You’ve entered this mare’s life with all the subtlety of an elephant in the back seat of a mini cooper, but she’s going to have to deal with that all on her own. You’ve got your own problems to sort out- mainly, these butterflies. And nobody needs to start talking about how butterflies are perfectly harmless. You know better. For instance, the way they all swirl towards the right makes your unsteady body want to lean, lean, lean to the right as well, following them on their endless spiral up from the ground to the sky, presumably to infinity and beyond. You can’t tell how high they go, but it’s much higher than you care to look.

“You make it stop!” you insist back to her as she sort of freaks out, which in turn freaks you out. Tossing your head up, you throw your body into a dramatic half-rear (accentuated by the noise of your gravely whinny) and stumble backwards on unsteady limbs. On the mud, your horseshoes give you no extra traction. At this point, they’re very much like useless anchors on your feet. One step, two steps, three steps annndddd… plop. Your ass falls down into the mud, your front hooves landing on the ground almost in unison, leaving you dog-sitting on the ground. It’s a familiar position to you, so you’re not too upset- an unwelcome side effect of your drugs is a tendency to overreact. Still, you’d rather be high than sober any day.

Unfortunately, despite all the chaos, the butterflies are still present, their wings roaring as they continue their merry dance. Oh, and somebody else showed up too. You don’t really know who, since you can’t see them yet, but you hear their voice beyond the wall of butterflies, panicked, daring to venture towards this unwelcome meeting. You didn’t even want to be here.

Sighing dramatically, grumbling as the first mare shouts some more about making something stop, you finally give up and give in. If you’re going to be high, you’re damn well going to be high in peace. And if she’s not going to shut up when you tell her to, she’s going to shut up when you make her do so. STOMP. Your front hoof lifts and falls back to the earth, smashing into the mud, and you lower your neck as the ground begins to shake… shake… shake. Perfect. Much better.

Taking a deep breath, you sigh with happiness as the butterfly wall stops, leaving nothing but willow branches in their stead. “You should’ve just done that in the first place,” you hiss as the distraught woman, shaking your head and closing your eyes. All you wanted was some peace and quiet. At least now you might be able to get it.


OOC| Oxy used War Stomp: A single stomp of the hoof can lightly rattle the ground and throw an opponent off balance.

Oxy