Colt isn't in the habit of asking for help, but sometimes the workload is too big to manage, a lesson she seems to never quite keep with her long enough to avoid the frustration of still trying to. She's always nervous when she does ask, because who among them doesn't have a host of their own problems that'd readily take up her own too, coin or food or virtue never seeming payment enough to her to shoulder more burdens. 'Course, she'll offer her own strength when it's needed, even when it's not, like she can't quite see weakness in anyone else but her.
"Maea," she greets, hoping she got the pale rider's name right. The smile she offers is warm, but light, their familiarity thin, but she's no less grateful for it. "Appreciate you coming." The stranger that rolls up though, earns a welcoming nod and a slide of her gaze to the creature nestled against his chest. She's got animals a plenty here, but she can't quite keep the scrutiny from her mind that he'll be babysitting the kitten instead of swinging a hammer—perhaps he'd prove her wrong. "Howdy, Damien. I'm Colt, owner of this ranch." Just in case the request for help hadn't been clear or he thought he was talking to the wife of whatever cowboy was running late to greet them, a common enough assumption for a man.
A few other folks strolled in from the town, returning favors they owed her or just trying to help out a neighbor. The brownies and drinks soon whittled down, and chatter lifted like crickets in the evening, louder than it should be. "Alright!" she calls them all to attention, hooking a thumb in her pocket and pointing with the other to the problems at hand. "We'll start with the entry gate and sign, then move on to the feed shed. Grab a shovel and start setting holes for the posts."
She'd marked the spots to dig with small, bright flags stuck in the ground. She nods towards some gloves and shovels, ones that are specialized for digging posts, needing the ground to stay firm enough to hold the wood that gets fitted in. They're near the stacked rails and posts ready to be assembled once the ground is opened up properly. The townsfolk spread, each gathering up a tool, and Colt mixed among them, leaning her hand into the work as much as her eye and voice.
Round 1: dig holes for the new entry gate and fence line.
"Maea," she greets, hoping she got the pale rider's name right. The smile she offers is warm, but light, their familiarity thin, but she's no less grateful for it. "Appreciate you coming." The stranger that rolls up though, earns a welcoming nod and a slide of her gaze to the creature nestled against his chest. She's got animals a plenty here, but she can't quite keep the scrutiny from her mind that he'll be babysitting the kitten instead of swinging a hammer—perhaps he'd prove her wrong. "Howdy, Damien. I'm Colt, owner of this ranch." Just in case the request for help hadn't been clear or he thought he was talking to the wife of whatever cowboy was running late to greet them, a common enough assumption for a man.
A few other folks strolled in from the town, returning favors they owed her or just trying to help out a neighbor. The brownies and drinks soon whittled down, and chatter lifted like crickets in the evening, louder than it should be. "Alright!" she calls them all to attention, hooking a thumb in her pocket and pointing with the other to the problems at hand. "We'll start with the entry gate and sign, then move on to the feed shed. Grab a shovel and start setting holes for the posts."
She'd marked the spots to dig with small, bright flags stuck in the ground. She nods towards some gloves and shovels, ones that are specialized for digging posts, needing the ground to stay firm enough to hold the wood that gets fitted in. They're near the stacked rails and posts ready to be assembled once the ground is opened up properly. The townsfolk spread, each gathering up a tool, and Colt mixed among them, leaning her hand into the work as much as her eye and voice.
Round 1: dig holes for the new entry gate and fence line.
Colt
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.
