COLT
Cowboys ain't easy to love
And they're harder to hold
And they're harder to hold
Beans is a blur of movement before Colt can even register what sends him skittering. He whirls with athletic ease, weight sat on his haunches as he shoves off with his front legs springs towards the bank in a flurry of water and mud. Colt scrambles to get out of his way—there's no training in hell that'd keep the terrified beast under her command now. She releases the rope before it peels her palms to the bone, and Beans is a dart through the forest, each hoof a thunder of survival as he streaks away.
"Fuckfuckfuckfuck," Colt chants under her breath as she sways, toes splaying to catch her weight against the breeze of the frenzied horse nearly catching her. She spares a glance back as the sound of splintering water promises to show her what exactly Beans determined to be scarier than her.
Wreathed in steam and sunlit-caught droplets, the molten tiger trounces through the water, and Colt's eyes widen in understanding and fear. No fucking way she can outrun that. "Fuckfuckfuckfuck," Colt breaths as she clambers back up the slope and runs towards the brush.
"Fuckfuckfuckfuck," Colt chants under her breath as she sways, toes splaying to catch her weight against the breeze of the frenzied horse nearly catching her. She spares a glance back as the sound of splintering water promises to show her what exactly Beans determined to be scarier than her.
Wreathed in steam and sunlit-caught droplets, the molten tiger trounces through the water, and Colt's eyes widen in understanding and fear. No fucking way she can outrun that. "Fuckfuckfuckfuck," Colt breaths as she clambers back up the slope and runs towards the brush.
They'll never stay home
And they're always alone
And they're always alone
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.
