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The Burned Handler
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I used to be a handler like you, then I turned into a horse.
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"Maybe I thought listening to you," Cris poked Jane's breast, enjoying the soft give under his finger, and gave her a playful smirk, "was more interesting than talking."

Personally, he rather liked the Monolith Gardens, and more importantly, she'd done her whole giving-orders thing one evening and told him to pick a trail they hadn't hit together next time they hiked. This was one of the ones on the list; honestly, he'd just picked at random, and in the time they'd known each other they'd gone to most of the trails already anyhow. They'd been walking the lasso loop of a trail for a couple hours now, their pace easygoing and Crisanto holding the water in his pack, and for a lot of the first portion Jane had been ragging on his choice of trails.

The first time, he'd reminded her she said to pick a new trail, and this one came up almost by default, but after that he just let her rant. It was good for her, clearly, and she was fun when she was all fiery. As annoyed as she seemed now, they'd be enjoying themselves a lot more afterwards. The ridgelines and rock spires loomed above them while patches of wildflowers and desert grass swayed to and fro in the sparse summer breeze, and their voices carried into cloudless sky to evaporate in the heat. Somewhere in the distance there was the clatter of hooves, a horse and rider galloping further along the trail. The rider saw them and shouted a little greeting as his massive beast overtook them a while back, before passing off into the distance.

There was quite a bit to appreciate out here if you had an eye for it, even if it did all make him feel unbearably small in the world. Jane didn't seem to have that eye, though, which honestly surprised him given the gusto she hit other trails with. Less surprising was the way she kept turning to gaze at him and acted like he didn't notice, but that was fine. Their arrangement came with staring rights.

The rock face to his right had a little crack in it, dressed with lichen and a sprout of verbena that emerged from the fissure. His hand darted out and took one of the flowers by the stem, plucking it free before presenting it to her as a little peace offering.
Edited by The Burned Handler, Sep 2 2016, 02:43 PM.
MurderWeasel getting impatient
 
Hiya, jerk! Please don't post until edits have been completed, as doing so causes confusion/messes up the queue.


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18:48 Ruggawork I have faith in you!
18:48 Ruggawork and your ass!


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16:35 Kilmarnock Maybe Iktor?
16:35 Kilmarnock Maybe Toben.
16:35 Kilmarnock hard to tell until they make out with me.
16:35 *** mib_6brm7d is now known as Irene


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Walkabouts · Memories from the Past