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
She’s so steeled for his departure that anything else barely registers. So when he closes the gap between them she's utterly immobile, devoid of thought or reaction, initially. Her face is pliant in his hands, tilting as he bids, softening against the kiss he presses into her—slow and final, the worst farewell. It steals every bit of air she's got, leaving her a touch dizzy as she sucks in a breath after the inevitable break of it.
It brings her back to the beach they embraced like salvation, so weary and worn that everything felt funny, easy, warm. Gods, she'd been so happy then, and it'd been him. The way he'd lounged in the waves like they were a hammock built for him. The way he'd been power and midnight beneath her. The way he'd just been there, steady and capable, like they could manage it—life.
That's just it though. It shouldn't be so easy, so simple. It can't be. Something must be wrong, something must be about to shatter and hurt. It did the last time.
Her eyes flick across his face, sharp with fear as she searches there for something she once knew. He starts to drift, to turn, to go, leaving her with just the echo of him shuddering through her, and the residue of his words that stain the edges of her thoughts like Tennessee whiskey carelessly knocked over.
Whatever fire he didn't mean for, there's a heat that settles all the same, sparking against all the dry brush and bramble she's let flourish. It catches into a blaze that flares up, hot and angry. "What the fuck—Vesper!" She seethes, half a mind to rip off her boot and chuck it at the back of his damn head. Instead she grabs for his arm, fingers tight. "You can't just—" she's flustered, thoughts and actions all spinning wildly in different directions, neither one exactly in charge at the moment. "You can't!" It's all she can seem to agree on with herself.
She should let him go. She should let it end, with this, a fine enough goodbye as any. She'd get what she wanted, and the warmth of him, the memory of him, it'd fade with time, all good things do. She should—"you can’t just do that, say that, mean that, and then walk away." she finally manages with a huff, her other hand curling up in a fist that lands weightless against his chest. He can't just sneak back in right at the end and make her miss him.
It brings her back to the beach they embraced like salvation, so weary and worn that everything felt funny, easy, warm. Gods, she'd been so happy then, and it'd been him. The way he'd lounged in the waves like they were a hammock built for him. The way he'd been power and midnight beneath her. The way he'd just been there, steady and capable, like they could manage it—life.
That's just it though. It shouldn't be so easy, so simple. It can't be. Something must be wrong, something must be about to shatter and hurt. It did the last time.
Her eyes flick across his face, sharp with fear as she searches there for something she once knew. He starts to drift, to turn, to go, leaving her with just the echo of him shuddering through her, and the residue of his words that stain the edges of her thoughts like Tennessee whiskey carelessly knocked over.
Whatever fire he didn't mean for, there's a heat that settles all the same, sparking against all the dry brush and bramble she's let flourish. It catches into a blaze that flares up, hot and angry. "What the fuck—Vesper!" She seethes, half a mind to rip off her boot and chuck it at the back of his damn head. Instead she grabs for his arm, fingers tight. "You can't just—" she's flustered, thoughts and actions all spinning wildly in different directions, neither one exactly in charge at the moment. "You can't!" It's all she can seem to agree on with herself.
She should let him go. She should let it end, with this, a fine enough goodbye as any. She'd get what she wanted, and the warmth of him, the memory of him, it'd fade with time, all good things do. She should—"you can’t just do that, say that, mean that, and then walk away." she finally manages with a huff, her other hand curling up in a fist that lands weightless against his chest. He can't just sneak back in right at the end and make her miss him.
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.
