COLT
She's no longer certain what had possessed her to run around all of Caido and tout about a Rodeo. The ranch isn't ready. She can barely keep up with repairs from all the wild unicorns busting through nearly every day, and now she needs to get the arena ready and rebuild the bleachers. She'd put the cart before the horse, as it were, all while actively trying to load assorted planks of wood into a horse-drawn cart. She's been making frequent trips here, and the materials just keep piling up by the side of the barn, taunting her with the promise of future work. "Why the fuck did I decide to do this in Longheat," she asks the wood that she's shoving a shoulder against without much success.
The stubborn lumber, the overbearing heat of the tall sun, the dozens of tasks laid out on the to do list of her mind—it's too much. With a gutteral noise of frustration Colt slaps both hands against the wood and sags against it. Her hair, wet with sweat, shifts down to cling annoyingly to her face as she pants with the wasted efforts. The button-up shirt, white with lines of blue, flutters faintly before also sticking to the edges of her heated skin. "Ge the FUCK on the wagon," she roars as she suddenly leans hard against the purchase again, throwing all her weight into the shoulder she jams against it. Her legs lean out at a sharp angle from her jean shorts, her boots cutting and sliding against the dock as she fights for traction.
The stubborn lumber, the overbearing heat of the tall sun, the dozens of tasks laid out on the to do list of her mind—it's too much. With a gutteral noise of frustration Colt slaps both hands against the wood and sags against it. Her hair, wet with sweat, shifts down to cling annoyingly to her face as she pants with the wasted efforts. The button-up shirt, white with lines of blue, flutters faintly before also sticking to the edges of her heated skin. "Ge the FUCK on the wagon," she roars as she suddenly leans hard against the purchase again, throwing all her weight into the shoulder she jams against it. Her legs lean out at a sharp angle from her jean shorts, her boots cutting and sliding against the dock as she fights for traction.
I had some help
It ain't like I can make this kinda mess all by myself
Don't act like you ain't help me pull that bottle off the shelf
It ain't like I can make this kinda mess all by myself
Don't act like you ain't help me pull that bottle off the shelf
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.
