Colt
It's boots and chaps
It's cowboy hats
It's spurs and latigo
It's cowboy hats
It's spurs and latigo
His answer is not clear. His own form of coiling agitation, she feels that—it's in the taut bow of his neck, the expressive exhale, the slant of ears. A flinging head, a stomping leg. He's done, it seems. Has perhaps decided to hell with it and would like her to kindly (or even unkindly) fuck off. Her lips press together, trying to squash the rising dismay. She can't blame him though. They'd been walking the line, looks like they finally tumbled over it.
Except he calls out again, his entire body shaking under her with the force of it. He's still moving, taut, but in motion all the same. There's something else, too. A new beat to his blood, a feeling that presses under her splayed hands like something ticking towards ruin. She might have been left to wonder it, or gotten lost in it herself, the poison pollen speckling the air around them both and her sideways hit about to strike, except there's a beautiful pool shimmering just over there.
Something rises in her, bright and lively. "Hey! Look!" Her fingers tap the midnight manifest, urgent, desperate. "There's a pool!" A bid to slip into it, to rest, to relieve some of this itch and drag of the desert from them. Except, the image is a bit jarring amid the jungle, the trees don't quite match, and fuck, everything is starting to feel so damn heavy and blurry.
That's not a pool, she realizes with a gasp. It's molten, a bubble of lava yawning up from the core of the earth with a decimating invitation. "No," she says harshly, the sound grating past her teeth with all the force left inside of her. "No, that's gonna burn us alive. We have to run." For the first time since this trip she drives her heel into his side, and it feels like she's stepped in liquid ink when she does it, like she might just melt into him and be consumed by him instead. "RUN!" she demands, whisper-shouting as she grabs a breath before his night chokes her.
[FIN]
Except he calls out again, his entire body shaking under her with the force of it. He's still moving, taut, but in motion all the same. There's something else, too. A new beat to his blood, a feeling that presses under her splayed hands like something ticking towards ruin. She might have been left to wonder it, or gotten lost in it herself, the poison pollen speckling the air around them both and her sideways hit about to strike, except there's a beautiful pool shimmering just over there.
Something rises in her, bright and lively. "Hey! Look!" Her fingers tap the midnight manifest, urgent, desperate. "There's a pool!" A bid to slip into it, to rest, to relieve some of this itch and drag of the desert from them. Except, the image is a bit jarring amid the jungle, the trees don't quite match, and fuck, everything is starting to feel so damn heavy and blurry.
That's not a pool, she realizes with a gasp. It's molten, a bubble of lava yawning up from the core of the earth with a decimating invitation. "No," she says harshly, the sound grating past her teeth with all the force left inside of her. "No, that's gonna burn us alive. We have to run." For the first time since this trip she drives her heel into his side, and it feels like she's stepped in liquid ink when she does it, like she might just melt into him and be consumed by him instead. "RUN!" she demands, whisper-shouting as she grabs a breath before his night chokes her.
[FIN]
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.
