Colt
I know it's a drag, I know it's a grind
I know that a dollar ain't worth a dime
I know you get tired, I know you get down
I know you get sick of this soul-sucking town
I know that a dollar ain't worth a dime
I know you get tired, I know you get down
I know you get sick of this soul-sucking town
He doesn't respond, but she doesn't need him to. He can handle himself, all his monster hunting tales are proof enough of that, but she's seen it herself too. It'd been there with his sharp scrutiny when they'd wandered the vicious jungles, and present in his unyielding strength when he'd carried her through hak etme. Even the steady certainty of every task he'd done for her sake, each one carried easily in his capable hands.
Her arrow grazes the unicorn's leg instead, alerting them. She sees the jaguar instead of the man now at her side as she reaches back for another arrow, just as stunning as she remembers. Working against time, she sets another arrow, aiming well above him and towards the oncoming pair of void monstrosities. His growl rumbles low and long, vibrating through her with a primal response that screams death into every nerve.
Steadying the tremble of her hand with a breath, another sharpened arrow flies, carrying the sound of his warning as it lands into the side of the larger beast's neck. The hit, or his call, slows the pace of that one for a moment. Colt moves as quickly as she can, falling to a rhythm: grab an arrow, nock it, take aim, exhale, release. The next two sink into the large one's chest, his pace is a crawl now, then finally he sinks down to his knees, red stark on the dark of his nose.
The smaller one has not been intimidated or struck, so it surges ahead with a full gallop. It angles its horn low, jousting towards the shape of Vesper on the hill.
Her arrow grazes the unicorn's leg instead, alerting them. She sees the jaguar instead of the man now at her side as she reaches back for another arrow, just as stunning as she remembers. Working against time, she sets another arrow, aiming well above him and towards the oncoming pair of void monstrosities. His growl rumbles low and long, vibrating through her with a primal response that screams death into every nerve.
Steadying the tremble of her hand with a breath, another sharpened arrow flies, carrying the sound of his warning as it lands into the side of the larger beast's neck. The hit, or his call, slows the pace of that one for a moment. Colt moves as quickly as she can, falling to a rhythm: grab an arrow, nock it, take aim, exhale, release. The next two sink into the large one's chest, his pace is a crawl now, then finally he sinks down to his knees, red stark on the dark of his nose.
The smaller one has not been intimidated or struck, so it surges ahead with a full gallop. It angles its horn low, jousting towards the shape of Vesper on the hill.
Let's make a little lemonade if lemons is all we got
Sunset's like a tangerine, let's find a road we've never seen
Don't waste another mile or a minute not kissin' me
Life is short, make it sweet
Sunset's like a tangerine, let's find a road we've never seen
Don't waste another mile or a minute not kissin' me
Life is short, make it sweet
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.
