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Description
Event: (DARPG) Trick or Treat!
Dogs: GF's Foolish Games , GF'S Concentrated Chaos , GW's Pipari & BP's Iced Irish Cream
Handlers: Mariska Brun & Wyatt Evans
House/Lot: Park ( lot b )
   Trick/Treat Log

•THE STORY ------; 1053

Let’s go trick-or-treating, Wyatt, it’ll be fun! We can take the dogs! He sighed and tried to check the watch Hawk had given him months ago. Eris wiggled on his arm and licked his face every time he looked down. He gave up and grinned at the dog, scratching her ears as Outlaw stamped and fidgeted. He was an unhappy stallion, unruly, vicious and frustrated with being taken out when there was no one to trample. Worse, he had tried to stomp poor Eris.

Wyatt thought the Papillon was going to die - and then his stallion because he would have killed Outlaw for that - but the dog stood her tiny ground, barked and backed the war horse down. How something as tiny as she was could put something as vicious and massive as Outlaw in his place baffled Wyatt- it also amused him. Here was the worlds tiniest bark sternly giving Outlaw a dressing down for having the audacity to try and stamp on her and muss her pretty little coat when not even the hell hound that was nearly as big as Outlaw could push the stallion around.

Needless to say Outlaw was disgruntled and not at all inclined to pleasantly stand and cooperate with the tiny bundle in the saddle in Wyatts lap. “Sit still, Outlaw. I know there’ll be some fool back in hell waiting to start a war we can clean up when we’re done here.” Wyatt sighed to the stallion. Mariska was running late and that wasn’t like her. At least not this late...

   She nudged the mare up into a trot, shifting her weight to match the movement. It took a few minutes but Risk fell back into form as if she hadn’t just spent the last four years away from every horse she’d ever known. For a moment she wondered how the shaggy beasts she’d ridden in the nearest town to the Guild were doing now. It doesn’t matter, she told herself. She was on a fine beast tonight. A mare that had stepped straight out of a fairy tale. Pale in coat with long, silken hair that dragged the ground and rippled into flowing waves when the mare moved and her stride! It was a dream- like riding on a cloud. The white mare snorted softly, her muzzle tossed up into the air as they approached the stallion Wyatt had ridden.

The contrast between war horse and palfrey was extreme. While almost identical in height the mare was slimmer and lighter built with elegance and beauty in her every curve. The stallion, on the other hand… he was big. And he was muscled. he was also mean and hell-on-hooves. The only reason he hadn’t burst into flames already was because Wyatt and Lèan had taken great pains to ensure the brute wouldn’t do just that. He chewed his bit and stamped impatiently and as they drew up beside him the ill tempered beast swung out to try and bite the mare.

Wyatt tightened his grip on the reins, holding the stallion in check as the white mare side stepped just out of reach and flicked an ear back in warning. Mariska lowered her hand holding the looped rope around the mares neck and waited, trying not to giggle. She hadn’t dyed her hair since she’d last seen Wyatt. In fact, she’d had Lust pull the dye out of her hair to rest it before coloring it again and the soft not-quite-brown-not-quite-blonde colored hair fell in loose rings and waves to conceal most of the back of the white dress she wore. The dress itself was a hybrid of styles, every bit of it screamed 'Devon McDowell Was Here’. The bodice combined a pinched material that stretched diagonally to accentuate the narrow figure and a soft, relaxed fabric over her bust with a shrug-like jacket and a tall, laced color. The sleeves of the jacket cut open at the elbows and fell away to expose more yellow lace with yellow daises at the peak of the opening.

“Oh, I apologize,” Wyatt spoke and nudged his stallion ahead of her. The soft yip of Eris in his lap made Mariska glance back with a grin. “I- Mariska?” His mouth hung open in shock and Mariska grinned at him. She waited, she tried letting him collect himself and say something else but his mouth just remained open and he kept staring at her.

