An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Old Town Road (AKA The "Hob is a Horse Girl" Fic)
By @arialerendeair and all art by @amielot (Art Masterpost!!)
Art featured in this Chapter: The Circus Posters
Summary:
Hob helps to rescue Dream - a rare Unicorn Centaur from a decade of captivity at the hands of Roderick Burgess.
Dream is injured, and severely malnourished, and over the next few weeks as he heals and grows stronger - he and Hob grow closer.
When Dream sets off to return to his home, Hob accompanies him, and the two of them grow closer and closer, until they find themselves unwilling to let each other go.
Will they manage to find their happily ever after together?
(It's me, of course they will - just an adventure or seven first!)
Hob had done his fair share of odd jobs over the years (and far more that he wasn't willing to admit to in polite company), especially in the last five or so, but working for a Circus was a new one. Had a hell of a lot of benefits though. Burgess, the man running the place - hadn't asked anything about his background or where he'd come from, had asked if he was willing to work hard, keep his mouth shut, and shovel shit, and had hired him on the spot when he'd said yes.
(He'd done far worse jobs for far less money. Nothing was bad if you could find the bright sides in it. Even shoveling shit.)
Now, of course, he'd done the smart thing and set about making friends. There were all sorts that worked for Burgess. Some that he kept his distance from (having a few vicious friends wasn't a reason to hate a man, but it meant Hob kept his head down and away from the Ringmaster and owner of the place), but many others he made friends with by virtue of conversation. It'd always been something he was good at, making friends, and relaxing people as they chatted together. Made even easier by the fact that he'd traveled a lot and was open to traveling more and working long hours.
Within a few weeks, he was picking up additional jobs and working in several different areas of the circus. He didn't sleep much, but the additional money he made under the table helping out each of the different bosses was worth it. Something he stuffed in his shoes and kept close to his chest when he wanted whiskey that burned his soul on certain days of the year. Especially if one of the other cleaners or security wasn't quick enough to get away from their... curiosities, as Burgess called them.
