// You could be lonely, or heartbroken—Or hungover from the night before //
Well, with so many wonderful men to handle the mess, Colt is fine just jumping up some railings and hanging on while the brute storms past. In the corner some outriders have already come to their rescue, not that they need it now that Vesper and Hawthorn have put on quite a pretty show to lure the bull toward them. Like a hungry fish in a lake, the simple creature is drawn to the flashing movement of the whipping shadows and the shimmer of illusion. He flings his head, an arc of spit trailing over him, as he trots towards the distractions with an almost playful intent. At least, he might have merrily gone after them and been shut away behind the new gate until Zenith's tiger appeared behind him, adding more than some pep back to his step.
The bull changes gears, interest flipping to a mild panic as he bellows a warning to his ladies he knows are still out there beyond the hills of pipe corral. His pace becomes urgent in the need to escape the predator, whites of his eyes flashing as he throws his head and runs without care into the new chute, his mass thrown wildly against the fenceline in his eagerness. The metal bows and mangles beneath him, connections snapping further down as the whole line of fence shifts and sags against the ruinous bull. Men whistle the beast one, yelling down the line for gates to open fast, and the beast eventually settles when it's back with its own kind and the tiger is out of sight.
"WHAT THE FUCK TOMMY!?" Colt hollers towards the first gate that had flung open unexpectedly and let the bull come barreling into the unsuspecting arena. The glare she cuts across the dirt to the men working in the back who yell back some crumpled apologies promises to get to the bottom of who exactly she'd be putting on her shitlist later. Mistakes happen, it's part of the job, but this mistake happened because someone didn't close several gates, or because someone put pressure on at the wrong time, likely in a rush to be done for the night. Congrats to them, they just made more work.
Slipping back to ground level, Colt sighs and glances back towards her gathered help. "Vesper, Hawthorn, can you swap out those busted panels with fresh ones and reset the line? There's spares behind the judging booth." Turning her attention to Zenith, she jerks her chin at him. "Zenith, come with me, we gotta get the proper head gear on the roping steers."
Assuming he'd follow her, she walks to the opposite end of the arena the bull had just done, where a smaller chute and funnel of cattle lay. The steers are younger, come up to about rib-height on her at the shoulder, and their horns curve long and thick from their heads. They are in a line, pressed tight with just enough room to stand and some to turn if they have enough mind to do so. Colt grabs the railing and pops over it, settling on the other side near the first steer. She tucks an arm over the back of its head, palming its chin and lifting it up a bit as she leans her weight into it, legs spread for balance. "Helmets are there, I'll grab, you slip 'em on. They fasten easy, keeps 'em from getting rope burn around the base," she instructs coolly. They'll do this again and again for several head.
A beat later, casual and calm, aside from the grunt of effort as the steer flings its head. "So you and Vesper are brothers? How's that going—seems real warm between you two." Same mom she'd guess after seeing Zen's star writing. Funny that Ves hadn't mentioned Zen in their time together, when family had come up a time or two.
Good job the bull was attracted to your distractions and ran off into the correct area, but got scared by the tiger and bent some fence panels beyond repair on his way out.
Round 2: Vesper & Thorn have been tasked with swapping those panels out with new ones.
Zenith and Colt are putting protective gear on the roping steers.
The bull changes gears, interest flipping to a mild panic as he bellows a warning to his ladies he knows are still out there beyond the hills of pipe corral. His pace becomes urgent in the need to escape the predator, whites of his eyes flashing as he throws his head and runs without care into the new chute, his mass thrown wildly against the fenceline in his eagerness. The metal bows and mangles beneath him, connections snapping further down as the whole line of fence shifts and sags against the ruinous bull. Men whistle the beast one, yelling down the line for gates to open fast, and the beast eventually settles when it's back with its own kind and the tiger is out of sight.
"WHAT THE FUCK TOMMY!?" Colt hollers towards the first gate that had flung open unexpectedly and let the bull come barreling into the unsuspecting arena. The glare she cuts across the dirt to the men working in the back who yell back some crumpled apologies promises to get to the bottom of who exactly she'd be putting on her shitlist later. Mistakes happen, it's part of the job, but this mistake happened because someone didn't close several gates, or because someone put pressure on at the wrong time, likely in a rush to be done for the night. Congrats to them, they just made more work.
Slipping back to ground level, Colt sighs and glances back towards her gathered help. "Vesper, Hawthorn, can you swap out those busted panels with fresh ones and reset the line? There's spares behind the judging booth." Turning her attention to Zenith, she jerks her chin at him. "
Assuming he'd follow her, she walks to the opposite end of the arena the bull had just done, where a smaller chute and funnel of cattle lay. The steers are younger, come up to about rib-height on her at the shoulder, and their horns curve long and thick from their heads. They are in a line, pressed tight with just enough room to stand and some to turn if they have enough mind to do so. Colt grabs the railing and pops over it, settling on the other side near the first steer. She tucks an arm over the back of its head, palming its chin and lifting it up a bit as she leans her weight into it, legs spread for balance. "Helmets are there, I'll grab, you slip 'em on. They fasten easy, keeps 'em from getting rope burn around the base," she instructs coolly. They'll do this again and again for several head.
A beat later, casual and calm, aside from the grunt of effort as the steer flings its head. "So you and Vesper are brothers? How's that going—seems real warm between you two." Same mom she'd guess after seeing Zen's star writing. Funny that Ves hadn't mentioned Zen in their time together, when family had come up a time or two.
Good job the bull was attracted to your distractions and ran off into the correct area, but got scared by the tiger and bent some fence panels beyond repair on his way out.
Round 2: Vesper & Thorn have been tasked with swapping those panels out with new ones.
Zenith and Colt are putting protective gear on the roping steers.
COLT
// Turn that frown into a smile real quick—There ain't nothin' that a beer can't fix //
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.
