COLT
Well life's got a lot of sticks and stones
And a blade that'll cut you to the bone
But if you're doing what you love and it kills you
Well, you can live with that all day long
And a blade that'll cut you to the bone
But if you're doing what you love and it kills you
Well, you can live with that all day long
Having retrieved her sorry horse and all the belongings there, their trip to the fountain was no enjoyable one. In fact they walked in silence for large parts of it, Colt just doing her best to avoid bitching and moaning the whole way, although a few choice curses and groans certainly made an appearance. The horse had also needed a drink, and then after she left the mare with an Attuned in town, because the fountain wouldn't fix all the psychic damage Biscuit took today. Colt likes that horse, but she doesn't have the time to work her back from all this trauma, and certainly not in a day to ride her home, so she'd be here for a while where someone who could reach her mentally could massage her back whole. Cost a pretty penny, which she's also sour about, on top of her busted saddle, but she'll make do.
She's still limping as she enters the bar behind Thalassa, although it's not from her injuries any longer. Instead she heaves her broken tack onto the ground, and her assortment of goods, though she keeps the valuables on her like her coin and her bow and arrows. "What a fucking day," she mutters, shifting the quiver on her back with a roll of her shoulders as she slides up to the bar top, practically melting onto it. "Double blanco, and keep it comin'," she says with a tap of her fingers on the counter.
She leans onto the fold of her arm over the bar, forehead pressing against her hand for a moment, fingers rubbing at her temples. The shock of the whole event has faded, but the headache of it all has not. That's what the tequila's for. Her gaze lifts as she hears the shot glass click down beside her, and with little ceremony she lifts it up with a nod to Thalassa and then throws it back, exhaling heat as she sets it back down firmly. "So what exactly, did you mean by that bastard?" Colt's gaze rises to the blue of Thalassa's, a 'brow arching in expectation.
She's still limping as she enters the bar behind Thalassa, although it's not from her injuries any longer. Instead she heaves her broken tack onto the ground, and her assortment of goods, though she keeps the valuables on her like her coin and her bow and arrows. "What a fucking day," she mutters, shifting the quiver on her back with a roll of her shoulders as she slides up to the bar top, practically melting onto it. "Double blanco, and keep it comin'," she says with a tap of her fingers on the counter.
She leans onto the fold of her arm over the bar, forehead pressing against her hand for a moment, fingers rubbing at her temples. The shock of the whole event has faded, but the headache of it all has not. That's what the tequila's for. Her gaze lifts as she hears the shot glass click down beside her, and with little ceremony she lifts it up with a nod to Thalassa and then throws it back, exhaling heat as she sets it back down firmly. "So what exactly, did you mean by that bastard?" Colt's gaze rises to the blue of Thalassa's, a 'brow arching in expectation.
So, if you got a fire, don't lose it
If you got a do-or-die dream, do it
If you got somethin' to prove, go on and prove it
If it's in your blood, fallin' down ain't enough
Gettin' back up, that's the only backup plan you need
If you got a do-or-die dream, do it
If you got somethin' to prove, go on and prove it
If it's in your blood, fallin' down ain't enough
Gettin' back up, that's the only backup plan you need
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.
