COLT
I used to shine bright like gold
Now I'm all indigo
My colors are darker and cold
Now I'm all indigo
My colors are darker and cold
Her head snaps back marginally, but with noticeable motion as he throws out her problem. Her jaw works once, gaze flicking sharp and stern to the side of her vision, the woods swallowing the full depth of her scowl while he goes on. She's still listening, each word another coal set into the fire of this rising outrage in her chest. "No," she says forcefully, trying to keep the one word level, the risk of it wavering too possible around the chokehold of emotion welling inside her. Her eyes flick back to him. "Your ugly side isn't because you're showing some feeling, Vesper." Her teeth nearly clip the sentence shorter than she means.
"It's because you're turning it around on me, on purpose, over bullshit." The words leave in a force of breath, nothing more than a cold sting on a crisp morning now, curling past her ribs with just an echo of warmth and all the shakiness of a body searching for it. Gods, the look of him now, it's almost unrecognizable. The way he's holding her with such contempt, it's enough to hollow out her bones. How incredibly, fucking stupid she'd been to think this would end any different, that he could be different.
A frown is her only response to the facade of a question, clearly not knowing how it is to be channeled. The rest though, that rattles her with the slap of resentment she hears. She has to glance away from him again to keep the hot prickle in the corners of her eyes back. The next inhale trembles, traitorous as hell, and she hates it. The last thing she wants is to give him any satisfaction that this is working, that he's managing to wound her just like he wants. "A letter?" Her tone is far too small when she rouses it, blown over by the shock, but she doesn't let it happen again. She leans into the quiet rage she's working up about herself over all this and uses it. "Next time I'll save myself the trip and mail you a fucking gift basket, how's that?" She doesn't bother to point out there won't need to be a next time, clearly.
As for his idea of how grand it all was on her end, she flings every stupid truth at him just to let the burn of the shame she feels about it now ignite something for her. "Yeah, I fell asleep, after I wore myself out crying over you, Vesper! What a fucking waste. That was the least satisfying thing imaginable because I missed you so much that seeing you for just six seconds made it all worse," she snaps, color burning in her cheeks with the humiliation of caring now after all of this.
Glad to know she'd been right about something at least—that Thalassa is what first got under his skin—it does little to improve anything though.
A scoff leaves her, hot and furious on little more than a breath, the burn of the disbelief enough to leave ash on her tongue where it passes. "She didn't tell me shit," she spits out, lips pulled thin, every word shot like a snapped wire. "All she said was you weren't someone that could be depended on, and I said that didn't sound like you." The furious burn of her gaze is left to sear the space between them for just a moment before one of her arms comes sweeping out in dramatic gesture. "So am I supposed to come runnin', askin' you about every person you don't get along with Vesper? Should I give you a list of every tiff I've been in too so we're square and I get to tell you my side of every shitty story out there?"
The hand that's been talking thuds down on her leg with the finality of that absurd offer, inhaling strong and sudden through the ridiculous frustration. "You also could have just fucking told me the story, if you're so concerned," she points out, head tilting as her arms fold back in against her chest. If he's so fucking worried about Thalassa, he could have come to her about it instead of waiting to throw it back in her face like some gotcha, but seems he needed the ammunition. She shakes her head, the movement the only thing that tempers a sour laugh into submission. "You're fucking unbelievable right now."
"It's because you're turning it around on me, on purpose, over bullshit." The words leave in a force of breath, nothing more than a cold sting on a crisp morning now, curling past her ribs with just an echo of warmth and all the shakiness of a body searching for it. Gods, the look of him now, it's almost unrecognizable. The way he's holding her with such contempt, it's enough to hollow out her bones. How incredibly, fucking stupid she'd been to think this would end any different, that he could be different.
A frown is her only response to the facade of a question, clearly not knowing how it is to be channeled. The rest though, that rattles her with the slap of resentment she hears. She has to glance away from him again to keep the hot prickle in the corners of her eyes back. The next inhale trembles, traitorous as hell, and she hates it. The last thing she wants is to give him any satisfaction that this is working, that he's managing to wound her just like he wants. "A letter?" Her tone is far too small when she rouses it, blown over by the shock, but she doesn't let it happen again. She leans into the quiet rage she's working up about herself over all this and uses it. "Next time I'll save myself the trip and mail you a fucking gift basket, how's that?" She doesn't bother to point out there won't need to be a next time, clearly.
As for his idea of how grand it all was on her end, she flings every stupid truth at him just to let the burn of the shame she feels about it now ignite something for her. "Yeah, I fell asleep, after I wore myself out crying over you, Vesper! What a fucking waste. That was the least satisfying thing imaginable because I missed you so much that seeing you for just six seconds made it all worse," she snaps, color burning in her cheeks with the humiliation of caring now after all of this.
Glad to know she'd been right about something at least—that Thalassa is what first got under his skin—it does little to improve anything though.
A scoff leaves her, hot and furious on little more than a breath, the burn of the disbelief enough to leave ash on her tongue where it passes. "She didn't tell me shit," she spits out, lips pulled thin, every word shot like a snapped wire. "All she said was you weren't someone that could be depended on, and I said that didn't sound like you." The furious burn of her gaze is left to sear the space between them for just a moment before one of her arms comes sweeping out in dramatic gesture. "So am I supposed to come runnin', askin' you about every person you don't get along with Vesper? Should I give you a list of every tiff I've been in too so we're square and I get to tell you my side of every shitty story out there?"
The hand that's been talking thuds down on her leg with the finality of that absurd offer, inhaling strong and sudden through the ridiculous frustration. "You also could have just fucking told me the story, if you're so concerned," she points out, head tilting as her arms fold back in against her chest. If he's so fucking worried about Thalassa, he could have come to her about it instead of waiting to throw it back in her face like some gotcha, but seems he needed the ammunition. She shakes her head, the movement the only thing that tempers a sour laugh into submission. "You're fucking unbelievable right now."
I gave up a piece of my heart
Then I turned to run
My head's in the clouds
But I don't feel close to the sun
Then I turned to run
My head's in the clouds
But I don't feel close to the sun
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.