“Wyatt, sweetie, you’re going to catch flies like that.” Mariska finally said. Slowly he closed his mouth with a clack of his teeth. Indian Outlaw stamped impatiently at the ground, flaring his nostrils with a harsh breath.

     "Oh sorry. I'm just surprised. I thought I was going to hear you screaming that my horse was nipping at yours, but it's you,” he took a deep breath and let it out in a silent whistle, “now I wish I hadn't prayed you wouldn't hit on me, because it's you, not some stranger.” Risk laughed.

“He’s ill-mannered, Wyatt, but he’s a war horse. I would be an idiot to scream that a war horse was acting like a war horse.” Risk shook her head, her eyes still dancing with laughter. “And Belle here is more than quick enough to get out of the way.” the mare shifted, stretching white wings as the black stallion tried to take another bite out of her. With a -pop!- her wing snapped against his jaw. The stallion snorted and jerked back, shaking his head. “Hit on you? Wyatt, if I wasn’t afraid that beast of yours would bite me I’d be kissing you.”

“I promise he won’t bite you,” Wyatt grinned at her, “but I make no promises about me.” Risk answered his grin and nudged Belle closer to Indian Outlaw.

“That sounds like a delightful threat,” Wyatt wiggled his brows at her and leaned in the saddle towards Mariska.

BARK!

“Unnnnnnngh.” Wyatt groaned. Mariska laughed.

“What’s the matter, Wyatt?"

“That dog has the worlds worse talent for cock-blocking that I have ever seen.” he grumbled and scowled down at Goober, seated on Camilla’s head, with a… was that a- “where the hell did he get a quail, Mariska."

“I’m… not really sure.” Mariska stared down at her dog, dumbfounded. Goober wagged his tail in camilla’s face, making his ‘seat’ sneeze.

Mariska Brun decided to surprise Wyatt Evans
she wore a dress a pretty dress with flowers on it
and took the dye out of her hair. OMFG POOR WYATT DIDN'T
RECOGNIZE HIS GIRLFRIEND.

Description
Event: (DARPG) Trick or Treat!
Dogs: GF's Foolish Games , GF'S Concentrated Chaos , GW's Pipari & BP's Iced Irish Cream
Handlers: Mariska Brun & Wyatt Evans
House/Lot: Park ( lot b )
   Trick/Treat Log

•THE STORY ------; 1053

Let’s go trick-or-treating, Wyatt, it’ll be fun! We can take the dogs! He sighed and tried to check the watch Hawk had given him months ago. Eris wiggled on his arm and licked his face every time he looked down. He gave up and grinned at the dog, scratching her ears as Outlaw stamped and fidgeted. He was an unhappy stallion, unruly, vicious and frustrated with being taken out when there was no one to trample. Worse, he had tried to stomp poor Eris.

Wyatt thought the Papillon was going to die - and then his stallion because he would have killed Outlaw for that - but the dog stood her tiny ground, barked and backed the war horse down. How something as tiny as she was could put something as vicious and massive as Outlaw in his place baffled Wyatt- it also amused him. Here was the worlds tiniest bark sternly giving Outlaw a dressing down for having the audacity to try and stamp on her and muss her pretty little coat when not even the hell hound that was nearly as big as Outlaw could push the stallion around.

Needless to say Outlaw was disgruntled and not at all inclined to pleasantly stand and cooperate with the tiny bundle in the saddle in Wyatts lap. “Sit still, Outlaw. I know there’ll be some fool back in hell waiting to start a war we can clean up when we’re done here.” Wyatt sighed to the stallion. Mariska was running late and that wasn’t like her. At least not this late...

   She nudged the mare up into a trot, shifting her weight to match the movement. It took a few minutes but Risk fell back into form as if she hadn’t just spent the last four years away from every horse she’d ever known. For a moment she wondered how the shaggy beasts she’d ridden in the nearest town to the Guild were doing now. It doesn’t matter, she told herself. She was on a fine beast tonight. A mare that had stepped straight out of a fairy tale. Pale in coat with long, silken hair that dragged the ground and rippled into flowing waves when the mare moved and her stride! It was a dream- like riding on a cloud. The white mare snorted softly, her muzzle tossed up into the air as they approached the stallion Wyatt had ridden.

