Don't you draw the queen of diamonds, boy
The hallowed silence is broken suddenly by the sound of hoofbeats, the laboured breathing of a large animal, a shout of "Gods damnit!", and finally the thhwwwpt! of a lasso being thrown.
Should the Remedy look up, she'll see a rather gangly unicorn colt dramatically flailing about, stomping on offerings and graves alike. Ears pinned and nostrils flared, it's all piss and youthful vinegar that has nowhere to go now thanks to the lasso around its neck. Following the line of the rope back, Isla will see a buckskin unicorn mare with a comfortable saddle on her back and a man in mid-dismount.
Running a gloved hand down the rope which is attached to the mare's saddle, the man (now having fully dismounted), turns a dusty blue-denim stare in Isla's direction as he nods apologetically. "Ma'am." Pushing up the lip of his hat with a single finger, he turns to look at the mare behind him, pausing for a moment, before looking back at the colt. "Y'either cut the shit or I'll hobble you. S'your choice."
After a moment, the colt stills. 'Right choice.' The man says with a chuckle as he loosens off the rope around its neck, before glancing towards Isla. "Apologies. They don't care much about those who are buried here."
Should the Remedy look up, she'll see a rather gangly unicorn colt dramatically flailing about, stomping on offerings and graves alike. Ears pinned and nostrils flared, it's all piss and youthful vinegar that has nowhere to go now thanks to the lasso around its neck. Following the line of the rope back, Isla will see a buckskin unicorn mare with a comfortable saddle on her back and a man in mid-dismount.
Running a gloved hand down the rope which is attached to the mare's saddle, the man (now having fully dismounted), turns a dusty blue-denim stare in Isla's direction as he nods apologetically. "Ma'am." Pushing up the lip of his hat with a single finger, he turns to look at the mare behind him, pausing for a moment, before looking back at the colt. "Y'either cut the shit or I'll hobble you. S'your choice."
After a moment, the colt stills. 'Right choice.' The man says with a chuckle as he loosens off the rope around its neck, before glancing towards Isla. "Apologies. They don't care much about those who are buried here."
