COLT
If he's unnerving as a man, he's utterly intimidating as a jaguar. Built like death incarnate, the first sight of him is a thrill of terror that cuts through her like lightning amid a cloud. It widens at the edges of her eyes, tenses in the muscle of her legs, hums in the pattern of her heart as every inch of her prepares to run.
She likes the feeling.
Her fingers twitch with the electric pulse of the adrenaline spike, goosebumps lifting along her arms, but she doesn't yield to the wild scream of instinct that begs for survival. There's just something about stepping up to that cliff edge and looking down that you can't beat. It's the same with every mean bull, every wild horse, every brandished horn from a feral beast she sets out to bend to her will. That relentless urge to push back against the very nature of safekeeping and test your limits. Colt doesn't want to survive, she wants to live.
Of course, the logic of it all also soothes that impulse with the reality that this vicious beast is still Vesper—one look at those unrelenting eyes proves it. Behind the fear-inducing power of him, he is a sight to behold, draped in shadowed muscle and starlit patterns that threaten to rival the sky above. "Beautiful," she commends as one hand unfolds, thumb and finger resting in thought against the curve of her chin. The thought of seeing him under saddle brings a wicked gleam to her expression, picturing a bloodbath of grooms and riders alike for the attempt.
"Too bad the goal is to keep everyone alive," she shrugs, like it's an actual shame she can't use this shape of him.
She likes the feeling.
Her fingers twitch with the electric pulse of the adrenaline spike, goosebumps lifting along her arms, but she doesn't yield to the wild scream of instinct that begs for survival. There's just something about stepping up to that cliff edge and looking down that you can't beat. It's the same with every mean bull, every wild horse, every brandished horn from a feral beast she sets out to bend to her will. That relentless urge to push back against the very nature of safekeeping and test your limits. Colt doesn't want to survive, she wants to live.
Of course, the logic of it all also soothes that impulse with the reality that this vicious beast is still Vesper—one look at those unrelenting eyes proves it. Behind the fear-inducing power of him, he is a sight to behold, draped in shadowed muscle and starlit patterns that threaten to rival the sky above. "Beautiful," she commends as one hand unfolds, thumb and finger resting in thought against the curve of her chin. The thought of seeing him under saddle brings a wicked gleam to her expression, picturing a bloodbath of grooms and riders alike for the attempt.
"Too bad the goal is to keep everyone alive," she shrugs, like it's an actual shame she can't use this shape of him.
If I go missing, don't bother looking, I'm probably just riding the wind
'Cause cowboys and sunsets, you can always count on them, but never to stay
I guess I'm a cowboy, 'cause there's a sunset on the way
'Cause cowboys and sunsets, you can always count on them, but never to stay
I guess I'm a cowboy, 'cause there's a sunset on the way
Received a Gilded Market wig from Remi that resembles her usual hair and is enchanted to stay on better than most wigs | has a reverse centaur tattoo on her left hand with the legs going down her pointer and middle fingers that looks like this.
