i'm on the wrong side of heaven, and the righteous side of hell
He had a lot of ass kissing to do, and what better place than the Field? The congregating place for the homeless and the lost, the down trodden and at least two or three general wastes of oxygen. Warship had run into those types more times than he cared to think about; they didn’t last long around him. Insolence ranked high on the list of things that pissed him off, and he had never been one to keep quiet when he was pissed off. So now, he was more careful about who he approached in the Field. They had to have a certain something, that something that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. It was an aura around them maybe, or perhaps it was something in the rise and fall of their chest. Whatever it was he looked for it, carefully avoiding those with the vacant stares and drool-coated lips.
The Field was busier than usual these days, and while that was definitely something to be happy about, it didn’t make his task any easier. In fact, he had to pick even more carefully, damn near staring at individual horses to see if that had that “it” that he looked for. Finally, he spotted it. It lay on an odd-colored mare, clearly one of the products of the “Carnage turned into space a fucked everything with a vag” era. In the years following that little tryst, every other horse in Beqanna looked like space in some manner or another. But it wasn’t her coloring that called him over (though it had caught his eye) but her overall demeanor. She wore “fuck off” like he wore his scars; proudly, confidently (though she may now have known how that showed through). “Tell me what you’re looking for, and I’ll tell you if I can provide it.” he said by way of greeting, swishing his tail across his hocks and cocking a hind hoof. It was unconventional, perhaps, but so was she. And really the whole “namehomeoffer” thing got boring. If there ever was a time to mix it up, now seemed to be it. “Warship.” he offered, gazing at her impassively, as if searching for more evidence of that “it” that he was constantly looking for.
warship
