Each squelch of the monstrous mud flattening out beneath her shovel is something that manages to soothe and stoke in equal measure. On the one hand, watching it pancake into a mud pie beneath the weight of her aggression is fulfilling. On the other hand, watching it squirm back into shape and wriggle away is deeply and terribly frustrating. Oh, pieces of it get carved away into harmless muck, but not enough clearly, as it continues to undulate across her designated sector, a blight against every attempt made to clean this vicinity and be done with the dirty work.
As resilient as the thoughts of a twilight demi-god, the memory mud persists like a giant middle finger to her efforts. "Fuck. You." Her murderous rampage tucks behind the grit of her teeth as her temper catches a second wind. With a grunt of effort she flips the shovel handle in her hands and swings the brunt of its head against the mud. Her whole body shifts with the follow through, toe twisting, hips pivoting, arms locked in an embrace of contact. She means to send the vile blob sailing in a version of a home run.
Colt plays baseball with the memory mud
As resilient as the thoughts of a twilight demi-god, the memory mud persists like a giant middle finger to her efforts. "Fuck. You." Her murderous rampage tucks behind the grit of her teeth as her temper catches a second wind. With a grunt of effort she flips the shovel handle in her hands and swings the brunt of its head against the mud. Her whole body shifts with the follow through, toe twisting, hips pivoting, arms locked in an embrace of contact. She means to send the vile blob sailing in a version of a home run.
Colt plays baseball with the memory mud
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.
