#this is a cowboy au i have no excuse and im trying to relearn writing

[agonzovi]

[1] Dawn in the rest

Yellow Diamond centric

cowboy bellow au :)

(---)

"That's great to know, Missus— ah, what's your name again?"

The inside of this building is horrid. It's a singular room, painted with dominant shades of white and grey, accentuated only because red wine bottles were stacked on a monochrome shelf.

Mrs. Davis, the lady who introduced herself to Yannick, was dressed similarly in aesthetics, with her fancy white suit and red ascot tie. (Immediately written off as a psychopath in Yannick's mental book.)

"Yannick."

"Missus Yanick, I'm sure you have better things to tend to—"

Mrs. Davis pours the wine into her glass, her black claws curling around its base from the stem, and the wine is placed back on the painted mahogany desk with a hard clink.

If it wasn't the fact that wine bottle was branded by some bigshot company (Who's owner is unfortunately facing Yannick, in complete coincidence.) —Yannick could have mistakenly pinned it as some poor homeless person's blood.

"—seeing as you're just a nomad, I certainly won't hold you for any longer."

Yannick notices how the platinum blonde punctuates the first part, uttered with a patronizing drawl; or perhaps this lady just has a transatlantic accent? who knows.

'Why am I here again?'

Oh right. Because apparently, approaching private property with full intent of stealing was illegal.

And here she was facing the owner of that property, extremely wealthy, (surely, she wouldn't notice a few bottles gone, right?) and strangely lenient with her crime, which if Yannick is guessing, an attempt of mercy that's just another manipulation tactic to seem threatening. Yannick's gotten through worse, and couldn't stand to care less.

"I must warn you, buttercup. If I or anyone who works here witnesses you near this part of town again, There will be consequences."

Mrs. Davis' tall figure stands from behind her desk, looming over Yannick menacingly, She takes note of how Mrs. Davis is a good probably 6 inches taller than Yannick's already lengthy figure, and how her glinting teeth are bared through a faux smile emphasized by thick black lipstick.

those are some strangely sharp teeth.

"Are we crystal, Missus Yannick?"

Yannick hasn't said a word so far yet, she's just sat there in a minute streak of staring detachedly and it would probably be socially appropriate to end that streak.

"Crystal."

Mrs. Davis' teeth-smile contorts into a satisfied curve on her face, strangely perfect, absolutely fake.

(---)

"Do not take improper care of my horse!"

Blood-red wine bottle in hand, and also, blood-red lead rope in hand, (What the fuck is Mrs. Davis' obsession with red things?) Yannick runs off into the sunset. With Mrs. Davis' steed, a majestic pure white thing she didn't mean to steal aside the wine.

It was the closest mount she'd taken because Jasper— her horse, wasn't there when she ran outside to escape Mrs. Davis brandishing a pistol, Yannick had stolen the wine right off the desk and blasted out of the pyschologically torturous setting.

The sentence she screamed when Yannick was far off with her horse was the most emotion she had heard from Mrs. Davis, and Yannick doesn't think thats a good sign.

Compiling these events, Stealing a mount and a bottle from a rich lady with terrifying power and who'd already acquired a history of trying to end her life judging from the flying bullets, She was undoubtedly going to be hunted down.

The sun is setting further, and there are dust trails behind her, she pops the cork off the wine and drinks it straight. Holy shit, that is very good wine.

However, Yannick still needs a plan to escape being hunted down for her head, and precisely decides to go straight and hope she finds something.

The horse throws her off.