COLT
The plod of Biscuit’s pace through the sand is an unhurried one, and Colt does not ask her for more. Not, if what the note said means to be true, and there’d be far more riding yet to go. The trip here had not been long, thus far, currently camping out in the Boneyard vicinity, but the coordinates of the meeting point do demand a venture away from the clusters of tents and goods, and with the promise of a long day, she’s come on the heels of dawn to afford what she deems an appropriate length left for the sun.
Glancing between two papers in her hand as the mare moves beneath her, Colt peeks over the edge to the large skeleton looming rather promisingly nearby. Up and up her sightline goes, mouth dropping faintly open as the impressive scale demands some amount of reverence. She’s glad it’s dead and not alive, that’s for certain. Keeping note of this feature of the Boneyard in ways that’ll serve her beyond today, beyond admiration, she glances back down to the paper. ”This should be it,” she tells the mare, and as if listening, Biscuit comes to a standstill.
She folds the note and the map she’d been using, a rather recently detailed one from Sohalia, and tucks them away in her pack. The same bundle with all the food and water requested, and the tack, well she’s already using that. Languid in her saddle as she glances around, she calls out, ”alright Zavien, what’s with all the cloak and dagger?” Smoother than the last time the note had said, and given the encounter she and the Risen Sun had last time they went out together, she feels confident she’s sussed out the author. The why still escapes her.
Glancing between two papers in her hand as the mare moves beneath her, Colt peeks over the edge to the large skeleton looming rather promisingly nearby. Up and up her sightline goes, mouth dropping faintly open as the impressive scale demands some amount of reverence. She’s glad it’s dead and not alive, that’s for certain. Keeping note of this feature of the Boneyard in ways that’ll serve her beyond today, beyond admiration, she glances back down to the paper. ”This should be it,” she tells the mare, and as if listening, Biscuit comes to a standstill.
She folds the note and the map she’d been using, a rather recently detailed one from Sohalia, and tucks them away in her pack. The same bundle with all the food and water requested, and the tack, well she’s already using that. Languid in her saddle as she glances around, she calls out, ”alright Zavien, what’s with all the cloak and dagger?” Smoother than the last time the note had said, and given the encounter she and the Risen Sun had last time they went out together, she feels confident she’s sussed out the author. The why still escapes her.
Wild horse out the gate
Yeah your heart about to break
She the type of woman that gon' make you lose control
She something wild, you might need a lasso
Yeah your heart about to break
She the type of woman that gon' make you lose control
She something wild, you might need a lasso
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.
