Colt
It's boots and chaps
It's cowboy hats
It's spurs and latigo
It's cowboy hats
It's spurs and latigo
The distance falls away beneath them as pony boy coasts over the desert like a long shadow finally untethered by its source of light, free and floating. The sands shift to something firmer, something far more desolate. It's decorated with the brittle curl of heat so extreme even the ground is forced to peel and crack against it. The skeletons that are scattered read like a warning, and as accustomed as Colt is to the rise and fall of life in the world, the stark expanse of bone and nothing else sits like discomfort in her.
"I don't like it here," she murmurs to him as he threads his way with the steadiness of someone practiced, as surefooted as any of her most trusted mounts. It should not surprise her, he's capable in a number of ways, but she'd thought there'd be some adjustment period for him, some difficulty in this abnormal terrain. Some of the ground gives way underfoot, his weight loosening the already frail ground into the dried embers of its scorching. She leans with him, weight shifting with the slopes and the strides to keep out of his way as much as possible.
She glances up as the darkness has eked in further, the stars brighter against the backdrop of coal. She looks for the constellations he taught her earlier, attempting to find comfort in their guiding light as they dared the whelps of the Family to play some chase with them. "There's Tiamel," she says with a smile, fingers flexing in the base of his mane as she peers up at the bright pinpoint of light.
"I don't like it here," she murmurs to him as he threads his way with the steadiness of someone practiced, as surefooted as any of her most trusted mounts. It should not surprise her, he's capable in a number of ways, but she'd thought there'd be some adjustment period for him, some difficulty in this abnormal terrain. Some of the ground gives way underfoot, his weight loosening the already frail ground into the dried embers of its scorching. She leans with him, weight shifting with the slopes and the strides to keep out of his way as much as possible.
She glances up as the darkness has eked in further, the stars brighter against the backdrop of coal. She looks for the constellations he taught her earlier, attempting to find comfort in their guiding light as they dared the whelps of the Family to play some chase with them. "There's Tiamel," she says with a smile, fingers flexing in the base of his mane as she peers up at the bright pinpoint of light.
It's the ropes and the reins
And the joy and the pain
And they call the thing rodeo
And the joy and the pain
And they call the thing rodeo
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.
