COLT
I had a vision last night
Horses on the granite plains
That sound of freedom stampeding
Why can't I feel the same?
Horses on the granite plains
That sound of freedom stampeding
Why can't I feel the same?
You don't normally rope anything but horses and livestock. It's also normally sent around their throats, the pressure of struggle tightening the loop and cutting off enough air to make continued defiance less ideal for the animal. That, or it winds up over a horn or two, giving you leverage over the head. These are prey animals, and their instinct is to run, and at a certain point they're also liable to give up to the idea of being caught and eaten by the lariat and so they just surrender. Sure, a bull or buffalo might make a desperate run, goring in defense and terror more than intent, but all the other factors are still there, so you just dodge that a little bit and you're golden. You're not supposed to rope a fucking predator.
Colt will reflect on this later, when she's got the time to analyze how badly everything goes to hell and then just keeps sliding through the circles there to reach the core. It starts with the fact her mare isn't broke to stay calm under the pressure of being hunted. Next, it's that Colt leashed the hunter to them, which distracts the beast enough that it's arguing with the tie against its mouth instead of continuing to try to eat them, and that's perhaps the only silver lining in this whole shit show.
The mudtiger snakes its head back and forth in a wild display of strength and fury that keeps snapping the line firm, a fish too big for the reel. Its claws scrabble at it, and awful sounds ripple free, each one making her mare shudder. They maybe could have gotten a handle on things, maybe, except then another fucking monster comes crashing through the brush and slams into the side of the mudtiger.
Biscuit's mind goes right then and there. Colt's is certainly starting to as well, panic setting in like cold water hitting the bottom of a pant leg and crawling up to consume everything with the chill. Her mare twists, a bad angle that sets the cord across her neck and around the other side of the front of the saddle right as the force of the molten tiger colliding with the muddy one snaps the tether so taut that something has to give. Might have been the rope if her merchant had been more dishonest. Instead, it's her horse's balance, because the other part about roping is the horse is only strong in certain directions, and sideways isn't one of them.
Without the forward motion that usually comes with a horse falling, Colt's body isn't shoved clear of the toppling animal, not enough anyway. Her one leg is pinned under Biscuit's side as the mare is yanked over onto the ground. Colt's yell is guttural with fear as much as pain as the weight slams into her—this is a bad fucking position to be in. Biscuit flails, trying and struggling to rise, unable to get clean purchase with the damn rope dragging her across the floor every so often as the mudtiger whirls and snarls at Thalassa, teeth flashing beneath tied down lips. It causes Colt's leg to be repeatedly ground against, and that's what sends her screaming.
There's one meager thread of sane thought still in her head as other senses threaten to overwhelm her instead. She reaches for her free boot, to the knife she keeps tucked inside there, intending to cut this damn rope free and maybe get this horse off her then. That doesn't change the fact she's got two cats to handle once they're up though, and she's positive Biscuit will bolt and leave her empty-handed the moment they rise. She channels as she fights for breath, because damn if she's ever needed help, this is it. In this moment of desperation, she calls on one of the few people she trusts, and there's only one who comes to mind when she needs to feel something other than afraid right now. Vesper, fucking kill them!
Colt will reflect on this later, when she's got the time to analyze how badly everything goes to hell and then just keeps sliding through the circles there to reach the core. It starts with the fact her mare isn't broke to stay calm under the pressure of being hunted. Next, it's that Colt leashed the hunter to them, which distracts the beast enough that it's arguing with the tie against its mouth instead of continuing to try to eat them, and that's perhaps the only silver lining in this whole shit show.
The mudtiger snakes its head back and forth in a wild display of strength and fury that keeps snapping the line firm, a fish too big for the reel. Its claws scrabble at it, and awful sounds ripple free, each one making her mare shudder. They maybe could have gotten a handle on things, maybe, except then another fucking monster comes crashing through the brush and slams into the side of the mudtiger.
Biscuit's mind goes right then and there. Colt's is certainly starting to as well, panic setting in like cold water hitting the bottom of a pant leg and crawling up to consume everything with the chill. Her mare twists, a bad angle that sets the cord across her neck and around the other side of the front of the saddle right as the force of the molten tiger colliding with the muddy one snaps the tether so taut that something has to give. Might have been the rope if her merchant had been more dishonest. Instead, it's her horse's balance, because the other part about roping is the horse is only strong in certain directions, and sideways isn't one of them.
Without the forward motion that usually comes with a horse falling, Colt's body isn't shoved clear of the toppling animal, not enough anyway. Her one leg is pinned under Biscuit's side as the mare is yanked over onto the ground. Colt's yell is guttural with fear as much as pain as the weight slams into her—this is a bad fucking position to be in. Biscuit flails, trying and struggling to rise, unable to get clean purchase with the damn rope dragging her across the floor every so often as the mudtiger whirls and snarls at Thalassa, teeth flashing beneath tied down lips. It causes Colt's leg to be repeatedly ground against, and that's what sends her screaming.
There's one meager thread of sane thought still in her head as other senses threaten to overwhelm her instead. She reaches for her free boot, to the knife she keeps tucked inside there, intending to cut this damn rope free and maybe get this horse off her then. That doesn't change the fact she's got two cats to handle once they're up though, and she's positive Biscuit will bolt and leave her empty-handed the moment they rise. She channels as she fights for breath, because damn if she's ever needed help, this is it. In this moment of desperation, she calls on one of the few people she trusts, and there's only one who comes to mind when she needs to feel something other than afraid right now. Vesper, fucking kill them!
I've been sipping on a poison
Even on the days I taste it
Run into the same wall
All because I just can't face it
Even on the days I taste it
Run into the same wall
All because I just can't face it
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.
