--- When Hell Comes A Callin' ---

[Mystical]

You boys ever met a real country girl?
Talkin, true blue, out in the woods, down home, country girl

Southern Hellfire

She's a hot little number in her pick-up truck
Daddy's sweet money done jacked it up

Hellfire

She's a party-all-nighter from South Carolina,
A bad mamajama from down in Alabama

3 years + 4 months

She's a raging cajun, a lunatic from Brunswick,
Juicy Georgia peach
With a thick southern drawl, sexy swing and walk,
Brother she's all

Equine

Country, (shoot) from her cowboy boots
To her down home roots
She's country, from the songs she plays
To the prayers she prays

Quarter Horse

A hell raisin sugar when the sun goes down,
Mama taught her how to rip up a town

16.3 hh

Honey dripping honey from the hollerin Kentucky,
Getcha flippin kinda trippie like a Mississippi hippie

English-Style Quarter Horse Built

She's a Kansas princess,
Crazy mother trucker,
Undercover lover
Thick southern drawl,
Sexy swing and walk

Dapple Gray

That's the way she was born and raised,
She ain't afraid to stay, country
Nothin but country

Baby Blue

(Thick southern drawl)
(Sexy swing and walk)

Mare

Brother she's country,
From her cowboy boots
To her down home roots
Nothin but country

The first thing y'all need to know about me? You don't need to know about me. I'm not the kinda gal you meet on a regular basis, nor am I the hooker that you'll find hanging around in darker areas. I'm content just blending in, and occasionally jumping out for the helluva it. Mares like me... Well, we aren't in the ten's but we get by. We disappear into the shadows when it suits us, and we stand out in the sunlight when it doesn't. But when we stand out in the sunlight, we stand out in the sunlight. I'm not talking about a little ray of light, no. The whole entire sun better be shinning on me when I strut out into the open, because I'll accept no less. Anything less would be an insult to me, myself, and I when I decide to grace the world with my presence.

Then again... I've been called vain, and sometimes even arrogant. I don't give two hoots, because they're all wrong. I might come off as vain or arrogant, but... I'm really not. I know I'm not a jaw-dropping, double-taking, drool-inducing beauty. Trust me, I know. It's hard not to notice when there's twenty different shades of lovely flouncing around day and night, fluttering their pretty little eyelashes at anything male. But I also know I'm not hideous either. Just a little, oh, I don't know... normal? But normal doesn't fly when there are exotic pageant winners walking around like us everyday, maybe just a little-bit-prettier-than-plain Jane's. Who wants a little-bit-prettier-than-plain Jane when they can have a simpering sweet, gorgeous, well-spoken goddess?

I'm not any of those things, and I'm damn proud of it. I've got a temper like a nuclear bomb, and enough stubbornness to be three fourths mule [minus that awful bray]. I'm rough spoken, and once I've got the bit chomped down between my teeth, you'd better just sit back and watch me go. I'm over-confident and cocky, I'll admit it right off the bat. I might get myself into some pretty stupid situations, but I'm not a damsel in distress, and I don't want some idiot to come rescue me. Especially not when he'll probably bungle it up and wind up in a tight spot that I'll have to rescue him from.

I hold grudges like Hades himself, and more than once in a blue moon, I'll tell a pretty convincing lie. I don't whimper, I don't sweet talk, and I don't portray myself as anything but what I am: a blunt, country mare who's taken maybe just a little bit too much sun to the head. I swear, I tend to get more than a little violent when things aren't going my way, and I am definitely not a wet blanket who can't do more than cry and sob for her knight in shinning armor. I am the southern epitome of a real mare, not the delicate little fillies I've seen trying to fill the hoof prints of a much bigger horse.

But, like I said... the first thing y'all need to know about me? You don't need to know about me.

That's the way she was born and raised
She ain't afraid to stay, country

My family tree is more than a little screwed up. You see, a real long time ago, there was a mare named Southern Belle. She was a "real" southern peach, ladylike and the whole bit when her temper wasn't in play. She was an Arabian with a bit of Thoroughbred in her, just enough to make her slightly bigger than she should've been with her dished face and delicate built. She was a lovely dapple grey, just like her ma, but she had her daddy's sparkling baby blue eyes. Belle was beautiful; it was the God honest truth.

Then, there was my great-great-great grandmama. Grandmama Hell Belle wasn't anything like her half-sister, the lovely Belle. Grandmama Hell Belle was built more like her mama, a proud Quarter Horse who hadn't been planning on Grandmama Hell Belle when she shacked up with my good-for-nothing great-great-great-great grandfather. Once Grandmama Hell Bell's momma dropped her, she ran, leaving Grandmama Hell Bell behind with her good-for-nothing father, his mate, and their perfect little princess.

