The Horse Stables

Allison sat down. "I guess I'll see you around then"

Asher Harlow entered the horse stables earlier than she would like to. She was sleeping until the taste in her mouth gotten to be unberrable. Stepping gingerly on the straw covered floors, Asher was barely wearing her flip flops. She walked over to one of the horses and fed it an apple. Ash doesn't normally like animals, but she felt generouse today. Since her recent banning from the music room, Asher has been finding new places to practice her music. She pivoted around to get her guitar and a drum pad. Asher layed them out carefully and began to set up.

Inside the horse stables, nearby piles of hay, sat a lonely camper. At first glance, the person on the shadows looked like a boy, but then, the chest size pointed out her gender. Her hair is spiky short and ginger, with a single strand of hair that goes down to the shoulders, carefully braided with a plastic bead. The girl seemed asleep, with a concerned yet tough expression featuring her face. On her lap, a sword made of stygian iron, but wrapped around the handle, a piece of cloth. Which meant that that sword wasn't fit for her. Still looking asleep, she steadied her breathing upon hearing footsteps. Antoinette knew how to defend herself if needed, one of the many lessons life taught her.

Asher looked up and scanned the area, nothing. Ash shrugged and continued setting up the drum pad. She tapped on it, beating weveral different rythms at a time. "Arroz con leche me quiero casar con una señorita de la capital,que sepa coser," She hummed. The woman at the foster home used to sing this to the kids a while ago. Asher formed a small smile on her lips as she finnished with the drum. She hit it loudly, causing a horse to cringe. Ash didn't seem to mind as she went over to the guitar and tuned it.

Antoinette growled quite loudly. "Quittez le chant. Votre voix est ennuyeux." She spoke in her natural language, too lazy to speak english. The noise was also annoying, and she groaned. "Quit the noise as well." She mumbled, opening her eyes to show glaring emeralds. She looked annoyed but also looked natural, like if she was Always like that.

"Please, I was here first." Ash rolled her eyes and turned around. Facing the girl, Asher picked up her guitar so she could see it. "And anyway, French is similar to Spanish...so I'd think before you say, girl." Asher walked a few steps closer to her, annalyzing her. She seemed like she was a tough girl. But it could just be a shell. And this Argentinian girl was about to crack it,

Antoinette's right side of face came into the light as she leaned forward, glaring at her. "Listen up, latino Sunshine. I was here way before you. I heard you come in. So yeah, you got no valid arguments. Secondly, why should I think before I speak? I speak what I want, I do what I want." She rolled her green eyes, leaning back onto the hay. She knew her dad had the habit of stating he did what he wanted and she thought he was right.

Asher was about to strangle the girl. Now she was just insulting her. "Listen white girl, we can play the racist name game all day long but unlike you and your hot mess going on over there, I have something to work on and I don't need your incompadence disrupting me." Ash spun around from where she was facing and placed her guitar on a stand. She sat down on a stool and took out her note pad.

"White girl." Antoinette laughed, her head rolling back. "So ironic." Her french accent was thick and she raised na eyebrow at the girl, smirking. "Somehow I like your attitude. What's your name?" She asked, as if they haven't been arguing at all. Antoinette was that kind of person.

"I have many names." Ash replied casually. "It is your choice on what I am to be called." Asher was debating in her mind if she should tell the girl her name. They'd allready started off on the wrong foot and as of right now, Asher doesn;t want to be any closer to her as she is right now. Asher let out a sigh, "My name's Asher." She said coldy. If she was to say her real name, the girl would probably laugh. So, she just went with one of her nicknames.

"Asher, huh." Antoinette said, fishing a lighter and a cigar from her jeans pocket. "From the ashes. Like Cinderella." She chuckled, rolling her eyes. She placed the cigar in-between her lips and lit it up, uncaring about the hay. And she also felt weirdly okay with Asher's presence. She never smoked near anyone. After blowing an 'o' of smoke into the air, making some horses sneeze and neigh, she said. "The name's Antoinette. But you can call me Musichetta if you wish." She nodded, focusing on her cigar.

"Mary Antoinette has been made fun of for centuries for something she didn't say. My people rose against the monarchy for it was right, merci." Antoinette rolled her eyes, blowing smoke in the air. She raised an eyebrow. "Thought that was obvious. Yes, I smoke, ever since 12 I believe." She pondered. "That's what happens to you when you live in the streets." She shrugged. Her shirt had a large gash that showed her ribs of the left side and over the skin, a heart-shaped scar. Seemed self-inflicted.

ooc- Ignore the text on the gif.
bic-
Asher rolled her eyes, "So you're a bad*** aren't you, Frenchy." In Asher's mind, she thought this girl was some rich French chick who started to smoke and do all the edgy crap because daddy wouldn't let her use the yacht or something spoiled like that. Where she grew up, the care takers would spank her if she even pouted or said something weird.

Antoinette glared daggers at her. "You insult me. I am indeed a bad***, but I won the right to say I am one. I saw my mom being murdered. I saw my brother die. My father never even said 'Bonjour' to me once, lost Money, lost house, lost everything I had. So, Dora, I hope you are happy to know that yes, I am a bad***." Her eyes were cool, steel cold and penetrating Asher's. Yet they were not lying. They looked even hurt a bit.