COLT
The lean away from her touch has her pulling her hand back quickly, the reality of overstepping this time too apparent to miss. Ah, well, maybe he'd prefer if Bassian do the final touch ups, risky as the outcome might be, at least it'd have familiarity.
"It'd hardly be for him if everyone can see it." Sly amusement colors her voice, a hint that she's already thought of what exactly she'd be showing off to him come the night of the party. Unfortunately for Jack he gets the sneak peek of it all, since he summoned the storm of Vesper to her mind, though it would have inevitably rolled in like it does every night on schedule with the stars, even with the cloud cover of bad weather working hard to hold them back tonight. There's a promised wall to sink against, a particular smile cutting through the low light with all the shape of her favorite, and the reemergence of fingertip bruising against her hip where the previous ones had begun to fade, the only mark from a man she'd still tolerate. It's all heat and something far too disorderly for her to label, but it glints with the same appeal as buried treasure, something hidden away with the assurance of riches greater than measurement.
She glances down at the work he's accomplished, more deft than her with the snip and slide of a blade. "Look at that," she breathes with surprised satisfaction, having half expected to appear like a sack of potatoes, which is perhaps exactly the kind of look Ludo prefers. "You could run your own tailor shop," she teases with all the intention of returning the seamstress title he'd granted her for some meager pinning and cutting.
She shrugs out of it and reaches for some needle and thread to set stitches in where the pins hold it, sinking into a chair and propping her feet up on another. "You look a lot like him, you know," she says after a moment, glancing up as she pulls one seam taut with a tug, its line messy. "Or I guess, he looks like you," her lips quirk into a slant, trying to find humor in her slip, but it's a hard reminder of his age, something that still nags at her when she lets it, a layer of grime settling in among the shining cache.
"It'd hardly be for him if everyone can see it." Sly amusement colors her voice, a hint that she's already thought of what exactly she'd be showing off to him come the night of the party. Unfortunately for Jack he gets the sneak peek of it all, since he summoned the storm of Vesper to her mind, though it would have inevitably rolled in like it does every night on schedule with the stars, even with the cloud cover of bad weather working hard to hold them back tonight. There's a promised wall to sink against, a particular smile cutting through the low light with all the shape of her favorite, and the reemergence of fingertip bruising against her hip where the previous ones had begun to fade, the only mark from a man she'd still tolerate. It's all heat and something far too disorderly for her to label, but it glints with the same appeal as buried treasure, something hidden away with the assurance of riches greater than measurement.
She glances down at the work he's accomplished, more deft than her with the snip and slide of a blade. "Look at that," she breathes with surprised satisfaction, having half expected to appear like a sack of potatoes, which is perhaps exactly the kind of look Ludo prefers. "You could run your own tailor shop," she teases with all the intention of returning the seamstress title he'd granted her for some meager pinning and cutting.
She shrugs out of it and reaches for some needle and thread to set stitches in where the pins hold it, sinking into a chair and propping her feet up on another. "You look a lot like him, you know," she says after a moment, glancing up as she pulls one seam taut with a tug, its line messy. "Or I guess, he looks like you," her lips quirk into a slant, trying to find humor in her slip, but it's a hard reminder of his age, something that still nags at her when she lets it, a layer of grime settling in among the shining cache.
If I go missing, don't bother looking, I'm probably just riding the wind
'Cause cowboys and sunsets, you can always count on them, but never to stay
I guess I'm a cowboy, 'cause there's a sunset on the way
'Cause cowboys and sunsets, you can always count on them, but never to stay
I guess I'm a cowboy, 'cause there's a sunset on the way
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.
