The Gunslinger is in mourning. She has failed her children, her Empire, herself. Deep in the confines of her mind she can hear her father, laughing at her in her failure. Colt had lost one, the promising one. She let the children wander too far from her, let them get caught up in the wonders of the outside world where she could not control them. And there they disappeared. Kid returned to her even when, hours before, her hooves beat into his flesh and her teeth grasped his hide. He was a loyal son, and for such she was grateful. But Sabre, the one who was growing tall and beautiful, perfectly chaotic and strong, did not. At first she did, wandering in and out of the forest behind her brother (or simply on her own), and returning when she thought it most appropriate. Colt was a fool to offer freedom without consequence the way she had been, giving up on the harsh punishments for abandoning her sides as her children grew up. Sabre disappeared. The night stole her away, swallowed her whole and refused to give her back. Weeks have passed and there are still no signs of her return. 

And Kid, he has become something else. Rebellious since the beginning, he has defied every rule she has set in place for him, one day even dragging his aunt Nymeria (sister of Volterra) to their home and telling Colt that he was her apprentice now. She had wanted to burst out laughing at that idea, that Kid was seeking out someone that wasn't her to teach him the handles of life. But there was no falsity in his tones, nothing but seriousness in the way he handled the situation. Perhaps she was the child now, trying to fight a woman she could not even fathom facing (she backed down, regrettably). Ever since the disappearance of his twin, Kid had begun to distance himself from her. Perhaps he sensed it too, heard the tick tick tick of the bomb in her breast, knowing well the consequences of lingering too close. So he spent a majority of his time outside of the forest, far away from her and her unpredictable explosives. And so it was. 

Colt dragged herself to the Threshold, thinking that perhaps the reaping of souls was in order. Whomever she came across, she would consider heavily. The Empire was in need, desperate for more than herself. Diesel, her one recruit, had gotten his ass stolen and he never thought it worth it to return to her. And so the Empire remained quiet and empty, passive while Helovia moved on from the era of supremacy and into the dawn of thievery and bandits. 

She patrols the forest hastily, thoroughly inspecting each horse she stumbles across, wings? Horns? They were in abundance, Colt's ears falling back and teeth grinding together each time she caught sight of them. Damn the over population of them, the once popular equine now a dwindling handful where half of them were flower sniffing pansies. God damn, what happened to the good old days when you could have a chat about the shittiness of life with someone less than pleasant? Colt is just about to give up when her eyes meet a promising speckled body, smile growing wide as iron eyes are alight with the joy of finding someone with potential. Her strides are long despite her stout legs, tail crossing over brindled thighs as she calls out to the man. "You there," her voice is rough and deep, sights locked onto the target as the words carry. "Who are you, traveler?" She looks him over, noting the arched neck and thick muscle, stone cold face melting subtly at the sight of someone who wasn't repulsing. Let's just hope he wasn't another flower eating shit bag like the rest of them. 
"TALK TALK TALK"