Colt
It's boots and chaps
It's cowboy hats
It's spurs and latigo
It's cowboy hats
It's spurs and latigo
"C'mon cocksuckers!"
She calls boldly into the jungle, all the edges of her curling with a raw edge of frustration too tender to ignore any longer. Quiet and determination had gotten them from one tip of the desert and back, but if this place is so infected, she doesn't see it. One cluster of spiders, in all the hours of travel?
Though she never wants to be seen as weak, perhaps least of all by him, every bit of her has stretched until there's no give left—so it tears instead. Her patience, her grace, even her voice, dry and tight with the heat cracks as she bites out once more, "show yourselves!" She listens, straining for the telltale signs of a scuttle or scurry that might be the clue that the taunt has worked and they need to skedaddle.
"Fucking Frey," she hisses as she drops back to his neck so they can pass under a sagging bough. "Isn't it lucky that we've avoided the monsters this long? Doesn't that count?" but she already knows the answer. It's a test, and there's no score to give if she never faces the sheet to jot her answers on. She'd gladly do so if the paper would show up.
She huffs into him, fraying a bit more with every cursed step.
She calls boldly into the jungle, all the edges of her curling with a raw edge of frustration too tender to ignore any longer. Quiet and determination had gotten them from one tip of the desert and back, but if this place is so infected, she doesn't see it. One cluster of spiders, in all the hours of travel?
Though she never wants to be seen as weak, perhaps least of all by him, every bit of her has stretched until there's no give left—so it tears instead. Her patience, her grace, even her voice, dry and tight with the heat cracks as she bites out once more, "show yourselves!" She listens, straining for the telltale signs of a scuttle or scurry that might be the clue that the taunt has worked and they need to skedaddle.
"Fucking Frey," she hisses as she drops back to his neck so they can pass under a sagging bough. "Isn't it lucky that we've avoided the monsters this long? Doesn't that count?" but she already knows the answer. It's a test, and there's no score to give if she never faces the sheet to jot her answers on. She'd gladly do so if the paper would show up.
She huffs into him, fraying a bit more with every cursed step.
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.
