PIE O MY [12th Night]
"Listen punk, I do not give up. Ever. Manage it."
âď¸[Bad Habits] đđ´đĽđ[Star Power]đ
*turns your mob horse into a marketable plush*
đđĽLore+Design Notes Under the Cut đĽđ
She's a bad bitch from Jersey who suffers from tummy aches but can run a MEAN mile. Super energetic and loves to win, but losses absolutely crush her and her mood can be affected for a very long time because of it. Overall she's a huge, compassionate lady who uses food as a love language and always has a smile on her face. Lady Pie also has a bad habit (cigars) that she picked up from her strange friends from off the race course. She can be found smoking a celebratory Cuban after any G1 she wins, under the stands, with her friends.
She was raised by a pair of fantastic but very low class folks; her father the garbageman, and her mother the washed racehorse. The two of them supported her however they could, and her mother always gave her tips to help out-race the other kids on the schoolyard. Pie o My made several friends and became somewhat of a terror at recess, betting her lunch that she could beat any challenger who approached. She lost her lunches a few times, but eventually became kind of.... *Good* at the whole running thing. She entered a local race as a rodeo because her friends kept egging her on- and despite no proper training she actually finished first in her age group by several very comfortable lengths. She ran all the way home and begged her parents to let her race- and they relented on on condition. She'd go to Tracen Tokyo. The school her mother never got the chance to attend.
Her race style is a bombastic front-running approach on the shorter sprints, and a more conservative late closer approach when there's any more than a mile to run. Either way, she loves a dramatic finish and will do her best to avoid being boxed in. Homegirl just lovesssss to pass the pack on the outside, on the last corner! She's a speed and power based Uma who has pretty bad stamina+wit but her dumb ass can go fast and that's what counts. Training her requires a lot of caution around the inner rail, and avoiding the dreaded Box of Horses. She needs simple instructions and a clear goal or she gets stuck in her own head about it all. To manage her anxiety, she tends to talk to herself out loud. Quietly, but pretty consistently.
I gave her 90's jockey goggles (inherited from her mother) and a cute claw clip, and a baggy cropped basketball top with compression undersleeves that match her jockey's silks. Comfy Adidas tearaway sweats in that lovely green they use to come in, that end under some kneepads as a stupid mob joke/ref to the busting kneecaps thing. I also decided she has big ol' black boots with tall white athletic socks to match her black hooves and markings irl. I think she'd wear a big ol leather jacket when she isn't racing, but I wanted her trackwear to be functional so... We can sacrifice some style points for that one. I think the jacket belongs to her father, too.
Also..... she once accidentally lit the dorm trash bin on fire with a cigar she didn't fully put out. Luckily, even though it was the middle of the night, the smoke alarms went off and the fire department came fast enough that no one was hurt. She was fined 600$ CAD, and feels guilty about it to this day.
