COLT
I wish words were like little toy guns
No sting, no hurting no one
Just a bang, bang rolling off your tongue
No sting, no hurting no one
Just a bang, bang rolling off your tongue
Having been in Lena's exact position, Colt was grateful to be able to add some assistance in the other direction for once. "Oh please, this is fun! I'll help you anytime." Well, anytime she could spare, which wasn't often, but she suspected the mythical zookeeper understood that perfectly.
As they moved exhibits, Colt continued to admire the surrounding flora and how suitably the areas shifted from one preferred habitat into another. The change managed not to be jarring despite it being in tighter quarters than would naturally occur, and the detail for the depth of immersion was not wanting. As they moved into river territory and slipped into the glotter pen, it felt as if she should have been tired from days of travel. "Ooooh," Colt crooned softly at the mischievous little critters, crouching down near Lena and doing her best not to slip into the temptation of wanting to stroke one. At Lena's diplomatic response, Colt snorted. "Gods, I don't consider myself a coward, but you would never find me near a dragon. At least, not with dry pants." She laughed faintly, unashamed, and rightfully so for such intimidating brutes.
Straightening up, Colt rose back to her full height, cautious of her steps around the small wriggle worms. "Oh, can barely catch a break right now," she admitted, suddenly aware of how this wonderful field trip was actually for business and that each moment here was one gone from her work. Of course, she could not run such a place alone, and it was bustling still in her absence. "Foaling season and then not long after is weaning and saddling season." There was an edge to her voice that matched the gleam in her eyes. Much as she adored the foals and seeing the efforts of the past year's orhcastrating, the stretch of breaking out the two-year-olds for riding was perhaps her favorite. It was there that you saw the personality of each individual steed shine forth, their thoughts like gears churning as they tried to build a new language with their trainer so both could speak to each other and understand. Some were quick studies, some were as dumb as rocks. Some were gentle and open to your guidance, and others seemed born fighting, rebelling for no reason other than because. Those were perhaps her favorite for the challenge they offered, and because they usually ended up the best mounts with the most heart in the end, if you could make it all the way there.
As they moved exhibits, Colt continued to admire the surrounding flora and how suitably the areas shifted from one preferred habitat into another. The change managed not to be jarring despite it being in tighter quarters than would naturally occur, and the detail for the depth of immersion was not wanting. As they moved into river territory and slipped into the glotter pen, it felt as if she should have been tired from days of travel. "Ooooh," Colt crooned softly at the mischievous little critters, crouching down near Lena and doing her best not to slip into the temptation of wanting to stroke one. At Lena's diplomatic response, Colt snorted. "Gods, I don't consider myself a coward, but you would never find me near a dragon. At least, not with dry pants." She laughed faintly, unashamed, and rightfully so for such intimidating brutes.
Straightening up, Colt rose back to her full height, cautious of her steps around the small wriggle worms. "Oh, can barely catch a break right now," she admitted, suddenly aware of how this wonderful field trip was actually for business and that each moment here was one gone from her work. Of course, she could not run such a place alone, and it was bustling still in her absence. "Foaling season and then not long after is weaning and saddling season." There was an edge to her voice that matched the gleam in her eyes. Much as she adored the foals and seeing the efforts of the past year's orhcastrating, the stretch of breaking out the two-year-olds for riding was perhaps her favorite. It was there that you saw the personality of each individual steed shine forth, their thoughts like gears churning as they tried to build a new language with their trainer so both could speak to each other and understand. Some were quick studies, some were as dumb as rocks. Some were gentle and open to your guidance, and others seemed born fighting, rebelling for no reason other than because. Those were perhaps her favorite for the challenge they offered, and because they usually ended up the best mounts with the most heart in the end, if you could make it all the way there.
No smoke, no bullets
No kick from the trigger when you pull it
No pain, no damage done
Received a Gilded Market wig from Remi that resembles her usual hair and is enchanted to stay on better than most wigs | has a reverse centaur tattoo on her left hand with the legs going down her pointer and middle fingers that looks like this.
