Colt
She's a runner, she's a lover, always stuck in her ways
Pull her closer, think you know her, now she's turning the page
She gave a warning if it's storming, she'll be gone with the rain
Pull her closer, think you know her, now she's turning the page
She gave a warning if it's storming, she'll be gone with the rain
What she’d found detailed some weather patterns, the flora and fauna, and the terrain in some manner of detail. As for customs, safety corridors, local trade routes and general history, that she couldn’t find much note of. For instance, not that they’re in the boneyard yet, but what once roamed here that left behind such massive remains, and does anything like it still exist?
”Someone put down travel posts like in all the other areas,” she hums in consideration, wondering what that feat must have been like back in the day, organizing fast travel, even in the areas that seemed unworthy of visiting, or maybe they were meant as a quick getaway. ”Could maybe direct people more clearly towards them, since there’s still all the hell in-between. I have found some locals at them though, with pop-up tents, trying their best to make little pockets of rest and restock. A bit hit or miss at times, I’m sure because there needs to be better element protection.” Heat, sandstorms, lack of water. Especially this stretch, it’s the worst of desert, in her opinion. It’s certainly like picking a better awful, and at least this has no mind tricks or toxins, but the raw nothing and the unending heat, it still fucks with you by dumping buckets of despair down. It feels endless, and that’s almost worse.
Her horse marches diligently beneath her, the brittle ground giving way with a puff of dust to every footstep. ”I think this would be the last place to develop though. Too big, too needy with so little to start with.” As for his idea of storytelling, she nods. ”Wouldn’t surprise me if there’s a good deal of information we’ll learn from the locals.” Assuming they’d be willing to give it.
Her train of thought is interrupted by the announcement from Sol, her gaze lifting towards what looks like a star flashing too quickly through the sky. She tenses a bit at the idea of something, and carefully she reaches back for her bow and quiver. ”Not sure I like the sounds of that.” They’d not be the only things moving in the dark. The creatures that live here might be equipped for the heat, but no sense in roasting for no reason. ”If we don’t have to fight it, we shouldn’t,” she advises, despite her bow in hand now. They don’t have the energy to waste. She continues onward though, cautious and upright, horse directed to follow Sol with a steady stride. Not too fast, she might need the mount’s stamina to flee, but a purposeful gait to deliver them the knowledge of what to prepare for.
What starts to come into view as they remove distance is a small caravan of travelers. They’ve got camels for their mounts, sacks of goods and supplies piled up behind the seat. The sun-weathered people are in a flurry of movement, slapping and shouting and pulling. One camel is sprawled out, bellowing, and they’re trying to unhook its supplies before it crushes them, some already spilled out into the sand, lost as it soaks up the moisture of turned-over water and crushed fruits, the wind stealing the spices. The other camels, already well loaded down, stand or loaf in a mild patience for the scene.
”Someone put down travel posts like in all the other areas,” she hums in consideration, wondering what that feat must have been like back in the day, organizing fast travel, even in the areas that seemed unworthy of visiting, or maybe they were meant as a quick getaway. ”Could maybe direct people more clearly towards them, since there’s still all the hell in-between. I have found some locals at them though, with pop-up tents, trying their best to make little pockets of rest and restock. A bit hit or miss at times, I’m sure because there needs to be better element protection.” Heat, sandstorms, lack of water. Especially this stretch, it’s the worst of desert, in her opinion. It’s certainly like picking a better awful, and at least this has no mind tricks or toxins, but the raw nothing and the unending heat, it still fucks with you by dumping buckets of despair down. It feels endless, and that’s almost worse.
Her horse marches diligently beneath her, the brittle ground giving way with a puff of dust to every footstep. ”I think this would be the last place to develop though. Too big, too needy with so little to start with.” As for his idea of storytelling, she nods. ”Wouldn’t surprise me if there’s a good deal of information we’ll learn from the locals.” Assuming they’d be willing to give it.
Her train of thought is interrupted by the announcement from Sol, her gaze lifting towards what looks like a star flashing too quickly through the sky. She tenses a bit at the idea of something, and carefully she reaches back for her bow and quiver. ”Not sure I like the sounds of that.” They’d not be the only things moving in the dark. The creatures that live here might be equipped for the heat, but no sense in roasting for no reason. ”If we don’t have to fight it, we shouldn’t,” she advises, despite her bow in hand now. They don’t have the energy to waste. She continues onward though, cautious and upright, horse directed to follow Sol with a steady stride. Not too fast, she might need the mount’s stamina to flee, but a purposeful gait to deliver them the knowledge of what to prepare for.
What starts to come into view as they remove distance is a small caravan of travelers. They’ve got camels for their mounts, sacks of goods and supplies piled up behind the seat. The sun-weathered people are in a flurry of movement, slapping and shouting and pulling. One camel is sprawled out, bellowing, and they’re trying to unhook its supplies before it crushes them, some already spilled out into the sand, lost as it soaks up the moisture of turned-over water and crushed fruits, the wind stealing the spices. The other camels, already well loaded down, stand or loaf in a mild patience for the scene.
When she's in it, she's all in it, ain't no holding her back
When I'm with her, she's a river moving steady and fast
She's afraid of all the ways her heart is broke like glass
When I'm with her, she's a river moving steady and fast
She's afraid of all the ways her heart is broke like glass
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.
