If movin' on had a scoreboard, It'd say
Sand falls between her fingers in a slow trickle, spilling out with the mild tilt she offers it. She watches it glitter free with a detached sort of curiosity, only seeming to realize after the fact when it has all run out and her hand is still poised over the shore. She blinks then, her hand falling back between her feet, palm pressing into the cool kiss of the beach for a moment before swiping up another handful of crushed starlight and repeating the process.
Her other hand hangs over the bend of her knees, limply holding the neck of her bottle of tequila. It's more full than not, but the slow tilt of it back to her lips suggests she means to see the bottom by the time she wears this night out. Clouds hang overhead with a threat of rain, but the sky's been tossing that same warning out all season and she's grown tired of shaping her day around the bluff of water.
She's barefoot, her boots and socks haphazardly cast aside nearby along with her chaps. She keeps her duster on though, some proof against the possible downpour, so it covers most of her shirt. Her jeans rise out of it though, legs loosely sprawled before her as she sits hunkered in the sand, leaning into the wind. The occasional breeze lifts just the tail of her hair up off her shoulder, where it flutters for a moment before falling.
Her other hand hangs over the bend of her knees, limply holding the neck of her bottle of tequila. It's more full than not, but the slow tilt of it back to her lips suggests she means to see the bottom by the time she wears this night out. Clouds hang overhead with a threat of rain, but the sky's been tossing that same warning out all season and she's grown tired of shaping her day around the bluff of water.
She's barefoot, her boots and socks haphazardly cast aside nearby along with her chaps. She keeps her duster on though, some proof against the possible downpour, so it covers most of her shirt. Her jeans rise out of it though, legs loosely sprawled before her as she sits hunkered in the sand, leaning into the wind. The occasional breeze lifts just the tail of her hair up off her shoulder, where it flutters for a moment before falling.
Colt
You and your memory, one, me and this bar, none
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.
