COLT
I wish words were like little toy guns
No sting, no hurting no one
Just a bang, bang rolling off your tongue
No sting, no hurting no one
Just a bang, bang rolling off your tongue
A low tune whistles out as Colt bends down and rummages among the hedges, the sound at times drifting into a lazy hum. Somewhere nearby, a bay horse grazes, his lips working through the drier parts of the plant and shifting across the dirt like a brush, selecting only the most prime morsels. The ones that are shortest, and therefore sweetest.
Colt's got on a pair of old jeans, ones that are a bit frayed on the bottoms and stained in various places. One of the pockets has a clearly re-sewn stitch pattern, and across the knees the fabric has grown so thin a few sections have started to split into just the strands that hold each edge together. Her boots look just as weathered, no spurs today, and her hat has creases that won't come out and some sweat stains. It's stormy enough in the distance, clouds hung low and dark and wavy, that she's got her black duster coat on over her pale violet button-up shirt.
An assortment of gardening tools are scattered around her feet, a horse grooming bucket behind her serving as the original tote. She fights against some hungry weeds that have threaded into the roses, steadily hacking away at their base with a spade.
Colt's got on a pair of old jeans, ones that are a bit frayed on the bottoms and stained in various places. One of the pockets has a clearly re-sewn stitch pattern, and across the knees the fabric has grown so thin a few sections have started to split into just the strands that hold each edge together. Her boots look just as weathered, no spurs today, and her hat has creases that won't come out and some sweat stains. It's stormy enough in the distance, clouds hung low and dark and wavy, that she's got her black duster coat on over her pale violet button-up shirt.
An assortment of gardening tools are scattered around her feet, a horse grooming bucket behind her serving as the original tote. She fights against some hungry weeds that have threaded into the roses, steadily hacking away at their base with a spade.
No smoke, no bullets
No kick from the trigger when you pull it
No pain, no damage done
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.
