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RE: Kick the dust up - Colt - 05-08-2025
His agreement is a validation she doesn't realize she needs so badly until it nestles warmly against her chest. It's an assurance that all this nostalgia that drags her down sometimes is just the residue from living and not a weakness she needs to bury under a boot heel. It's inevitable really—that change continues as the only unrelenting force of the world, and with it, things are taken and given in stride. There's a burger she used to get as a little girl with her family, when her mother had been alive still, and it's so alive in her mind she can practically taste it in this moment. That burger place got bought out and swapped to a different cuisine 10 years ago. She'll never get that burger back, and each time she remembers it, a small piece of it changes and fades away, distorted with time and the failings of the mind. It kinda felt like she lost her mom all over again when she first saw those locked doors. Such a strange, terribly beautiful thing to waste tears over that.
She grins up at him, imagining him small and energetic, [say]"I bet you were a handful as a boy."[/say] She tilts her head a bit, hair slipping across her shoulder with the motion. [say]"Where's that?"[/say] She'd never really thought about it before, just kinda assumed that like her, he'd always been here in some manner or another. She doesn't want to know the details of whatever he's run from though, the point isn't to come out here and keep being sad over shit you can't change, although that's certainly never stopped her from trying before.
Her empty hand curls up under her chin, elbow pressing gently against her knee as she regards him with some amount of envy. [say]"Ah, so you have just started to scratch the surface of missin' things,"[/say] she murmurs. With a line on her lips, not quite a smile, not quite a frown, she nods towards him. [say]"I know you got shit, but I'm just sayin'...time does something different. You blink and 5 years are gone, just like that."[/say] She snaps her fingers. [say]"Just wait, you'll see. Before long you'll be waking up and wondering when the season changed, and when you got gray hairs, and when all the music turned to shit—not like when you were younger."[/say] She grins, laughing at herself. She had been told similar things once and had cast them away with an eye roll. It's the beauty of youth, to not recognize the value of it until it's too late.
[say]"I do miss fitting in my smaller jeans,"[/say] she says with a wistful sigh.
RE: Kick the dust up - Hawthorn - 05-08-2025
Chuckling a plume of smoke, the courtesan nods - he had been, running around the camps his father often worked at, building houses to withstand the intense cold of Halo. He’d had enough energy to burn that they joked he’d keep the flames lit in the coldest night with how much he bounced around. “[say]Halo.[/say]” Thorn offers easily, taking another slow drag from the cigarette before he stubs it out, remaining belt and leaning against the rail as his seafoam gaze flits back to her.
“[say]I left home at sixteen.[/say]” He offers easily, glancing at Colt and realizing there was a certain kind of kinship with the woman he’d otherwise not found between his clients and his other friends. Things he couldn’t really talk to them about because they wouldn’t get it. And maybe it’s the fun of the night and the new experiences, to her somber smile and painful nostalgia, but Thorn thinks he could tell her anything and she’d have a beautiful and brutally honest point of view on it.
Her mention of grey hairs, though, definitely has him childishly running his glinting fingers through his wild, untamed hair as if in fear of such a thing. “[say]Grey?![/say]” He squeaks a little dramatically, before settling quickly and snorting a little, softening under her admission, because he does think he’s already feeling it.
“[say]I didn’t really see eye t’eye with my old man. I visit my mom and sister a couple times a year, but that’s about it. I do my thing ’n they do theirs.[/say]” He shrugs casually - as if he didn’t have all the perks of nostalgia she recalls. Most of his youth was chased with the shadow of his father’s disapproval and rage.
RE: Kick the dust up - Colt - 05-09-2025
She chuckles at the worry that laces his hands in his hair, as if he might be able to hold the color in a little bit longer. [say]"Don't worry sugar, men always wear it better. Makes you look more sophisticated,"[/say] she reassures with a wink. [say]"Thorn, the silver fox. They'll line up around the block."[/say] Women didn't get off so lucky. Beauty is kinder to the young, and women have a smaller window to capitalize on it. Men somehow just get finer with age, but never stop being boys no matter the grey.
