COLT
You put the cool in the breeze
You put the weak here in my knees
You put me right where I'm supposed to be
In your blue-eyed sea, and I wanna sail away
You put the weak here in my knees
You put me right where I'm supposed to be
In your blue-eyed sea, and I wanna sail away
She'd laid out the dress the night they'd made the plans. She'd wake up to it each day draped in the corner of her room, a quiet reminder of reality to keep her from thinking it merely one of her lingering dreams. It'd been easier ever since—sleeping, existing. She still sees reminders of him in places she doesn't expect, but they doesn't threaten to overtake her like they once did, because now they're not the last of him she'll get. They're glances of more to come that she tucks away into her thoughts with a smile, like a dress hanging up with a day to wear it.
It's black as a winter night, cut deep and open at the chest, with straps that hug her lower shoulders more for look than function. A high slit traces the length of her thigh with the sort of boldness she usually keeps in her grin, while the hem in back spills down into a short train, trailing her like twilight does the sun. Her hair has been partially pulled up, leaving a splash of gold down the open line of her spine, the rest wrangled with bobby pins and carefully arranged into pleats. A dusting of makeup frames her eyes with dark edges, and puts a red sheen to her lips. Diamonds dangle from her ears and drip against her throat in a delicate chain, catching any scrap of light like water over polished stone. A silver charm bracelet circles her wrist, jingling for her with the absence of her spurs, and a ring or two winks from her fingers whenever her hands shift or speak for her. Matte black heels tie everything together, adding a sharper tilt to her hips, even if they leave her moving with a slower, more deliberate stride than her well-worn boots.
Every girl needs a little black dress. They especially need a reason to put it on.
She retreats from the edge of the ship when it docks, quietly pressing a hand to the back of an older man as they step off together. With the distraction of getting ready gone, she made a point to find someone to talk to on the trip, not trusting the time alone where thoughts would have gathered worry like a bucket does rain. She watches the slow retreat of the man before flicking her gaze over the platform. She finds Vesper immediately, propped up against the railing like the devil dressed in Sunday best. The way he waits for her, steady and expectant, knots her heart up in the best kind of way.
He's always been too damn handsome for her own good, made of lean lines and dusk-soft edges, sprawled with the easy-boned grace of someone who always looks like nothing in the world can hurry him along, like he's as inevitable as nightfall—for her, he is. She closes the distance between them, stopping just shy of brushing against him, gaze dropping to the wildflower spinning in his fingers before traveling to his face. Nothing could keep back the smile that starts to break out. "Well now, if it ain't the best thing I’ve seen all week."
It's black as a winter night, cut deep and open at the chest, with straps that hug her lower shoulders more for look than function. A high slit traces the length of her thigh with the sort of boldness she usually keeps in her grin, while the hem in back spills down into a short train, trailing her like twilight does the sun. Her hair has been partially pulled up, leaving a splash of gold down the open line of her spine, the rest wrangled with bobby pins and carefully arranged into pleats. A dusting of makeup frames her eyes with dark edges, and puts a red sheen to her lips. Diamonds dangle from her ears and drip against her throat in a delicate chain, catching any scrap of light like water over polished stone. A silver charm bracelet circles her wrist, jingling for her with the absence of her spurs, and a ring or two winks from her fingers whenever her hands shift or speak for her. Matte black heels tie everything together, adding a sharper tilt to her hips, even if they leave her moving with a slower, more deliberate stride than her well-worn boots.
Every girl needs a little black dress. They especially need a reason to put it on.
She retreats from the edge of the ship when it docks, quietly pressing a hand to the back of an older man as they step off together. With the distraction of getting ready gone, she made a point to find someone to talk to on the trip, not trusting the time alone where thoughts would have gathered worry like a bucket does rain. She watches the slow retreat of the man before flicking her gaze over the platform. She finds Vesper immediately, propped up against the railing like the devil dressed in Sunday best. The way he waits for her, steady and expectant, knots her heart up in the best kind of way.
He's always been too damn handsome for her own good, made of lean lines and dusk-soft edges, sprawled with the easy-boned grace of someone who always looks like nothing in the world can hurry him along, like he's as inevitable as nightfall—for her, he is. She closes the distance between them, stopping just shy of brushing against him, gaze dropping to the wildflower spinning in his fingers before traveling to his face. Nothing could keep back the smile that starts to break out. "Well now, if it ain't the best thing I’ve seen all week."
You knock me out kiss by kiss
I need you baby, sip by sip
Sit back and let me drink you in
I'm fallin' for you, over and over and over again
I need you baby, sip by sip
Sit back and let me drink you in
I'm fallin' for you, over and over and over again
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.
