn, and he doesn't intend to inflect it on any of the steer today. Colt's question is expected, and the Demi-god calmly continues his task as blue stars form in the air beside him.  (Yes. He doesn't like me. I tolerate him.) Zen doesn't have a high opinion of Vesper. But he doesn't outright dislike him either. If his brother is paying attention to what he's saying at the moment, Zen hardly cares. 

~
Zen helps Colt with the gear.

Zenith

Half will always be dark

// You could be lonely, or heartbroken—Or hungover from the night before //

She and Zenith fall into a rhythm of work that makes the task pass with little note. Hoist up the head, slide over the horn wraps, repeat. She only lifts her gaze up when the glimmer of his words scrawl against the air. Interesting. "Far be it from me to get in the middle of family matters," she says with a grunt that falls silent as one of the steers roots its head up and shoves her against the fence, knocking the wind from her for a minute. She drives an elbow against its shoulder, pushing it back out of her space with a grimace as she pulls back her air. "Doesn't much seem like tolerating your brother is the best approach. Might be worth talking it out—or try punching him, it helps." She shrugs, uncommitted to whatever Zenith decides. She's more curious about the start than the end.

"That oughta do it," she tells him as she leans up from the last steer, wiping a smear of dirt from her shoulder before popping back over the railing into the arena. "Heeeey, you boys done yet or what?" she calls over to Vesper and Hawthorn, glancing at the newly arranged panels with a satisfied smile. "We need to do some trial runs with the broncs next. Vesper and Zenith, can one of you get up on the chutes and put on the bucking rigging? The other should open the gate when it's ready. Horses are already behind the gates waiting." She motions with a nod towards the six gates across from them, restless heads tossing behind slatted metal. "John and Mikey will run the horse out the arena after a few seconds, don't let another one out until it's gone."

Not expecting a problem with her directions, she looks over to Hawthorn. "Thorn, you and me are gonna fix up a hole in the judge's booth, follow me." She waits for him to fall into step with her before they mosey out of the arena and swing around behind it, steps to the raised booth climbed steadily. "What'ya think?" she asks when she's certain they're far enough away. She raises an expectant 'brow to him before arriving at the top of the platform, wood slats creaking under her boots. She grabs a plank from the bundle already set there, some shopping trip of hers from earlier in preparation. There's a hammer and some nails that she motions to as she fits the plank into one of the gaps, the old wood already ripped out.

---

Colt and Zen have put gear on the roping cattle and Ves and Thorn have repaired the busted panels, yay!

Round 3: Finish up your round 2 tasks. Vesper and Zenith are to test the broncs, one puts on bucking rigging on the broncs in the chutes and the other opens the gate one at a time to trial run. Thorn and Colt head up to repair the judge's booth.

COLT

// Turn that frown into a smile real quick—There ain't nothin' that a beer can't fix //

// and it's alright, that's the way i like it —

Thorn and Vesper work in tandem, old bent portions removed and some with an added help of telekinesis where he needed it, only to shortly be replaced by the new fresh portions that Vesper provides. And all the while the courtesan spends time trying to snuff out anything off about the demigod. “Yeah. Ain’t that the truth.” He murmurs with a soft snort, glancing away from the child of the stars to move down a few paces more to the next section.

“We’ve always kinda seen each other here ‘n there. Didn’t fully meet ‘til she invited me out t’line dance. Now she can’t get rid’ve me.” He glances over toward Vesper with a playful wink, the charming courtesan smile, before he returns to his work, making idle conversation here and there.

With the panels finally replaced and the next task at hand, he dusts off his hands on his pants as he straightens up. “Yeah! We’re good!” He calls back as he starts heading back to listen for the next series of tasks. And when Colt picks him to accompany her this time, he moves into action almost immediately, sidling up beside her as they walk toward the judge’s booth.

Glancing at her sidelong when her question hits, the frown he offers is one that’s faint and there for a brief moment before it’s gone again. “He’s cute.” He says unhelpfully, flashing her a small smile. “Tough fuckin’ nut to crack though. Don’t know him enough to tell anythin’ other than meetin’ you was a wild ride.” At least that’s his little interpretation of hell of a way to get to know someone.

Which, y’know, is fairly accurate all things considered.

Snagging the hammer and nails and crouching beside Colt to start to nail the new board she places into position, he focuses extra on the work he does but his ears are entirely focused on Colt and her response.

---

Thorn starts nailing the board into place!

thorn

— getting crucified,
every time you cross my mind //