Flora
Flora snickers outright at that, shoulders lifting in a helpless little shrug as she wipes her hands on her shorts. "It would probably take an act of divine intervention to get Jack onto a bull," she says lightly, eyes rolling with equal parts amusement and gratitude for the sentiment. "And even then, he'd probably find some way of threatening it into obedience." There’s no bite to it, just a clean, amused dismissal, before her attention flicks back to Colt's not-so-subtle hint of something planned. Her mouth twists. "Right," she says, already wincing. "That doesn’t sound sus at all," but there’s a spark of interest there too, because of course there is.
She gives the finished vendor alley one last satisfied look, pleased with how clean and intentional it all feels, before following the call back to the arena. The words practice hobby horse course land a second later, this is presumably what Colt meant about the right ride, and Flora lifts a brow, glancing sideways at Spice. "Do you know what horse strides are?" she whispers doubtfully, earning only a cool, inscrutable stare in return. "Thought so."
Undeterred, Flora drags a pair of standards and a rail across the dirt, boots scuffing as she sets them down with confident ignorance. She steps back, eyes the distance, and then spaces the next set far too generously, clearly overestimating what constitutes a reasonable stride. She tilts her head, considering it with a thoughtful hum.
Flora starts setting, but her distances are hella long.
She gives the finished vendor alley one last satisfied look, pleased with how clean and intentional it all feels, before following the call back to the arena. The words practice hobby horse course land a second later, this is presumably what Colt meant about the right ride, and Flora lifts a brow, glancing sideways at Spice. "Do you know what horse strides are?" she whispers doubtfully, earning only a cool, inscrutable stare in return. "Thought so."
Undeterred, Flora drags a pair of standards and a rail across the dirt, boots scuffing as she sets them down with confident ignorance. She steps back, eyes the distance, and then spaces the next set far too generously, clearly overestimating what constitutes a reasonable stride. She tilts her head, considering it with a thoughtful hum.
Flora starts setting, but her distances are hella long.
passion is a passing thing, it's accidental chemistry
caught up in a feelin', it can be deceivin'.
this is like breaking for me
caught up in a feelin', it can be deceivin'.
this is like breaking for me
Code stolen from Queen Sky