She doesn't know what it would be like to disagree with family to such an extent that she can't stand to be near them for that long. Oh, they'd had fights, as anyone does. Slammed doors and words you wish you could take back that echo in your head when you set it on your pillow, but they had always made up, or at least moved on. She wishes she could have all those awkward breakfasts and screaming matches back just to see them again, but they're in Mort's hands now. Thorn though, Thorn might get to visit them, but they're gone from him in a different way that to her sounds so much more lonely. [say]"The cold doesn't seem like it'd suit you,"[/say] she admits with a soft smile. [say]"Too many jackets to cover up everything you have to offer, it'd be a damn shame for you to stay there."[/say]
Still, sixteen—she'd been an utter fool at that age, how'd he go through life alone then? That's when she'd probably had the most arguments, but that stern guidance had kept her from making too many mistakes she couldn't take back, she realizes that now, hated it then.
Colt leans back until she feels the press of the midnight house exterior, one leg crossing over the other at the knee. She finally tips that double back like water, teeth grit against the burn. [say]"You ever been in love?"[/say] she seems to ask the shotglass instead of Thorn as she looks at it, almost fondly, before she sets it down with a thud on the arm of the bench.
RE: Kick the dust up - Hawthorn - 05-10-2025
“[say]Eh, they already line up for the Flood. He’s got that market cornered.[/say]” He drawls, though the amusement flickers in his face with the idea. Sunjata’s greying had been quite sharp over the last few years, while he’d meticulously checked his own wild tangle of hair, often keeping it natural aside from the occasional dye jobs that were mostly just for themeing. Or, if he wanted to switch it up a little.
But, his seafoam gaze slips to Colt when she mentions the cold doesn’t suit him, and he snickers a little to hear it. He’d thought the same. It’s why he settled in Torchline early on, even if he still missed the snow occasionally. Landing here had been the best of both worlds. “[say]I know, right?[/say]” He teases her, settling in as she takes her shot and leans back and the question almost takes him by surprise.
And it takes him a few moments longer before he finds it in him to reply. “[say]Nah. I mean, I had a lil crush when I was still a kid but when I got out on my own.. Never had the time, y’know?[/say]” He shrugs lightly. “[say]S’also kinda hard to maintain relationships when sometimes ya get the jealous types.[/say]” When it was literally his job to make people feel good. He's silent for a few moments longer before he looks back at her curiously. "[say]Have you?[/say]"
RE: Kick the dust up - Colt - 05-10-2025
She chuckles at his remark about the the Flood, because he isn't wrong. One arm drapes over the bench, propping up her head—too heavy to hold on its own—as she tilts it to watch him, smiling warmly at his recounting. [say]"Lack of time is definitely a kicker,"[/say] she agrees with a knowing look. At the mention of jealous types she rolls her eyes a bit. [say]"So many jealous boys,"[/say] she mutters, as if they're plagued by the rutting stags. Then he asks her back, and whether she expected it or not, she quiets. The warm glow of the evening and the alcohol seem to fade, leaving her hollow. She grows distant, despite remaining perfectly still, but it's in the glossy slip of her eyes and the waver of her voice when it finally picks back up.
[say]“Yeah.”[/say] Her voice is flat, her gaze cast off toward the dark field and the wandering stars. [say]"I was in love, once. I don't wish it on anyone."[/say]
She falls silent, but it's clear something inside her is building up, caught on the edge of her teeth as her lips purse around the thought of it. [say]"You don't realize all the small ways you take pieces of yourself and give them to the one you love. You do it little by little, day by day, and you don't even notice the way you've made yourself so small."[/say] She wishes she still had that shot now.
