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
The next level opens up in pieces, a new one granted with each stair she takes. Her eyes drink in each new sliver of the space that's offered, but given that it's mostly just tree-rought building and books, fae flitting about, not much of it really registers. It's why, in part, she doesn't immediately clock him. The other part is the absurd way he's folded into a place clearly not meant for him, which has never seemed to be the case before, when instead he carried the tall confidence of being exactly where he ought to be, practically in ownership of the world so long as it's draped in shadow.
The stairs spend themselves out, only two having been left, and she takes one stride into the new area before the realization strikes true. The oddity of his tall figure is exactly what draws her attention back, and as it lands wholly on him, familiarity seeps in strong and sudden. Her low tune strangles out as breath snaps taut inside her chest, movement stuttering into a swaying halt with her next step clipped short. Ice blooms instantaneously through her, pinching in on her ribs with a sharp cold that presses in too tight to move around. Unlike the march of the goats, she hasn't prepared to see him, expected she might never again at this rate, so there's no fire stoked inside her.
Dozens of thoughts spill apart at once, the frost cracking open old seams effortlessly. There's a traitorous one that snags on the easy lines of his body, once so familiar to her she could still find certain dips or slopes without looking. There's a cruel one that suggests he's clearly doing far better than she is, reminding her that all the memorization of him had been for nothing. Then there's the strongest one, the one begging for survival, the one that's telling her to run. She's about to take a step back, but one of the librarians bustling by with an armful of books collides with her, shoving her forward with a scowl. "Move," they command, for she is still very much in the main entranceway.
Two of the books in the towering stack come free with the crash, thudding softly to the ground. The sound makes her blink hard, flinching, already poised to leap out of her skin, but it breaks some of the frost. The librarian sighs in exasperation, chastising her carelessness as she reaches to pick them up. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," Colt mutters, fumbling with apology and tries to reach down to assist.
The stairs spend themselves out, only two having been left, and she takes one stride into the new area before the realization strikes true. The oddity of his tall figure is exactly what draws her attention back, and as it lands wholly on him, familiarity seeps in strong and sudden. Her low tune strangles out as breath snaps taut inside her chest, movement stuttering into a swaying halt with her next step clipped short. Ice blooms instantaneously through her, pinching in on her ribs with a sharp cold that presses in too tight to move around. Unlike the march of the goats, she hasn't prepared to see him, expected she might never again at this rate, so there's no fire stoked inside her.
Dozens of thoughts spill apart at once, the frost cracking open old seams effortlessly. There's a traitorous one that snags on the easy lines of his body, once so familiar to her she could still find certain dips or slopes without looking. There's a cruel one that suggests he's clearly doing far better than she is, reminding her that all the memorization of him had been for nothing. Then there's the strongest one, the one begging for survival, the one that's telling her to run. She's about to take a step back, but one of the librarians bustling by with an armful of books collides with her, shoving her forward with a scowl. "Move," they command, for she is still very much in the main entranceway.
Two of the books in the towering stack come free with the crash, thudding softly to the ground. The sound makes her blink hard, flinching, already poised to leap out of her skin, but it breaks some of the frost. The librarian sighs in exasperation, chastising her carelessness as she reaches to pick them up. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," Colt mutters, fumbling with apology and tries to reach down to assist.
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.
