There's something to building—watching disorganized piles of cut wood turn into beams and rails, patterned into functioning fences and gates beneath the encouragement of hammers and nails. It's a testament to the creativity of man, who isn't content just to live in the world, but means to shape it, playing a bit at being divine. Where some see trees, there's instead the ingredients for a house, or in this case, a fence.
Damien and Maea's efforts, along with everyone else, succeed in creating sturdy posts packed into the ground. Beams and rails are born out of the lumber, and steadily the entrance of her ranch gleams with fresh pine and effort, sturdy as ever. As they work she twines barbed wire around the rungs, only punctured when an object between her legs catches her and feeds a stumble. It's a clatter of steps and swears as Colt shakes a thumb where the metal had snarled at her skin, a glare cast down at the offense. She'd expected a carelessly laid crossbeam or even a cleverly hidden shovel, she had not expected a goddamn cub.
"DAMIEN!" she shouts as her ire rises to find him among the crowd. "Your cat's fixin' for a broken leg running free among work like this. The hell you thinking?" Colt might make a living out of animals, and her heart is softer for it than she lets on, but every animal she's got works, same as her. No one eats for free around here, and when they're too young to be good they stay on a leash or out of the fucking way.
Muttering under her breath, she resumes the work, until the fence is done. "Onto the feed shed!" she announces to the gang, shovels collected by one man, hammers remaining in the hands that have them. It's a bit of a march down the road, but the burnt ground and started framing await them, panels of wood stacked nearby. Like reverse locusts, they descend, hammers and nails ready to chew the lumber into something useful.
Round 3: start to assemble the feed shed walls
"DAMIEN!" she shouts as her ire rises to find him among the crowd. "Your cat's fixin' for a broken leg running free among work like this. The hell you thinking?" Colt might make a living out of animals, and her heart is softer for it than she lets on, but every animal she's got works, same as her. No one eats for free around here, and when they're too young to be good they stay on a leash or out of the fucking way.
Muttering under her breath, she resumes the work, until the fence is done. "Onto the feed shed!" she announces to the gang, shovels collected by one man, hammers remaining in the hands that have them. It's a bit of a march down the road, but the burnt ground and started framing await them, panels of wood stacked nearby. Like reverse locusts, they descend, hammers and nails ready to chew the lumber into something useful.
Round 3: start to assemble the feed shed walls
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.
