COLT
The sound strikes suddenly against her strain, a victory of pain. She eases then, releasing his arm and dropping her leg back against the wagon. Her eyes don't leave him though, ringed with concern and admiration in equal parts as he visibly wrestles with the agony. He's surprisingly restrained, riding out the anguish without much show, like he's used to handling his hurt alone, or maybe just used to hurting.
She winces as he lurches against the wagon, ragged and worn, and she leans to the side to give him the room to recover. She tips her hat back off and steadily waves it beside him, granting him some air to breathe, a modest offering of comfort among the sweltering heat and the pain she'd inflicted. "Forget the peppermint stick, you need a cold beer," she mutters, reaching in her back pocket to pull out her blue and white bandana. She tends to keep one on her during this time of year, for when the roads get too dusty, especially with the wagons. She folds it up and gingerly swipes his 'brow free of the sweat clinging there as proof of his efforts.
At his question she laughs freely, all the ugliness tucked back inside where it belongs, hidden beneath gold and grit. "Hon, you could teach my hands a thing or two, you'll do just fine." She stills her hat, placing it in her lap so she can reach up and wind her hair around her hand, lifting it up off her neck. "We should probably get some ice on that as soon as we can," she advises. "It's a bit of a trek back to the ranch, so we might find something else on the way, but I have beer and ice at home."
She winces as he lurches against the wagon, ragged and worn, and she leans to the side to give him the room to recover. She tips her hat back off and steadily waves it beside him, granting him some air to breathe, a modest offering of comfort among the sweltering heat and the pain she'd inflicted. "Forget the peppermint stick, you need a cold beer," she mutters, reaching in her back pocket to pull out her blue and white bandana. She tends to keep one on her during this time of year, for when the roads get too dusty, especially with the wagons. She folds it up and gingerly swipes his 'brow free of the sweat clinging there as proof of his efforts.
At his question she laughs freely, all the ugliness tucked back inside where it belongs, hidden beneath gold and grit. "Hon, you could teach my hands a thing or two, you'll do just fine." She stills her hat, placing it in her lap so she can reach up and wind her hair around her hand, lifting it up off her neck. "We should probably get some ice on that as soon as we can," she advises. "It's a bit of a trek back to the ranch, so we might find something else on the way, but I have beer and ice at home."
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.
