COLT
I wouldn't paint me as a heartbreaker
But I've said a few goodbyes
I'd make a promise but I know later
I'm bound to change my mind
But I've said a few goodbyes
I'd make a promise but I know later
I'm bound to change my mind
One of Colt's boots scuffs the ground a bit with a toe, sliding over the dirt and gravel as she listens to the talking wind. "Mm, you strike me as the sort who's rather used to being that though," Colt confesses, glancing up towards where she last saw Flora with a tilted smile to match the bitter humor. It's not funny, not really, but if you don't poke at your bruises how else will you know how much they really hurt. If one needs ice, grab the ice. For the rest, a drink and some concealer does the trick.
The more genuine smile she hears this time strikes a quiet laugh in Colt, a head shake soon following. "Not sure if that says so much about beer or just you. Though, wine isn't usually my choice for similar reasons." A thoughtful pause as Colt's head tilts up a bit, answers always seeming to be in the clouds. "Or maybe just a sign we need more sleep?" A beat, before she shakes her head, rejecting that idea.
One rein slips free from the saddle as Colt tugs on it, letting it slap to the dirt. "Ho," she tells him, one finger raised by his soft nose. He cocks a back leg lazily in response, which seems to satisfy her enough that the 50/50 shot she had of him respecting a ground tie would work today. Making him tired seems to be the trick. She leaves his side and edges closer to the well as Flora's question drifts over, Colt's eyes resuming their prior search along the dirt. "No, was just about to, figured it can't hurt to try." Many things hurt to try, and wishing can definitely be one of them. There's something a little bit extra magical about whispering your wants into some all powerful void and holding your breath to see if anything will change. A hope you know not to get up, but that sails away all the same.
The more genuine smile she hears this time strikes a quiet laugh in Colt, a head shake soon following. "Not sure if that says so much about beer or just you. Though, wine isn't usually my choice for similar reasons." A thoughtful pause as Colt's head tilts up a bit, answers always seeming to be in the clouds. "Or maybe just a sign we need more sleep?" A beat, before she shakes her head, rejecting that idea.
One rein slips free from the saddle as Colt tugs on it, letting it slap to the dirt. "Ho," she tells him, one finger raised by his soft nose. He cocks a back leg lazily in response, which seems to satisfy her enough that the 50/50 shot she had of him respecting a ground tie would work today. Making him tired seems to be the trick. She leaves his side and edges closer to the well as Flora's question drifts over, Colt's eyes resuming their prior search along the dirt. "No, was just about to, figured it can't hurt to try." Many things hurt to try, and wishing can definitely be one of them. There's something a little bit extra magical about whispering your wants into some all powerful void and holding your breath to see if anything will change. A hope you know not to get up, but that sails away all the same.
Depending on the weather, I'm goin'
And hell, baby, nobody knows when
Maybe I wouldn't be already gone again
If it weren't for the wind
And hell, baby, nobody knows when
Maybe I wouldn't be already gone again
If it weren't for the wind
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.
