COLT
"Ain't that the truth," she admits with an ill-contained bite on her grin, "though I'd pay a lot to see that." The look he gives only further unwinds every bit of her control. At least, until he's mentioning a Torchline bar. She drags the humor back steadily, the hum of it still in her voice. "I'll have to look for the tell-tale pony tail next time I'm in town. Sounds a helluva lot better than the Hanged Man there—got in a brawl with some pissant there." Shitty little Ancient, just the thought of him has her edging to mad again. She'd kick his ass all over again, but doubts the bar would grant her entry. She rolls a shoulder to shrug it off, not wanting to waste the energy she's gathered back dwelling on him, not when she's got pony-ride Vesper to dwell on.
At talks of home though, he takes the saddle comment rather literally. It's for the best that she doesn't freely admit, or correct him, that sitting astride him in that manner had been home enough—one of the only grounding things that kept her strong during this trip. A corner of her mouth turns up at his soft reflection and the sincerity there, at the mere fact he'd even be willing to entertain the idea, however much in jest. Any other day she might have fired back that she's tough and she doesn't need that shit, like she has to prove to the world she can keep her head up no matter what gets tossed her way. Right now though, where the salt stings against the friction burns and muscles pull at the bruising, and with him, someone who's already seen her run ragged, it doesn't seem so important to pretend.
"We sure fuckin' should've," she snorts. "Doesn't matter how comfortable you are, hanging on for that long turns velvet into sawdust. You just had to keep it a secret though. Wait for the grand reveal." She could have brought tack with her damnit. Though honestly, neither of them expected to be out here long enough to need it. She's not so sure he would have accepted it back then anyway, not before the desert carved a place into each of them. "Damn show off," she mutters with no reservation of affection kept from her voice.
The rowdy adoration settles into hushed attentiveness as he becomes more thoughtful. It's similar to when he described his sisters. He goes somewhere distant from here, like he wades into something deep and murky, a hidden place he prefers to keep that way. He peers in just long enough to make sure he's got the shape of it right, so that when he comes back to the surface with her, his explanation isn't some shoddy knock off. The way he talks, it feels like he's pulled her under into the gloom with him, just briefly, just so she can get a peek.
She might have stared into the sea and the sky with him all the way until nightfall then, but that threatened to edge too close to tender. Better to pick on something instead, like a thread to tug at and keep busy with, even if it unravels something.
She throws an insolent glance at his quip as she gets into place further up the sand, waiting for him to do the same. As he positions himself along her back, she presses further against him, not about to let one fraction of an inch go to waste. She pulls her free hand up to sweep it from the top of her head and hit whatever point it would on him, but something around her shifts. A sudden swell, the water seeming to exhale, a laugh perhaps at her inattention. Her hand grabs for his shoulder instead as she falls against him, a quick "shit," muttered free as she tries to regain her balance.
At talks of home though, he takes the saddle comment rather literally. It's for the best that she doesn't freely admit, or correct him, that sitting astride him in that manner had been home enough—one of the only grounding things that kept her strong during this trip. A corner of her mouth turns up at his soft reflection and the sincerity there, at the mere fact he'd even be willing to entertain the idea, however much in jest. Any other day she might have fired back that she's tough and she doesn't need that shit, like she has to prove to the world she can keep her head up no matter what gets tossed her way. Right now though, where the salt stings against the friction burns and muscles pull at the bruising, and with him, someone who's already seen her run ragged, it doesn't seem so important to pretend.
"We sure fuckin' should've," she snorts. "Doesn't matter how comfortable you are, hanging on for that long turns velvet into sawdust. You just had to keep it a secret though. Wait for the grand reveal." She could have brought tack with her damnit. Though honestly, neither of them expected to be out here long enough to need it. She's not so sure he would have accepted it back then anyway, not before the desert carved a place into each of them. "Damn show off," she mutters with no reservation of affection kept from her voice.
The rowdy adoration settles into hushed attentiveness as he becomes more thoughtful. It's similar to when he described his sisters. He goes somewhere distant from here, like he wades into something deep and murky, a hidden place he prefers to keep that way. He peers in just long enough to make sure he's got the shape of it right, so that when he comes back to the surface with her, his explanation isn't some shoddy knock off. The way he talks, it feels like he's pulled her under into the gloom with him, just briefly, just so she can get a peek.
She might have stared into the sea and the sky with him all the way until nightfall then, but that threatened to edge too close to tender. Better to pick on something instead, like a thread to tug at and keep busy with, even if it unravels something.
She throws an insolent glance at his quip as she gets into place further up the sand, waiting for him to do the same. As he positions himself along her back, she presses further against him, not about to let one fraction of an inch go to waste. She pulls her free hand up to sweep it from the top of her head and hit whatever point it would on him, but something around her shifts. A sudden swell, the water seeming to exhale, a laugh perhaps at her inattention. Her hand grabs for his shoulder instead as she falls against him, a quick "shit," muttered free as she tries to regain her balance.
Baby, don't fall for me, I'll tell you right now
You're gonna hate me when we hit the ground
Think you're gonna fix me, think we're making progress
You'll be broken with me somewhere in the process
You're gonna hate me when we hit the ground
Think you're gonna fix me, think we're making progress
You'll be broken with me somewhere in the process
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.
