COLT
Not sure where to go from here
I'm stuck in the middle of freedom and fear
Driving fast with no headlights
Praying everything's gonna be alright
I'm stuck in the middle of freedom and fear
Driving fast with no headlights
Praying everything's gonna be alright
She is certainly no beastmaster. Her talents extend to a few species, and she’s not foolish enough to expect all the fundamentals and knowledge transfer over neatly. Even the pegasus, arguably the closest possibility for her skills to test out on something new, she knows there’s plenty that she doesn’t know about them. Nevermind flying, their mannerisms alone will have differences, their behaviors altered by the things that make them uniquely different from other creatures. It’s part of why she prefers horses over unicorns, even for all the benefits the horned horses supply. They look the same, one has a horn, one doesn’t—it’s so much deeper than that though.
Still, she trusts in Frey. So a confident smirk eeks out in response to the wild-eyed stare he casts out at her like a net trying to catch crazy. ”Not my arrows,” she asserts, but his words plant the faintest flicker of fresh doubt about the difficulty of this. ”Everything has soft parts.” Which is uncomfortably close to a comment about herself and she doesn’t like it one bit.
As for his sharp assessment about doing it alone, that she has no assurances to back up. After all, Frey did not say go do this alone, so she falters further, her plan growing more muddy instead of clear with all this information. ”Even in a tall tree? High up, out of reach?” She tries to explain, as if he only needs to share her vision to get it. The fight’s leaving her though, and she certainly didn’t come to chase an argument. Hell, the only horse she has in this race is completing it and surviving doing so. That’s why she opts not to remark that she could summon someone to help, be it damage or blood control. She would prefer it not come to channeling someone—she’s had enough proof of how quickly that little hat trick could sour.
Still chewing over all he offered her, it’s rolling over in the back of her mind by the time they reach the shed and she gets the meds. He doesn’t offer up more explanation on the scars, and she doesn’t ask, certain she’s made him say more words than usual in a short amount of time already. Instead, her gaze lifts from the untold markings back to the hard set of his features, brows lifting with the request she makes. ”Come with me.” Her teeth release the corner of her lip where her thoughts and worries always seem to gather. ”Please,” she tacks on. ”On the hunt. I don’t hunt much, I ranch, and I usually do my best to stay out of the swamp, so I could really use someone as knowledgeable as you.”
Still, she trusts in Frey. So a confident smirk eeks out in response to the wild-eyed stare he casts out at her like a net trying to catch crazy. ”Not my arrows,” she asserts, but his words plant the faintest flicker of fresh doubt about the difficulty of this. ”Everything has soft parts.” Which is uncomfortably close to a comment about herself and she doesn’t like it one bit.
As for his sharp assessment about doing it alone, that she has no assurances to back up. After all, Frey did not say go do this alone, so she falters further, her plan growing more muddy instead of clear with all this information. ”Even in a tall tree? High up, out of reach?” She tries to explain, as if he only needs to share her vision to get it. The fight’s leaving her though, and she certainly didn’t come to chase an argument. Hell, the only horse she has in this race is completing it and surviving doing so. That’s why she opts not to remark that she could summon someone to help, be it damage or blood control. She would prefer it not come to channeling someone—she’s had enough proof of how quickly that little hat trick could sour.
Still chewing over all he offered her, it’s rolling over in the back of her mind by the time they reach the shed and she gets the meds. He doesn’t offer up more explanation on the scars, and she doesn’t ask, certain she’s made him say more words than usual in a short amount of time already. Instead, her gaze lifts from the untold markings back to the hard set of his features, brows lifting with the request she makes. ”Come with me.” Her teeth release the corner of her lip where her thoughts and worries always seem to gather. ”Please,” she tacks on. ”On the hunt. I don’t hunt much, I ranch, and I usually do my best to stay out of the swamp, so I could really use someone as knowledgeable as you.”
These conversations with my head and my heart
Never really ever get me too far
Never really ever get me too far
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.
