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I AM IRON AND I FORGE MYSELF
Weaver kicks the flower in her direction, in what Wessex takes as an invitation to partake in whatever they’re having. She’s about to reach down to smell the plant when the old man breaks into raucous laughter - and Wessex is the cause of it. At first she’s rather perturbed, having knowledge of what dildo’s are (thank you, mercenary experience - you think sailor’s language is rough, try a mixed company merc group), but knowing full well that they dont naturally sprout out of one’s head. And she’s a girl, with no desire to interact with the male reproductive system.
She could threaten him over it, but there’s no fun in that, and besides, they look like they’re having a good time. So with a derisive snort, she snatches the bloom off the ground and chows down. “Mine are, she says definitively, in between great chomps, shaking her head in his direction, as if to emphasize them. A far as proper placement… these are her lady balls, as far as she’s concerned. Capable of mass destruction, the things that give her courage in the face of danger.
While the tank may be a ‘big’ mare, her tolerance for other substances is low - especially for substances she’s never tried. It doesn’t take very long before she’s starting to feel… different. Man, her horns are awfully heavy. She blinks, trying to shake the weariness and cobwebs from her head, but it just doesn’t go away. Then her hooves feel like lead, and she takes a peek at them. Yep. Still there, still normal. Huh. She lifts one, then the other, and yeah, they still feel heavy. But there’s something else tugging at her mind, so she looks up, just in time to catch Weaver’s transformation into a… a… raven? Like her companion? Wessex bursts out laughing, cause oh man, that is just too funny.
Weaver’s A RAVEN!
W E S S E X
@Weaver @Albrecht
-- magic and force allowed, no death or permanent damage --
