Tryin' to stay between the lines of who I am and who I used to be
In her experience, nothing with mud this season is ever truly over, but in her current state she’s also already thinking about things, like whether or not she could curl up on the ground right now, or if she could arrange their chairs for a better bed. She doesn’t quite slump into either option though, not with the peppering of conversation and the occasional stomp she delivers to a patch of mud that threatens to squirm still (imagined or otherwise).
”No,” she insists with a suddenly grave shake of her head, gaze pitching to him with mild concern. ”They do not not have blowholes. It’s a hotel for people, not whales.” Whether he’s landed on the correct name or not is hard to say, but she does heed his motion to follow. That’s mainly because she’s suddenly ducking from a kamikaze mud assault that has her hurrying after him with a yell. Good thing she’s already mid-duck too, because his sword swings out like the perfect mud fly-swatter. Far too bird-like for her tastes, she staggers away from the further risk, leaving its decimation to the man and dragon.
She keeps walking the way Zavien had started, knowing he’d catch up. It’s not a quick stroll back to her hotel, not with repeated mud monsters making an appearance in varying sizes and ominous wriggles. Some seem like they mean to blend into the alleys, as shady as anything else in the Silk Houses, but Sol seems particularly keen on flushing those ones out and torching them. The more obvious ones that lurch towards them, Zavien fends off in grand, sweeping displays of swordplay and starlit heat, beating the semi-conscious blobs back into an inert state of dirt that’ll still require cleaning efforts later. A body disposal team of brooms and hoses, most likely.
A few times Colt fights back against the sieges with the only things she has on her, and the wherewithal to use them, which is her feet and fists. It’s a sorry attempt to squish and brawl with mud, but it’s a start until Sol or Zavien come in with better equipment and coordination. ”Thanks,” she murmurs after punting a little mud-gremlin right into Zavien’s blade. All in all, she arrives to her hotel filthy and thoroughly ready for that nap. The comfort of the ribs he offered and the protective escort enough to ensure her sleep into nothing will be a fitless one indeed. Might even avoid thinking about the stars for a change. She doesn’t have the energy to shower first, but good thing it’s a hotel bed she crawls into.
[FIN]
”No,” she insists with a suddenly grave shake of her head, gaze pitching to him with mild concern. ”They do not not have blowholes. It’s a hotel for people, not whales.” Whether he’s landed on the correct name or not is hard to say, but she does heed his motion to follow. That’s mainly because she’s suddenly ducking from a kamikaze mud assault that has her hurrying after him with a yell. Good thing she’s already mid-duck too, because his sword swings out like the perfect mud fly-swatter. Far too bird-like for her tastes, she staggers away from the further risk, leaving its decimation to the man and dragon.
She keeps walking the way Zavien had started, knowing he’d catch up. It’s not a quick stroll back to her hotel, not with repeated mud monsters making an appearance in varying sizes and ominous wriggles. Some seem like they mean to blend into the alleys, as shady as anything else in the Silk Houses, but Sol seems particularly keen on flushing those ones out and torching them. The more obvious ones that lurch towards them, Zavien fends off in grand, sweeping displays of swordplay and starlit heat, beating the semi-conscious blobs back into an inert state of dirt that’ll still require cleaning efforts later. A body disposal team of brooms and hoses, most likely.
A few times Colt fights back against the sieges with the only things she has on her, and the wherewithal to use them, which is her feet and fists. It’s a sorry attempt to squish and brawl with mud, but it’s a start until Sol or Zavien come in with better equipment and coordination. ”Thanks,” she murmurs after punting a little mud-gremlin right into Zavien’s blade. All in all, she arrives to her hotel filthy and thoroughly ready for that nap. The comfort of the ribs he offered and the protective escort enough to ensure her sleep into nothing will be a fitless one indeed. Might even avoid thinking about the stars for a change. She doesn’t have the energy to shower first, but good thing it’s a hotel bed she crawls into.
[FIN]
Colt
I been livin', I been losin', findin' out that I can't run from me
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.
