The last time she had laid eyes on the pale mare had been during the pandemic. She remembers the cough and the flecks of blood on those lips, and how she hadn’t cared. Bo would share in that sickness, delighting in the moments that saw them together again.
Like night, she comes.
Bo is always there, somewhere. Never far, even if she’s not quite always near. She always looks for the pale skin, like moonlight and snow. Her plum gaze searches, finds, and fills with a familiar heat that has always held the weight of love and lust - the two nearly indistinguishable as far as Bo is concerned.
The Dimension made certain that Bo felt both; responded to both and did not lash out at her suitors, male or female. She had been taught well, a jungle-whore with alluring eyes and hips. It made her smile just to think of it! Now she’d been reduced to nothing but a name that her children said sometimes, and a name that her oldest and dearest friend still remembered.
“Miss me?” she murmurs, ever the coy sort as she sidles around Ryatah and nips at her haunch in a kind fashion. Her plum eyes come to rest on that well-loved face. “Been too long again.”
@[Ryatah] ❤️❤️❤️