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
Well, maybe not completely normal Vesper. Not the version that first ran up to her, but not the one that strolls up like noon on a Sunday, all lazy and unexpected, after you've been comfortable laying in bed the whole morning doing absolutely nothing. That she’s the one who’s changed—that all her effort might actually be working—doesn’t even cross her mind. Not when it still feels like she can't even look at him straight or else she'll forget what breathing is, nothing other than a doe-eyed fool.
So when he starts to get hollow, when he glances back like something's tugging him from her side, she doesn't tighten her grip. It blows through her like wind across a canyon, a little bit more getting carved away. He's handing her exactly what she asked for, right? This is what she wanted, right?
Yeah.
She's made too much habit out of walking away to just quit it now, so the muscle memory kicks in, smoothing the confusion starting to bloom on her face, turning it into simple acknowledgement. It tucks away that little part of her that wonders why he bothered to come up to her if it was just to say nevermind, making it a quiet nod, like his excuse makes the most sense in the world. It'll protect her, the distance, the silence. It has managed to keep her safe all these years, fulfilling the promise she made to herself not to get hurt again.
"Sure," she says with a glance back towards the way they'd come, stopping like she intends to watch him go. "Oh," she says suddenly, a request for his patience, a moment longer. She bends down, pulling something a small package of peppermint sticks from between her pantleg and left boot. She offers it to him like she's dealing a card, though she's not really the gambling type. "Since I owed you," she murmurs, meaning the day she took his last one, the day he'd startled her enough to start seeping in through the cracks. She doesn't tell him she saw them at a shop and got them because they made her think of him. Doesn't say that she likes the way the smell of them has started to linger in her house, filling it up with a little bit of him. Doesn't say she's been carrying them around in her boot every day, hoping she'd run into him, looking for him on the horizon like she expected to see him stroll up. Doesn't say anything other than her debt's been paid, because she can't let the rest through, or else it'll let him in.
So when he starts to get hollow, when he glances back like something's tugging him from her side, she doesn't tighten her grip. It blows through her like wind across a canyon, a little bit more getting carved away. He's handing her exactly what she asked for, right? This is what she wanted, right?
Yeah.
She's made too much habit out of walking away to just quit it now, so the muscle memory kicks in, smoothing the confusion starting to bloom on her face, turning it into simple acknowledgement. It tucks away that little part of her that wonders why he bothered to come up to her if it was just to say nevermind, making it a quiet nod, like his excuse makes the most sense in the world. It'll protect her, the distance, the silence. It has managed to keep her safe all these years, fulfilling the promise she made to herself not to get hurt again.
"Sure," she says with a glance back towards the way they'd come, stopping like she intends to watch him go. "Oh," she says suddenly, a request for his patience, a moment longer. She bends down, pulling something a small package of peppermint sticks from between her pantleg and left boot. She offers it to him like she's dealing a card, though she's not really the gambling type. "Since I owed you," she murmurs, meaning the day she took his last one, the day he'd startled her enough to start seeping in through the cracks. She doesn't tell him she saw them at a shop and got them because they made her think of him. Doesn't say that she likes the way the smell of them has started to linger in her house, filling it up with a little bit of him. Doesn't say she's been carrying them around in her boot every day, hoping she'd run into him, looking for him on the horizon like she expected to see him stroll up. Doesn't say anything other than her debt's been paid, because she can't let the rest through, or else it'll let him in.
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.