The contrast between war horse and palfrey was extreme. While almost identical in height the mare was slimmer and lighter built with elegance and beauty in her every curve. The stallion, on the other hand… he was big. And he was muscled. he was also mean and hell-on-hooves. The only reason he hadn’t burst into flames already was because Wyatt and Lèan had taken great pains to ensure the brute wouldn’t do just that. He chewed his bit and stamped impatiently and as they drew up beside him the ill tempered beast swung out to try and bite the mare.

Wyatt tightened his grip on the reins, holding the stallion in check as the white mare side stepped just out of reach and flicked an ear back in warning. Mariska lowered her hand holding the looped rope around the mares neck and waited, trying not to giggle. She hadn’t dyed her hair since she’d last seen Wyatt. In fact, she’d had Lust pull the dye out of her hair to rest it before coloring it again and the soft not-quite-brown-not-quite-blonde colored hair fell in loose rings and waves to conceal most of the back of the white dress she wore. The dress itself was a hybrid of styles, every bit of it screamed 'Devon McDowell Was Here’. The bodice combined a pinched material that stretched diagonally to accentuate the narrow figure and a soft, relaxed fabric over her bust with a shrug-like jacket and a tall, laced color. The sleeves of the jacket cut open at the elbows and fell away to expose more yellow lace with yellow daises at the peak of the opening.

“Oh, I apologize,” Wyatt spoke and nudged his stallion ahead of her. The soft yip of Eris in his lap made Mariska glance back with a grin. “I- Mariska?” His mouth hung open in shock and Mariska grinned at him. She waited, she tried letting him collect himself and say something else but his mouth just remained open and he kept staring at her.

“Wyatt, sweetie, you’re going to catch flies like that.” Mariska finally said. Slowly he closed his mouth with a clack of his teeth. Indian Outlaw stamped impatiently at the ground, flaring his nostrils with a harsh breath.

     "Oh sorry. I'm just surprised. I thought I was going to hear you screaming that my horse was nipping at yours, but it's you,” he took a deep breath and let it out in a silent whistle, “now I wish I hadn't prayed you wouldn't hit on me, because it's you, not some stranger.” Risk laughed.

“He’s ill-mannered, Wyatt, but he’s a war horse. I would be an idiot to scream that a war horse was acting like a war horse.” Risk shook her head, her eyes still dancing with laughter. “And Belle here is more than quick enough to get out of the way.” the mare shifted, stretching white wings as the black stallion tried to take another bite out of her. With a -pop!- her wing snapped against his jaw. The stallion snorted and jerked back, shaking his head. “Hit on you? Wyatt, if I wasn’t afraid that beast of yours would bite me I’d be kissing you.”

“I promise he won’t bite you,” Wyatt grinned at her, “but I make no promises about me.” Risk answered his grin and nudged Belle closer to Indian Outlaw.

“That sounds like a delightful threat,” Wyatt wiggled his brows at her and leaned in the saddle towards Mariska.

BARK!

“Unnnnnnngh.” Wyatt groaned. Mariska laughed.

“What’s the matter, Wyatt?"

“That dog has the worlds worse talent for cock-blocking that I have ever seen.” he grumbled and scowled down at Goober, seated on Camilla’s head, with a… was that a- “where the hell did he get a quail, Mariska."

“I’m… not really sure.” Mariska stared down at her dog, dumbfounded. Goober wagged his tail in camilla’s face, making his ‘seat’ sneeze.

Mariska Brun decided to surprise Wyatt Evans
she wore a dress a pretty dress with flowers on it
and took the dye out of her hair. OMFG POOR WYATT DIDN'T
RECOGNIZE HIS GIRLFRIEND.