Flycatcher Downs Ring ring, the bartender please?

With a pained and distant smile, the agouti wench staggered to all fours, emitting a soft groan as pressure was once again put upon her limbs. It felt strange, unfamiliar, after being confined to the ground for so long yet her old drive was slowly beginning to reform, holding her figure rigid until she was standing almost confidently beside Sriracha. "Tired," she'd mumble through gritted teeth, seeking encouragement from the striped sir's positive posture. "But I'll follow."

Short posts be short =3