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
He eases into the space between want and refusal like he belongs there, like he'll find whatever room she's left for him and call it enough. That's half the problem—how easy he makes it all. Given her proficiency for extremes, she's never really been able to agree with enough, so this supposedly selfish man managing to do so is a mystery. He's always been that way though—corners of him smudged with unknown, too blurry to fully see the shape in some regions. Selfishly, she wants to finally be able to trace all the edges of him.
She blinks, caught off guard again, unaccustomed to anyone sticking through the wreckage she tries to pass off as protection. She never usually gets here, because most don’t match her long enough to make it past the first night, let alone start to matter in ways that keep her up at night.
"That's how it always goes, one way or another," she says a bit cautiously to his question of hurt. Any relationship has a bit of blood. She's trying to avoid the cut, but just as equally she's trying to keep him whole too.
Much like a horse being shown something new and reacting without any measurement of calm, Colt is finally run ragged enough to think instead of just respond. So when he lays it all out like that, it doesn't quite sound like the grand scheme of survival she's carefully mapped out each night. "I was figuring blackout curtains and an earlier bed time," she admits with the faintest edge of her usual grin twisting into place at the corner of her mouth. She planned to sell the horse he helped her find, just to be rid of the reminder, and then block out the evenings like they aren't the best part of Longheat, by whatever means necessary. Perfectly manageable, so she'd thought.
The steady presence of his reason—his voice, his calm—previously a burr, is now something that soaks into her as the rain finally breaks. It's turning into something muddy now, but all the residue of what came before is drifting away. One of her hands rests against her hip as she shifts her weight, a deep sigh tumbling free as she settles her gaze back on the blue of him. "Well, I was expectin' you to leave," she says, gesturing loosely toward the stairs. Her hand drops limply back to her side, clapping against her leg with a sound that lands too sharp for all the quiet they’ve managed to arrange. She chews thoughtfully on an edge of her bottom lip again as she more quietly adds, "but you didn't." He would’ve, if she hadn't tugged him back. That sets in like a new concern for her to worry over, but it's distant enough that she doesn't feel the way it edges in among the rainfall.
"Ves, I—" the words snag. Her gaze tips to the side like maybe distance holds courage, and her hands lift to drag her hair over one shoulder. She searches for comfort as her fingers brush through it gradually.
Now what? She hasn't got a fucking clue. Everything she's ever done is practiced, something she's learned from someone else. Not that she's got no mind, but there's a routine to her life, one just sort of passed along to her and that she picked up like walking. He's come and upset everything completely, shown her a different trail, one with no markers.
She shakes her head, hands stilling against her collarbone, fingers still curled around gold. "Alright." It comes abrupt, a bit too loud, her own thunder to make sure it gets out before the wind tries to make it smaller. Her eyes flick back to his, something brighter returned. "I can try," she says gently, all the coiled parts of her starting to loosen. "Time." A ghost of a real smile pushes through. "Besides, I'm too keen on watching you buck someone off." There's still a deep seated fear that roils in her gut, but for the first time, Vesper's stronger than him.
She blinks, caught off guard again, unaccustomed to anyone sticking through the wreckage she tries to pass off as protection. She never usually gets here, because most don’t match her long enough to make it past the first night, let alone start to matter in ways that keep her up at night.
"That's how it always goes, one way or another," she says a bit cautiously to his question of hurt. Any relationship has a bit of blood. She's trying to avoid the cut, but just as equally she's trying to keep him whole too.
Much like a horse being shown something new and reacting without any measurement of calm, Colt is finally run ragged enough to think instead of just respond. So when he lays it all out like that, it doesn't quite sound like the grand scheme of survival she's carefully mapped out each night. "I was figuring blackout curtains and an earlier bed time," she admits with the faintest edge of her usual grin twisting into place at the corner of her mouth. She planned to sell the horse he helped her find, just to be rid of the reminder, and then block out the evenings like they aren't the best part of Longheat, by whatever means necessary. Perfectly manageable, so she'd thought.
The steady presence of his reason—his voice, his calm—previously a burr, is now something that soaks into her as the rain finally breaks. It's turning into something muddy now, but all the residue of what came before is drifting away. One of her hands rests against her hip as she shifts her weight, a deep sigh tumbling free as she settles her gaze back on the blue of him. "Well, I was expectin' you to leave," she says, gesturing loosely toward the stairs. Her hand drops limply back to her side, clapping against her leg with a sound that lands too sharp for all the quiet they’ve managed to arrange. She chews thoughtfully on an edge of her bottom lip again as she more quietly adds, "but you didn't." He would’ve, if she hadn't tugged him back. That sets in like a new concern for her to worry over, but it's distant enough that she doesn't feel the way it edges in among the rainfall.
"Ves, I—" the words snag. Her gaze tips to the side like maybe distance holds courage, and her hands lift to drag her hair over one shoulder. She searches for comfort as her fingers brush through it gradually.
Now what? She hasn't got a fucking clue. Everything she's ever done is practiced, something she's learned from someone else. Not that she's got no mind, but there's a routine to her life, one just sort of passed along to her and that she picked up like walking. He's come and upset everything completely, shown her a different trail, one with no markers.
She shakes her head, hands stilling against her collarbone, fingers still curled around gold. "Alright." It comes abrupt, a bit too loud, her own thunder to make sure it gets out before the wind tries to make it smaller. Her eyes flick back to his, something brighter returned. "I can try," she says gently, all the coiled parts of her starting to loosen. "Time." A ghost of a real smile pushes through. "Besides, I'm too keen on watching you buck someone off." There's still a deep seated fear that roils in her gut, but for the first time, Vesper's stronger than 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.
