COLT
Usually, I ain't the type to stay up all damn night
Thinkin' 'bout someone else
It's hard to be fine when your heart's on the line
And the truth is I'm goin' through hell
Thinkin' 'bout someone else
It's hard to be fine when your heart's on the line
And the truth is I'm goin' through hell
She's too caught up in the idea of never-ending eyes to do anything but comply to his instruction, despite the fact that'd already been her intent. What he'd said earlier about tossing the wine on the meat, it's his bottle to do whatever he wants with, but she'd be remiss if she didn't at least try it since he brought it for them before getting their dinner drunk.
She sets the glasses down between them on the porch rail, turning the corkscrew into the top as she watches him start to gather an answer. The cork pulls free as he explains, and her 'brow furrows a bit as she sets the tool aside. "Okay—" she begins slowly, careful with the way she picks her words, wine held hostage in her hand as every bit of concentration goes to this idea that he grew and learned by watching the world instead of being in it. Nothing she feels any one way about except she hasn't lived it, so she can't quite get a hold of it in full.
"So, you watched everyone, but...you couldn't practice anything, right?" Her wandering eye flicks back to him, intent as it finds him within the gathering dusk where shadow and low light have become hard to separate. Despite him being hard to see, she feels it even now—especially now actually, with him offering more of himself than ever before, not that she's ever asked this much—the draw to him like gravity.
"How'd you learn to swim, or ride, or, or—" she trails off, clipping back that last thought, fuck me senseless. Maybe this is him learning how still, but gods, if he got any better at it she'd lose every scrap of civility she's managed to cling to around him. Hell, she'd had to leave him with a paint brush in hand just to prove to herself she still could.
She tilts her hip into the rail with a flush to her cheeks, grateful the descending night will cover it, and busies herself pouring their glasses. Much of her experiences in life have been failing until each mistake and dusted off pair of pants yield success, and with it an understanding of how to keep getting back up from the falls. He just, what, dropped down this good? Didn't have to nearly drown day after day in a pond, fighting reeds like they're river monsters? His riding...well honestly that does need work, so maybe there's a limit to the divine blood after all.
She sets the bottle down and and grabs her glass, turning it in hand as his response edges out cautiously. It's nothing direct, maybe he's under celestial NDA, but that feels like answer enough. Yes, is what sits between all his words, and she exhales heavy and silent, making space for that truth. Already a half-realized one, it doesn't deliver any new prickles to the patch of burrs where other things she dislikes have caught on her. It's already got one there, and it just wriggles in deeper. There's a lot in life that can't be changed, and liked or not, you've got to learn to live with it. She'll be sure to wave to the gods next time she's curling up at the bottom of her shower for a good cry.
His answer does give something else though. "Oh yeah?" she asks with one 'brow sketching up, sipping at the wine. Immediately, and without her consent, her nose scrunches up and one eye partly closes against the flavor. She sets the glass down with a shake of her head, tongue rolling against the roof of her mouth. "Like what?" she challenges, attention shifting back to him in full.
She sets the glasses down between them on the porch rail, turning the corkscrew into the top as she watches him start to gather an answer. The cork pulls free as he explains, and her 'brow furrows a bit as she sets the tool aside. "Okay—" she begins slowly, careful with the way she picks her words, wine held hostage in her hand as every bit of concentration goes to this idea that he grew and learned by watching the world instead of being in it. Nothing she feels any one way about except she hasn't lived it, so she can't quite get a hold of it in full.
"So, you watched everyone, but...you couldn't practice anything, right?" Her wandering eye flicks back to him, intent as it finds him within the gathering dusk where shadow and low light have become hard to separate. Despite him being hard to see, she feels it even now—especially now actually, with him offering more of himself than ever before, not that she's ever asked this much—the draw to him like gravity.
"How'd you learn to swim, or ride, or, or—" she trails off, clipping back that last thought, fuck me senseless. Maybe this is him learning how still, but gods, if he got any better at it she'd lose every scrap of civility she's managed to cling to around him. Hell, she'd had to leave him with a paint brush in hand just to prove to herself she still could.
She tilts her hip into the rail with a flush to her cheeks, grateful the descending night will cover it, and busies herself pouring their glasses. Much of her experiences in life have been failing until each mistake and dusted off pair of pants yield success, and with it an understanding of how to keep getting back up from the falls. He just, what, dropped down this good? Didn't have to nearly drown day after day in a pond, fighting reeds like they're river monsters? His riding...well honestly that does need work, so maybe there's a limit to the divine blood after all.
She sets the bottle down and and grabs her glass, turning it in hand as his response edges out cautiously. It's nothing direct, maybe he's under celestial NDA, but that feels like answer enough. Yes, is what sits between all his words, and she exhales heavy and silent, making space for that truth. Already a half-realized one, it doesn't deliver any new prickles to the patch of burrs where other things she dislikes have caught on her. It's already got one there, and it just wriggles in deeper. There's a lot in life that can't be changed, and liked or not, you've got to learn to live with it. She'll be sure to wave to the gods next time she's curling up at the bottom of her shower for a good cry.
His answer does give something else though. "Oh yeah?" she asks with one 'brow sketching up, sipping at the wine. Immediately, and without her consent, her nose scrunches up and one eye partly closes against the flavor. She sets the glass down with a shake of her head, tongue rolling against the roof of her mouth. "Like what?" she challenges, attention shifting back to him in full.
I keep it dark, I keep it quiet
But then you come around and light me up
Takin' up space like a hyphen
You're on my mind and I can't fight it
But then you come around and light me up
Takin' up space like a hyphen
You're on my mind and I can't fight it
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.
