COLT
I wish words were like little toy guns
No sting, no hurting no one
Just a bang, bang rolling off your tongue
No sting, no hurting no one
Just a bang, bang rolling off your tongue
Not prone to idling away her time between pages, preferring to write her own story over reading the lived ones of others, Colt nonetheless curls through the Undercroft with a certain respect for the tomes gathered here. Her fingers skim spines in passing, trailing after the jump of her eyes as she scans the words and bindings for something in particular. She's on the hunt, in more ways than one, trying to find a particular book, All About Allogators.
She might have had better luck in the Hollowed Grounds' library, but she'd not wished to linger in that particular region for any longer than necessary. She'd contemplated passing by it entirely even, but had eventually sighed and grit her teeth through the trek, pointedly avoiding a prior path and even then, stood on the edge of the main city like walking any further might strip her of her senses once more. No longer trusting the realm of the Ancients is an understatement.
This library will surely have something though, so she continues on into the deeper levels, winding down the stairs with the faintest hum of a song in the back of her throat. Dressed for travel, not really here for anything other than their notice board and a chance to stretch the saddle out of her legs, Colt's wearing unremarkable boots and jeans. She's dustier than she realizes from all the heat-dried roads, and she'd kill for something breezier than this about now, but this isn't her first or last stop and she doesn't meant to linger long enough to justify a change. Her shirt is unbuttoned at the bottom and tied up above her naval, letting some heat escape where she can, and her hair is tied up in braided pigtails to keep the back of her neck free beneath the shelter of her hat.
She might have had better luck in the Hollowed Grounds' library, but she'd not wished to linger in that particular region for any longer than necessary. She'd contemplated passing by it entirely even, but had eventually sighed and grit her teeth through the trek, pointedly avoiding a prior path and even then, stood on the edge of the main city like walking any further might strip her of her senses once more. No longer trusting the realm of the Ancients is an understatement.
This library will surely have something though, so she continues on into the deeper levels, winding down the stairs with the faintest hum of a song in the back of her throat. Dressed for travel, not really here for anything other than their notice board and a chance to stretch the saddle out of her legs, Colt's wearing unremarkable boots and jeans. She's dustier than she realizes from all the heat-dried roads, and she'd kill for something breezier than this about now, but this isn't her first or last stop and she doesn't meant to linger long enough to justify a change. Her shirt is unbuttoned at the bottom and tied up above her naval, letting some heat escape where she can, and her hair is tied up in braided pigtails to keep the back of her neck free beneath the shelter of her hat.
No smoke, no bullets
No kick from the trigger when you pull it
No pain, no damage done
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.
