COLT
You put my fire out each time I lit it
See your demons in the mirror and they keep grinning
Got my backbone back, four years you kept it hidden
See your demons in the mirror and they keep grinning
Got my backbone back, four years you kept it hidden
She doesn't have time to think, to worry or curse or manage anything but one more shovel of dirt into the base of the blaze. Once that's done, another one. Time is the one they're racing now, because every moment the fire isn't out, it's reaching for more, more, more. It skips, dancing on wind and over breaks of empty soil that seem like they should hold. The sheer heat of it sparks a neighbor though, populating every dry splinter of wood available.
She's been afraid of this all season. She is every leafchange when the storms roll in dry and electric, and the grasses shrivel like they mean to ignite. She'd run home from planting the damn flowers with everyone that day specifically to get back to work clearing out all the dead around her property line, and the storm that day had fortunately not struck here. The work's since been completed, but she can't empty the whole damn meadowlands any better than she can wield the wind. Sometimes you're just out of luck, no matter how hard you prepared.
She scours for signs of life amid the fire as the dirt sprays over it. Little by little the inferno is brought under control. Paler smoke curls up where it had been black, and the flames don't reach so high. Sunjata's efforts manage to fight it off the most, the heat simmering under his blankets of water, the fuel soaking through and resisting the bite of combustion. The ranch hands continue to spray hoses, dousing out the smaller bits or pre-soaking where the fire was headed to trap it. The shovel crew is working with her to ensure the embers are actually dead, and that all the little pockets of retreating fire are covered and snuffed out.
Gradually, the fire is extinguished.
What remains are charred skeletons of fences and her feed shed. Metal frames and bins have melted and warped in the heat into abstract shapes, and ash files like an apocalyptic rain where wind and smoke stir the remnants of destruction. All in all, it could have been worse, but it's not good.
Sweat beads up on her forehead and Colt wipes the back of her hand across it, smearing ash in a streak. She leans against the edge of her shovel near Sunjata, heaving out a weary breath as she surveys the charcoal of what was meant to feed her herds throughout deepfrost. "Sunjata..." There's nothing fragile in her voice. Nothing warm either, just the dry and hard edges of someone still focused. She'll stay that way for a while yet, scouring the grounds with the men for hours to double check and start to gather the ruin. She'll break later, when she's alone and the last bits of adrenaline's shell wear away and let the loss strike her in full. "Thank you, for you help. We'd have lost a lot more without you."
She's been afraid of this all season. She is every leafchange when the storms roll in dry and electric, and the grasses shrivel like they mean to ignite. She'd run home from planting the damn flowers with everyone that day specifically to get back to work clearing out all the dead around her property line, and the storm that day had fortunately not struck here. The work's since been completed, but she can't empty the whole damn meadowlands any better than she can wield the wind. Sometimes you're just out of luck, no matter how hard you prepared.
She scours for signs of life amid the fire as the dirt sprays over it. Little by little the inferno is brought under control. Paler smoke curls up where it had been black, and the flames don't reach so high. Sunjata's efforts manage to fight it off the most, the heat simmering under his blankets of water, the fuel soaking through and resisting the bite of combustion. The ranch hands continue to spray hoses, dousing out the smaller bits or pre-soaking where the fire was headed to trap it. The shovel crew is working with her to ensure the embers are actually dead, and that all the little pockets of retreating fire are covered and snuffed out.
Gradually, the fire is extinguished.
What remains are charred skeletons of fences and her feed shed. Metal frames and bins have melted and warped in the heat into abstract shapes, and ash files like an apocalyptic rain where wind and smoke stir the remnants of destruction. All in all, it could have been worse, but it's not good.
Sweat beads up on her forehead and Colt wipes the back of her hand across it, smearing ash in a streak. She leans against the edge of her shovel near Sunjata, heaving out a weary breath as she surveys the charcoal of what was meant to feed her herds throughout deepfrost. "Sunjata..." There's nothing fragile in her voice. Nothing warm either, just the dry and hard edges of someone still focused. She'll stay that way for a while yet, scouring the grounds with the men for hours to double check and start to gather the ruin. She'll break later, when she's alone and the last bits of adrenaline's shell wear away and let the loss strike her in full. "Thank you, for you help. We'd have lost a lot more without you."
Some things are meant to be, looks like we weren't
When I ran away from you my flame returned
Guess it's safe to say that now the bridge is burned
When I ran away from you my flame returned
Guess it's safe to say that now the bridge is burned
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.