[say]"You stop hanging out with an old friend of yours, because it makes him jealous, and even though you know—gods, you fucking know—he's got no right to ask it of you, sometimes it just ain't worth the fight. Even if that friend has been with you through thick and thin, even if you're a bit dimmer because of it, you find a reason to make it okay, because someone who loves you wouldn't ask you to do that if it didn't really fuck with their heart, right?"[/say] Her lips pull down in a frown. [say]"People are complicated. You don't think the same, you don't feel the same. It doesn't both you, but it bothers him, and if you love him, how can you keep doing something that you know hurts him? Love is building a life for the both of you, after all, so you have to compromise, that's what everyone says. So you give him that piece of you, to make him happy, and you think—not my other lines, I'll keep those boundaries, I'll keep me alive and just make room for him here around me."[/say] A cruel smile settles then, and a dry laugh that could catch fire too easy.
[say]"It works, for a while, and you're happy. Until—there's another boundary he starts pushing on. He pushes, and pushes, and pushes. And the weight of him on that fence starts to be too much to bear. The good times are good, but the bad times? Baby—they'd bad."[/say] She exhales shakily, water starting to gather at the edges of her eyes, which only makes it so much worse because fuck she doesn't want to be this girl, crying on a front porch over a man, ruining a perfectly good night and even better makeup. She doesn't blink for a second, willing the grief to stay back, praying the night air would dry her eyes before they ran. She sips in her breath, like it's too strong to take all at once.
RE: Kick the dust up - Hawthorn - 05-11-2025
“[say]So many.[/say]” Thorn agrees with a sigh, drawing silent because he’s a very good listener. The breeze is gentle when she answers him, says she doesn’t wish love on anyone, and while he’d had his own little quiet fantasies of falling in love (as most people did), he hears her concerns. It builds, like she’s laying the foundation to reveal the grand museum to display each and every reason she wouldn’t wish it on anyone.
Each portion revealing more and more than the previous one, building blocks to build the story. And he hurts for her, in the way he can hear it in her voice – of all the things that spark and take from her, wondering for a moment what she was like before it happened. Before she’d given up portions of herself to be lost, of settling because it was easier.
Thorn might not have been in love, but he did understand that. The sheen of water glimpsed in her eyes and the shakiness to her breaths, and Thorn doesn’t care if she needs a moment to cry or if she doesn’t want to feel whatever kind of shame she can make up for it. He knows it’s important to loosen the bottle of emotions lest they explode, so the courtesan does what he knows best. He helps in the only way he knows how to. “[say]You sacrificed a lot, y’know? But did he?[/say]” He asks quietly – not giving her much of a chance to respond to it as he pushes off the rail and invades her space, winding his warm arms around her in a tight hug, tucking her face into his glittering shoulder to hide any tears from anyone that might come out and see.
She’d done all of those things for her love, to be considerate and caring, but from where Thorn’s standing it sounds entirely one sided. What did he sacrifice for her when she gave so much to him? "[say]'m sorry, Colt.[/say]"
RE: Kick the dust up - Colt - 05-12-2025
So much for coming out here to get away from the memory and not digging into old wounds that have scarred over. Let's blame it on the alcohol and not a heart trying to be strong when it feels anything but.
Thorn is good. She can feel it, something warm and bright in him as he reaches for her. It's an unexpected tide of understanding, and it threatens to break the fragile dam she's built up. She breaths in harder against his glinting shoulder, her own hands threading around him in gratitude. She laughs then, a soft, bitter thing that's aimed mostly at herself as she sinks into the embrace like a bed that's been calling her name all day from the field.
She'd pulled down every fence her husband had leaned on. All an attempt to fix, to keep him, to prove to him that she was still in it with him. She didn't realize that by letting him in, he'd begun to smother every bit of her out. [say]"You never think you'll be that girl. Too dumb to notice, to weak to stop it, too blind to change. You think you're stronger, smarter, better."[/say] She whispers against his body, cradled in something secure enough to finally confess this to. [say]"Thinking like that...keeps you in. If you do get out, then you have to admit he caught you, don't you?"[/say] A sigh, regret for who she once was. Whatever it was before him, whatever it was during him, it was different now. Not better, she finally realizes, just, flawed.
