Colt
She is grateful when the rocky terrain finally breaks back to the usual, because all the back and forth is more exhausting than she'd like to admit. She keeps the complaint quiet though, because Lena is equally committed to her burrowing, and she doesn't want their pace to slacken. She just maybe needs to start running in the mornings or something, shit. She's in pretty good shape, she thought, but apparently those are different muscles. Her day to day is more strength related and relies on shorter bursts of speed to cut off unruly livestock, whereas this steady up and down to plant and the cardio from jogging is showing her just where all her weaknesses lie.
Then, it starts pouring. This fucking sucks.
She scowls up at the sky like they're the ones in an argument now, and even goes so far as to fling one of the roses angrily up at the breaking storm. It sails unimpressively, too light to fully communicate her fuck you, and flips rather sadly back into the wet ground. "You couldn't wait a bit longer? Motherfucker," she says with utter exasperation, shaking her head and running a dirty hand through the ends of the soaked gold. So much for all her plans.
She sets her hands on her hips and paces angrily back and forth for a moment, boots stomping through mud, clothes getting thoroughly drenched, each droplet building on her irritation. "We probably don't have to dig now," she sighs at Lena, her hand slapping her wet jeans with an audible smack. "Just poke the stems in the wet ground and move on. That's what I'm gonna do anyway," she mutters, crouching down to begin just that. All the while, a stream of curses floats just under her breath.
Colt mad. Colt poke flowers into dirt.
Then, it starts pouring. This fucking sucks.
She scowls up at the sky like they're the ones in an argument now, and even goes so far as to fling one of the roses angrily up at the breaking storm. It sails unimpressively, too light to fully communicate her fuck you, and flips rather sadly back into the wet ground. "You couldn't wait a bit longer? Motherfucker," she says with utter exasperation, shaking her head and running a dirty hand through the ends of the soaked gold. So much for all her plans.
She sets her hands on her hips and paces angrily back and forth for a moment, boots stomping through mud, clothes getting thoroughly drenched, each droplet building on her irritation. "We probably don't have to dig now," she sighs at Lena, her hand slapping her wet jeans with an audible smack. "Just poke the stems in the wet ground and move on. That's what I'm gonna do anyway," she mutters, crouching down to begin just that. All the while, a stream of curses floats just under her breath.
Colt mad. Colt poke flowers into dirt.
I ain't gonna be that easy to leave
I'm gonna make you miss me
I'm gonna make you miss me
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.
