There were two types of horses in this world. There were the planners and the plotters, always looking at the world like one giant chess board the the black pieces and the white, each in some intricate dance with the other as they strove to win, sought out that "check mate" like it was the sole purpose in their life, their one and only reason for the breath that filled their lungs and the purpose that kept each and every step moving one pace ahead kf the other. Now, within this one massive group of individuals, there were subcategories of course. There were those that strived to make this world a better place, driven and bound to go to the edges of the earth to chase out every villain and sinner that dared to bring harm and darkness to the innocent and the pure. Then obviously you had the individuals that were greedy, gluttonous, starved and ready to take all that they could without consideration of hose that they stepped on; so long as their own self centered desires were met, it didn't matter how many lives they ruined, how many were hurt. There were some that lingered in the grey lines of either, and sometimes they even changed the tunes to which they sang. Either way, whether they were fighting for good or bad, dark or light, they had one big thing in common. They had plans.

Then, there were the, well, non-planners and non-plotters. What would be a good word for these individuals.... Wildcards, maybe? Yeah. That sounds good. Now, these individuals had no great strategies, no spectacular web of goals that they sought to fulfill before their time in this life was finished. These individuals, they drifted here and there, going anywhere and nowhere in particular as the days came and went. They did not need some grand purpose to fuel their steps, had no desire to follow some carefully planned map to reach some X on the map that marked some treasure that would ultimately lead them from a life of rags to a life of riches, taking them from being just another face in a sea of face to being some great being whose name would be written in the stars on on the lips of those around the world. They did as their own desires wished, allowed for their limbs to carry them to anywhere and everywhere without a much as a fleeting thought of just where it was that they were going and what they would find. They took every obstacle and challenge in stride and met the odds of unpredictability head on with a wild sense of thrill and adventure. They were not focused on outcomes or aftereffects, if they would get to where they wanted or not. They were the carefree butterflies in a world of goal driven rivers with their sights set on one singular destination. Lucille Daring was one of these wildcards. This was where it was that she fit in as best as she possibly could, and even then she was never one to care about going outside the borders and testing uncharted waters.

Bronzed skin gleams beneath the warm summer sun as it bathes this new and wild realm in shards of gold. Glittering emerald gaze teach along the finner details of the land that rolled out Berge ber into the far distance at the feet of jagged mountains. The lush greenery, the abundance fragrances of summer fruits and flowers filled their gentle winds that bellowed softly across the rolling hills and scattered clumps of trees, toying with her chocolate dreads and sapphire blue bandana. Every nook and cranny of this wilderness was filled with life, the pitched songs of little feathered musicians flitting about without a thought as the danced and chased each other, the distant trickling of gently flowing water somewhere out of eyesight, everything about this place was what most would sigh in awe and wonder. To the draft mare marked and dressed in gold, it was just... nice. It didn't leave her heart racing in her chest like the tossing saltwaters crowned in white foam as the rose up for the heavens only to crash back into itself. The spray of the sea on her face, the screech of the gulls, the ever changing emotions of the ocean, that was what called to her wild and free spirit. But even the most faithful of her admirers sought to venture inland and see just what hidden treasures the world might have to see. The sea would always call to Lucille Daring, but it was the wonder of what had happened to her good ol' sparring partner Corsair that had drawn her from the sun bleached shorelines and roaring waves that thundered and crashes upon their soaked counterpart. How she ended up here so far inland, she couldn't quite explain or justify, but did it matter? Not really. She stands there on the border of the lush and teeming dale, fully aware of the scents that surely belonged to the natives. She sends forth a call from the depths of her chest and listens to the echo of it bouncing of the towering peaks. What had driven her to call out, she wasn't really sure, but again the same question dances through her thoughts. Did it matter? Not really. What would be, would be and she was more than ready to grab the metaphorical bull by the horns and see where it takes her.