She tilts her head back, pulling out of the embrace, cold as its absence might be after giving her so much in that moment. [say]"Sorry,"[/say] she says with eyes blinking against the dried tears. [say]"I didn't mean..."[/say] she exhales long and slow, a finger flicking as her hand falls over the side of the bench in some manner of defeat. [say]"He sacrificed everything, in the end. Fucker's dead."[/say] She smiles again, and this one, it's real.
RE: Kick the dust up - Hawthorn - 05-12-2025
He doesn’t care whether she wanted to keep her composure or pretend like things weren’t bothering her. He cares that she’s okay. And the only way the courtesan knows how to do that is to offer touch, comfort, care. Her arms are warm around him in the cool night air and he uses some of his magic to make sure that the wind breezing through doesn’t hit them too hard while they’re out here on the porch, but other than that? He’ll hug her for however long she needs.
“[say]Yeah.[/say]” He says unhelpfully – because while he’d never been in love, he can kind of get the image from what she says as well as his own previous experiences. Of times when he’d strived to be exactly what his father wanted, the perfect little architect because that’s what he was raised to want to be. Building the next strongholds of Halo, just like his father did and his grandfather before him. But Thorn had wanderlust, he longed for places outside of the harsh winters of Halo, of learning how others survived their own temperamental weathers and temperatures. So when he got out? He stayed out. It beat going back because the time that he did, when he told his family what he did now, his father’s disapproval was the sharp bitter taste of acid on his tongue.
She pulls away and Thorn lets her, though he keeps his warm hands on her shoulders, flashing her a soft smile and a shake of his head to her apology. She didn’t need to. “[say]It’s okay.[/say]” He confirms for her, giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze. And when she finishes the story and tells him he did sacrifice everything in the end, that he wasn’t here anymore, the smile she sends his way is one that’s equally stunning as it is relieving. “[say]Good. I’m glad.[/say]” He didn’t really know Colt all that well – more so, thanks to tonight – but he’d always known she was strong. He just didn’t know how strong. And maybe it goes without saying, but the smile he flashes her way is gentle and tender as it is fierce. “[say]You are strong, Colt. And you’re you. Not him. Not whatever box he made ya fit into. Maybe those parts've ya are hidden now 'cause of what he did, but if he's gone, those parts didn't go with him.[/say]”
He really believes that they're still there, deep down amid the heartache and pain.
RE: Kick the dust up - Colt - 05-14-2025
It's hard to stay sad with such an earnest set of eyes and a reassuring hold to lean into are with her. [say]"You're sweet, Thorn,"[/say] she says with a flash of her eyes to his, soft with the warmth she felt settle in her chest, some mixture of Tequila and Thorn's affirmations. Each wound her husband left had been an arrow, but she got practiced at pulling them out with the least amount of harm. She just wishes she didn't have that talent. Despite what Thorn says, some things you do lose for good.
They say to be loved is to be changed. She's changed alright. Each piece she gave him, each bit he demanded, it came away like torn paper, jagged and uneven. She'd been left with nothing but sharpness and hardness. Not ruthless, but not kind either, not exactly.
Swiping a finger under each eye to ensure her eyeliner and mascara was still intact, Colt smoothed her hands over her clothes, the motion echoing on the inside. [say]"Alright,"[/say] she says with all her former brightness. [say]"Let's get back in there and dance our assess off."[/say] she grins as she rises, grabbing his arm and tucking him along her side as she pushes back through the door. As they break back into the noise she picks up speed, heading to the dancefloor with a sudden rush, like she can outrun something if she just gets there quick enough. The dip of hips and the turn of shoulders might shake the memories loose and let her enjoy the night again, at least that's what she hopes.
[FIN]