COLT
She's a heartbreak coming in cold
Trainwreck in a red dress
Trainwreck in a red dress
The Frey she is familiar with tends to come on the stir of wind, the sparkle of the water at the shrine, the billow of the flame in the candles. This one seems to come from all the spaces between those, dragging in a heat that makes all the sunlight seem laughable in comparison. It blooms reckless in Colt, and as she rises to her feet, her gaze flashes hungrily over Frey's frame, aching familiar with so much of Vesper put into it.
She knew about this effect, hadn't needed Sunjata to warn her of it, but it's one thing to think you know, and another to actually learn it. Colt presses her eyes shut like some shield she can gather up against this tide of want, suddenly not glad at all for Sunjata's lingering presence.
Frey's voice is like a knife cutting through the wildness though, and Colt is used to wanting something she doesn't get to have, so she eventually blinks the image of almost Vesper holding a puppy back into view. The question posed surprises her. She glances between the puppy and the vegetable, not quite certain the weight of picking either, and feeling a bit like someone trying to analyze her dreams with a cup of tea leaves.
Colt shrugs her shoulders a bit, because both options sound fine, and similar in certain ways, so if she has to pick—she definitely prefers dogs over healthy food. "The puppy," she tells Vrey, a certainty to it as she pockets her thumb in her belt loops.
She knew about this effect, hadn't needed Sunjata to warn her of it, but it's one thing to think you know, and another to actually learn it. Colt presses her eyes shut like some shield she can gather up against this tide of want, suddenly not glad at all for Sunjata's lingering presence.
Frey's voice is like a knife cutting through the wildness though, and Colt is used to wanting something she doesn't get to have, so she eventually blinks the image of almost Vesper holding a puppy back into view. The question posed surprises her. She glances between the puppy and the vegetable, not quite certain the weight of picking either, and feeling a bit like someone trying to analyze her dreams with a cup of tea leaves.
Colt shrugs her shoulders a bit, because both options sound fine, and similar in certain ways, so if she has to pick—she definitely prefers dogs over healthy food. "The puppy," she tells Vrey, a certainty to it as she pockets her thumb in her belt loops.
She's a neon nightmare
Lookin' for a tab to put some trouble on ice
Lookin' for a tab to put some trouble on ice
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.