In their defense, my good-for-nothing great-great-great-great grandfather and his mate weren't horrible to her or anything of the sort. But, no matter what Grandmama Hell Bell did, she just couldn't fit in with the lovely little family. My good-for-nothing great-great-great-great grandfather was a strong dark bay, with more than a little Thoroughbred in him. His mate was a petite little dapple gray Arabian, all silvery and pretty. Belle was a beautiful miniature of her mother, with her father's eyes. But Grandmama Hell Bell... well, she was a fiery chestnut with a stocky built that left her looking just a little chunky no matter how hard or long she ran. The only quality that connected her to the three was her lovely baby blues.

Grandmama Hell Bell watched Belle grow up and leave the herd for greener pastures, and she noticed the way they didn't mourn her absence when she finally left. Grandmama Hell Bell noticed quite a bit, but she was smart enough to keep her mouth shut. When it finally came time for Grandmama Hell Bell to cast her luck toward the wind and let it direct her, she never looked back at the fickle herd that had spawned her.

Grandmama Hell Bell finally wound up in a nice herd way down South, full to the brim with Quarter Horses, Mustangs, and the like. She didn't stand out with her slightly stocky built or her fiery chestnut coat there, so Grandmama Hell Bell was finally happy. She met up with a gentle giant, a gigantic Quarter Horse without a drop of mix blood in him, and settled down. She raised her children in that herd, and her children raised their children there, and so on until it came time for my own foolish ma to come of age.

Ma was sick and tired of the herd our family had been settled down into for three generations. She fled a little up North, and unexpectedly ran into the herd Grandmama Hell Bell had been trying to escape. She didn't stand out as much as Grandmama Hell Bell thanks to her muted palomino coat, but Ma certainly didn't fit in with the delicate nymphs and gents, despite her baby blue eyes. Still, she struggled, and finally caught the eye of my good-for-nothing Da. Ma fell in love with his lovely dappled gray coat and mysterious, dark eyes. They hooked up, and a few months later, there I was. But Ma and Da weren't happy. Da had a roaming eye, and the tendency to "mistake" another mare for my Ma. She finally had enough of his womanizing ways, and took me back down south to the herd of her birth. I grew up wild there, learning the slang and how to survive out there in the big, bad world. And then when it was time for me to strike out, Ma sat me down and told me this story, almost the exact same way I'm telling you.

She said, "Hellfire, I'm gonna tell this to you straight: you mind yourself out there. You focus on number one, and stay alive. I want you to live long enough to give me pretty, baby blue-eyed grand-foals. Y'hear?" I heard her, and I've been hearing Ma ever since that day. No matter how far I go or how fast I run, Ma's words still ring in my ears like a whisper of wind at times, and a roaring tsunami at others. But I fully plan on following her advice; just maybe not in the way she intended me to. I've heard of a place called Blue Moon Valley... Maybe I'll just swing by there for a little bit and check out the sights. Who knows? It might just be worth a gander or three, maybe even a lifetime.

She's all about the country
From the backwoods she's a homegrown,
Down to the bone,
She's country

It was raining. Why was it always raining? Hellfire glared up at the crying sky, her untrimmed whiskers heavy with moisture. Back down south, they were lucky to see rain once a lunar cycle. Up north though, it seemed like the clouds weeped three times a day, and that was during a dry spell! Hellfire shook her cranium fiercely, her auds flopping every which way with each strong, jerky movement. This definitely hadn't been what Hellfire had in mind when she left the south to see the sights and seek her fortune. Not one bit. The spirited mare glowered out from underneath the ledge she had taken refuge beneath when the downpour started down half an hour ago, quietly willing the moisture to go away.

It wasn't like the foliage needed it; in fact, it was quite contrary to what the plants needed. They were half drowned in the rain water puddling at their stalks, falling on their outspread leaves. Hellfire surveyed the scene with distaste. No, what those plants needed was a good, healthy dose of sunlight. She glanced back up at the sobbing sky, and snorted. They certainly wouldn't be getting that dose though, if those clouds kept finding something to mourn over. What wet blankets. It wasn't as if the rainfall was a welcomed thing, not with the miniature lakes and rivers already forming on formerly dry, level ground. Hellfire eyed the soggy earth more than a little irritably, her auds unconsciously pinned back. She had to walk on that, rather soon, in fact. As if mocking her, the downfall grew harsher, pounding into the earth with a viciousness rarely seen in abiotic beings. Hellfire simply glowered.

[Racing]

Nicely done, Mystical. I get the feeling Hellfire is going to cause as much trouble as her ancestors did. Accepted.