Here comes the rain again, falling from the stars
Who: Big Boss heavendivided and The Boss herototheend
When: Friday 17th September
Where: Crow's Head Beach
Summary: A much more civil discussion than the one that came before, and another kind of reunion
Warnings: Swearing, possible violence, MGS's own brand of twisting of established historical fact...
He was getting old; twenty or so, an ageing stallion turned ghostly white, a cataract visible in the depths of one large brown eye. Suffice was to say that this was not the same young horse she had ridden through Tselinoyarsk; he was, like her, old and worn, exhausted by a long and difficult life. There were faint scars on his nose that hadn't been there years before, just as there were scars on her body that had only come with age.
This horse, who had allowed only her to ride it. This horse, whom she had left in Rokovoj Bereg with her life.
He shivered as she ran her fingers through his overgrown and tangled mane, and down his flank, then dipped his head, blowing the sand from about her feet before slowly moving away down the beach. He would be there when she needed him, she knew; when this meeting was done with, one way or another.
Militaires Sans Frontieres. Big Boss. Les Enfants Terribles.
There was so much she needed to know, and if he did not show or was not completely honest with her, she would use her training and her unrivaled determination to discover the truth, no matter what that meant. Infiltration was, after all, what she did best.
When: Friday 17th September
Where: Crow's Head Beach
Summary: A much more civil discussion than the one that came before, and another kind of reunion
Warnings: Swearing, possible violence, MGS's own brand of twisting of established historical fact...
He was getting old; twenty or so, an ageing stallion turned ghostly white, a cataract visible in the depths of one large brown eye. Suffice was to say that this was not the same young horse she had ridden through Tselinoyarsk; he was, like her, old and worn, exhausted by a long and difficult life. There were faint scars on his nose that hadn't been there years before, just as there were scars on her body that had only come with age.
This horse, who had allowed only her to ride it. This horse, whom she had left in Rokovoj Bereg with her life.
He shivered as she ran her fingers through his overgrown and tangled mane, and down his flank, then dipped his head, blowing the sand from about her feet before slowly moving away down the beach. He would be there when she needed him, she knew; when this meeting was done with, one way or another.
Militaires Sans Frontieres. Big Boss. Les Enfants Terribles.
There was so much she needed to know, and if he did not show or was not completely honest with her, she would use her training and her unrivaled determination to discover the truth, no matter what that meant. Infiltration was, after all, what she did best.