COLT
Usually a drink will do the trick
Take the edge off quick
A long gone drive, you know the kind
Where you take a turn and you don't know why
But it clears your mind, a surefire cure
Take the edge off quick
A long gone drive, you know the kind
Where you take a turn and you don't know why
But it clears your mind, a surefire cure
Her head lifts and turns towards him, features scrunched with a sliver of outrage, as if what he'd just said is the most damning thing possible. "Only if they earned it," she scoffs. "Everyone deserves it if they earned it," she sniffs, "that's why all you got was an apple, though I'm regretting that now." Last nice thing she'd offer him, she'll just eat all the damn apples herself next time he's weary and worn if he's going to accuse her of being too kind.
Generally the praise she hands out is the removal of pressure, the absence of a swift smack or the correction of a spur, carrots occasionally because they're cute. A pat, the hose, and a beer on a hot day is about as nice as she'll get. For the men, maybe a thank you and a smile thrown in if she's feeling extra considerate, otherwise a round of drinks at the House of Midnight and frequent cookouts to retell the same stories over and over and laugh just as hard is usually good enough. Everyone works to earn their keep, but there's no point in suffering needlessly through it. Work hard, play hard, simple as that.
"What? We've barely rested," she starts to protest, about to say she's still tired, but the damn nuisance of a man is back to a horse before she's even finished sitting up all the way. She clicks her tongue with half-hearted annoyance, shooting him a cutting look. He's still darkened with sweat, but given the heat of this place it's hard to tell if it's old or new. Besides, he isn't wrong, this place is not ideal for resting, she'd known that from the start but figured he needed it. Still did, but he seems to figure otherwise and she won't argue with him about that.
He crowds her with his size then, nosing her hat to really drive home what a pain in the ass he is. "You," she threatens as one hand grabs to keep it on while the other slaps the bandana towards his nose. She doesn't finish the sentiment though, just shakes her head as she rises and grabs the pack. She gets on the rock and slides back on his back with a smile despite herself, fingers threading back through his mane. It's stickier this time, the sensation of her wet and hairy jeans hugging back against her warm skin setting her teeth on edge, but she adjusts a bit and finds her seat again. "Alright pony boy, let's ride."
[FIN]
Generally the praise she hands out is the removal of pressure, the absence of a swift smack or the correction of a spur, carrots occasionally because they're cute. A pat, the hose, and a beer on a hot day is about as nice as she'll get. For the men, maybe a thank you and a smile thrown in if she's feeling extra considerate, otherwise a round of drinks at the House of Midnight and frequent cookouts to retell the same stories over and over and laugh just as hard is usually good enough. Everyone works to earn their keep, but there's no point in suffering needlessly through it. Work hard, play hard, simple as that.
"What? We've barely rested," she starts to protest, about to say she's still tired, but the damn nuisance of a man is back to a horse before she's even finished sitting up all the way. She clicks her tongue with half-hearted annoyance, shooting him a cutting look. He's still darkened with sweat, but given the heat of this place it's hard to tell if it's old or new. Besides, he isn't wrong, this place is not ideal for resting, she'd known that from the start but figured he needed it. Still did, but he seems to figure otherwise and she won't argue with him about that.
He crowds her with his size then, nosing her hat to really drive home what a pain in the ass he is. "You," she threatens as one hand grabs to keep it on while the other slaps the bandana towards his nose. She doesn't finish the sentiment though, just shakes her head as she rises and grabs the pack. She gets on the rock and slides back on his back with a smile despite herself, fingers threading back through his mane. It's stickier this time, the sensation of her wet and hairy jeans hugging back against her warm skin setting her teeth on edge, but she adjusts a bit and finds her seat again. "Alright pony boy, let's ride."
[FIN]
I need somethin' stronger
That'll last a little longer
I could use a love song
That'll last a little longer
I could use a love song
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.
