COLT
I've been sleeping wide awake
Slow dancing 'round the cracks in the floorboards
Fighting myself while lying in a
Bed I made and can't ignore
Slow dancing 'round the cracks in the floorboards
Fighting myself while lying in a
Bed I made and can't ignore
This is what she's been desperately trying to bury beneath the layers of ash that are left behind each time they burn, this fragile version of herself where the past has sunk its teeth in so deep she's more than twice shy about the bite. She figured with enough depth to the charcoal maybe she'd finally lose sight of it. Hoped the heat might make a seal that sticks and keep it back, or even burn the seams of it into nothing once and for all. Ash blows away too easily though, the storm of breaths that come in between each of their blazes continually scattering it all. The truth is laid out too plainly now, even with all the residual smudges. For all of Vesper's toos, she's not lacking her own set. Too scared, too broken, too lost.
She might have put her husband in the ground, but he killed her well before then. She's fought to get back every piece of her that he took, the portions he carved out with each argument and placating avoidance of them, but there's some she still hasn't found. One of them is rather important, because it's the piece that lets her trust herself. She thought she had happiness, once. Real and lasting happiness. He showed her how wrong she'd been, and now she's positive she can't tell the difference.
Time had certainly sounded like an idea that could work, but all these years that have passed and here she still is, pacing the same path and expecting the route to change instead of her steps. Although, she's never had another person walking with her before, not in the dark like this. No one's supposed to be here in this depthless dusk except her and ghosts, but Vesper slipped in with all the shadows, almost unnoticeable. Almost.
She tilts a look back over her shoulder at him while ice settles into the glass. He's never been easy to trace the edges of, and this lowlight doesn't help, but it never seems to swallow him completely either. Night bends around him, framing him not as something that glows and beams, but rather something that glimmers with the absence of it all. Velvet folds that don't spark with light, but take it in and keep it secure and safe. "Dogs were plenty quiet before you showed up." The tease might be faint and soft, but it's there all the same, a flicker of life roused by his words and him staying here to say them. It's not the first time he's told her that he's just here for her, but tonight it sinks in through the haze with meaning. She always figured she needed to burn for him, but if he'd still sit with her in this void, maybe she'd find something other than fire and kerosene to use for once. "Ship life treating you fine otherwise?" she wonders, turning back to her cabinets. "I can't imagine it...sounds cramped and cold," her words come out staggered as she struggles to reach up for the rum, her fingertips brushing the bottle and pushing it further back, her grip fighting with the long sweater sleeve. With a bit of effort and a hop she claims the bottle. Cheap rum this time, but it won't be alone.
"I'm still waiting for the grand opening announcement of the Ark's bar," There's no bite or humor to it, just conversation, though she's not entirely convinced he'd meant it when he said it. After measuring out the lime juice and simple syrup in the glass, which includes a shrug at some point, suggesting she forgot the proper amount, she hands the whiskey sour over to him. Fancy by all accounts of her kitchen. "Thought I should pick up a trick or two before you came over again, make you less inclined to deliver wine," she explains, holding his gaze. It glints in the nearby lanternlight, the brightness drifting back and forth as the flame bows around the wick. Subtle constellations on his skin try to outshine his blue, but she rather thinks they add to it, like the competition makes him more brilliant.
She might have put her husband in the ground, but he killed her well before then. She's fought to get back every piece of her that he took, the portions he carved out with each argument and placating avoidance of them, but there's some she still hasn't found. One of them is rather important, because it's the piece that lets her trust herself. She thought she had happiness, once. Real and lasting happiness. He showed her how wrong she'd been, and now she's positive she can't tell the difference.
Time had certainly sounded like an idea that could work, but all these years that have passed and here she still is, pacing the same path and expecting the route to change instead of her steps. Although, she's never had another person walking with her before, not in the dark like this. No one's supposed to be here in this depthless dusk except her and ghosts, but Vesper slipped in with all the shadows, almost unnoticeable. Almost.
She tilts a look back over her shoulder at him while ice settles into the glass. He's never been easy to trace the edges of, and this lowlight doesn't help, but it never seems to swallow him completely either. Night bends around him, framing him not as something that glows and beams, but rather something that glimmers with the absence of it all. Velvet folds that don't spark with light, but take it in and keep it secure and safe. "Dogs were plenty quiet before you showed up." The tease might be faint and soft, but it's there all the same, a flicker of life roused by his words and him staying here to say them. It's not the first time he's told her that he's just here for her, but tonight it sinks in through the haze with meaning. She always figured she needed to burn for him, but if he'd still sit with her in this void, maybe she'd find something other than fire and kerosene to use for once. "Ship life treating you fine otherwise?" she wonders, turning back to her cabinets. "I can't imagine it...sounds cramped and cold," her words come out staggered as she struggles to reach up for the rum, her fingertips brushing the bottle and pushing it further back, her grip fighting with the long sweater sleeve. With a bit of effort and a hop she claims the bottle. Cheap rum this time, but it won't be alone.
"I'm still waiting for the grand opening announcement of the Ark's bar," There's no bite or humor to it, just conversation, though she's not entirely convinced he'd meant it when he said it. After measuring out the lime juice and simple syrup in the glass, which includes a shrug at some point, suggesting she forgot the proper amount, she hands the whiskey sour over to him. Fancy by all accounts of her kitchen. "Thought I should pick up a trick or two before you came over again, make you less inclined to deliver wine," she explains, holding his gaze. It glints in the nearby lanternlight, the brightness drifting back and forth as the flame bows around the wick. Subtle constellations on his skin try to outshine his blue, but she rather thinks they add to it, like the competition makes him more brilliant.
I'm tired of running from the conversations
Screaming in the silence, all alone
I'm frustrated, I can't take it
But I'll fake it, then I'll hate myself again
Screaming in the silence, all alone
I'm frustrated, I can't take it
But I'll fake it, then I'll hate myself again
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.
