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[burningblossoms]

Yukiko Amagi

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[burningblossoms]

Fair enough.

[Yukiko tugs her bird into a stop and sets herself, ready to go when he is.]

On three?

[prometheanflame]

Ready.

[He won't die.]

One, two. [He leans forward.] Three!

[He whips the reigns like before, and Greensleeves makes a mad dash along the corral like before. And like before, the ride is bumpy and kind of uncomfortable.]

[burningblossoms]

[Yukiko's takes off at a squeeze from her knees and bolts after Greensleeves, warking happily. It loves to run, always, and Yukiko's holding on tight. Leaned over to make herself more aerodynamic, she laughs brightly as she catches up to him, keeping even for now.]

Haha! Go, go!

[prometheanflame]

[Greensleeves warks happily, seeing this as a game of running free while Mohammed clings to the saddle horn. Yukiko catches up to him swiftly, as the Chocobo has grown overconfident in his abilities and starts falling behind.]

Faster!

[He shakes the reins. Please interpret this as running!]

[burningblossoms]

[It might help too, that Yukiko is a bit lighter. Either way, she's making good progress, her bird setting a quick, ground eating pace that catches up.]

Hah! Look out! I'm going to catch you!

[And then they're basically neck and neck, her bird straining it's beak out low to get a little further ahead.]

[prometheanflame]

[Greensleeves ignores the reigns, but he can't allow himself to be the loser. He lowers his head and sprints ahead of Yukiko.

Mohammed shuts his mouth and waits for it to be over.]

[burningblossoms]

[And Yukiko's bird, by contrast, speeds up. It refuses to be number two. This is it's home turf, bro! Don't disrespect him bro!

The finish line is coming up, just a few feet ahead, and it comes down to what amounts to a photo finish as they both thunder across the line with heartbeats at most between them.

And no camera to call it.]

Weeee! I looks like a tie!

[prometheanflame]

[He can't tell who won either, but Greensleeves seems satisfied. One round is enough.]

It looks like. [That was fun, though.] I think we can call it a match?

[He wants to ride again, but after a week-long break.]

[burningblossoms]

I think so too.

[She agrees, slowly bringing her chocobo down to an easy trot and sliding off the bird's back. Rolling her fingers along it's sides, brushing off some of the lather that's begun forming at it's side...]

They need a break. That was a good race.