COLT
I'm homesick for somewhere that doesn't exist
For someone I'm still learning to miss
Said goodbye, wasn't ready yet
Only see you in this silhouette
For someone I'm still learning to miss
Said goodbye, wasn't ready yet
Only see you in this silhouette
"Flowers and cheek pats are all it takes to traumatize you?" she asks with a wry twist of her lips. "Here I thought you were made of firmer stuff." A tease to pair with his own humor at the tale, though she suspects having Pierce get anywhere near your face would be worthy of some therapy.
There's a bit more of the usual Vesper. All sharp angles protecting the softer edges. Warm, but in the way that might burn if you hold on too long. That's what it felt like any time she tossed him around her mind anyway, little scorch marks lingering like a brand he tried to leave behind.
It comes back quicker than she expected, the normal Vesper, and she can't help but feel like she just watched him slip back behind a barrier he normally keeps propped up. Maybe he caught himself, or maybe it was the weight of her look, no more fond than she at being exposed. It sets her lips together into a thin line, a shade of regret that she hadn't held onto that a little bit longer before she lost it.
She glances at him with a shake of her head, "you just stating the obvious now?" One 'brow lifts, unimpressed. "I can do that too—he's arrogant, and—" She bites back the rest with a click of her teeth and huff. There's dozens of complaints she could launch against him, most false just to be an irritant the way he's been for her. Because admitting to the other sides of him feels like an invitation for them to linger. She doesn't want that, doesn't want him beside her like this, alone and without a task to keep her distracted from that cutting smile, so might as well prod him enough that he leaves. Quicker than she'd like though, one of those sides she's trying not to look at catches her eye. So she stills a bit, reasoning that can keep her head, that she will. "That's all you get," she says instead, shrugging.
Just as she decides not to wield her blame at him like a weapon, he doubles down on that frustrating way of pressing right on the spot she's most sore, as equally skilled at that as he'd been at pushing pleasure. "Pretend?" she snorts. "Honey, what you took for an opossum is just an armadillo." One hand lifts to meet his bump with a smack on his arm, too light to mean much, but part of her is still prickling at the truth he's scratching at.
Chewing on her ire as they walk, he manages to set down something softer again, enough to earn a look that isn't shale. It subdues even further as an abrupt laugh peals from her, "that's the most absurd thing. Were you reading your sister's books again?" A smile lingers, stubborn. "There's no one waitin' at the end of the world for me except Mort." She'd promised that end to one guy once already, she'd not be making that mistake again. "And I don't make promises while drunk." Or in general, if she can help it. Word is worth something, but any kind of binding seems to beg to break when she feels it. A beat, and she's more solemn. "But... yeah. I'd stay, as long as I could. No sense dyin' over old wood and dirt, but worth fightin' for it for a bit at least." This kind of way of being seen, it doesn't rankle quite so bad. "You're the same way," she accuses with a glance and a subtle return of her smile. Maybe not for a ranch, but he'd go down swinging for his sisters.
There's a bit more of the usual Vesper. All sharp angles protecting the softer edges. Warm, but in the way that might burn if you hold on too long. That's what it felt like any time she tossed him around her mind anyway, little scorch marks lingering like a brand he tried to leave behind.
It comes back quicker than she expected, the normal Vesper, and she can't help but feel like she just watched him slip back behind a barrier he normally keeps propped up. Maybe he caught himself, or maybe it was the weight of her look, no more fond than she at being exposed. It sets her lips together into a thin line, a shade of regret that she hadn't held onto that a little bit longer before she lost it.
She glances at him with a shake of her head, "you just stating the obvious now?" One 'brow lifts, unimpressed. "I can do that too—he's arrogant, and—" She bites back the rest with a click of her teeth and huff. There's dozens of complaints she could launch against him, most false just to be an irritant the way he's been for her. Because admitting to the other sides of him feels like an invitation for them to linger. She doesn't want that, doesn't want him beside her like this, alone and without a task to keep her distracted from that cutting smile, so might as well prod him enough that he leaves. Quicker than she'd like though, one of those sides she's trying not to look at catches her eye. So she stills a bit, reasoning that can keep her head, that she will. "That's all you get," she says instead, shrugging.
Just as she decides not to wield her blame at him like a weapon, he doubles down on that frustrating way of pressing right on the spot she's most sore, as equally skilled at that as he'd been at pushing pleasure. "Pretend?" she snorts. "Honey, what you took for an opossum is just an armadillo." One hand lifts to meet his bump with a smack on his arm, too light to mean much, but part of her is still prickling at the truth he's scratching at.
Chewing on her ire as they walk, he manages to set down something softer again, enough to earn a look that isn't shale. It subdues even further as an abrupt laugh peals from her, "that's the most absurd thing. Were you reading your sister's books again?" A smile lingers, stubborn. "There's no one waitin' at the end of the world for me except Mort." She'd promised that end to one guy once already, she'd not be making that mistake again. "And I don't make promises while drunk." Or in general, if she can help it. Word is worth something, but any kind of binding seems to beg to break when she feels it. A beat, and she's more solemn. "But... yeah. I'd stay, as long as I could. No sense dyin' over old wood and dirt, but worth fightin' for it for a bit at least." This kind of way of being seen, it doesn't rankle quite so bad. "You're the same way," she accuses with a glance and a subtle return of her smile. Maybe not for a ranch, but he'd go down swinging for his sisters.
I'm homesick for conversations I would avoid
And now I miss the sound of your voice
Now there's nothing but a shadow left
So I'll just keep on chasing shadows of you
And now I miss the sound of your voice
Now there's nothing but a shadow left
So I'll just keep on chasing shadows of you
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.
