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
For a half-second, the shadow of the librarian falls over the book she's reaching for, and she thinks it's Vesper. No, that's not quite right. She doesn't think, she does something far worse, she hopes it's him. Fuck, she wants it to be the extension of his darknesses, not even his hand, just some part of him reaching back out. She hesitates, blinking rapidly as her eyes threaten to blur when she recognizes the shifting light for what it is. She can't decide which is worse, erecting that false hope in the first place, or having it wither in the same instant.
She stays crouched for longer than needed, hands tightening around the book she reclaimed, strangling the pages until the binding creaks in complaint. It's only the hand of the librarian on her shoulder that breaks her from the distant stare burrowing into the ground, and she jumps beneath the feeling of the touch, almost falling forward before awkwardly rising into an unbalanced step. The librarian is saying something, likely not for the first time, Colt realizes, but she offers out a weak smile and the book. "Yeah, all good," she reassures, though the fae face that peers back at her is full of doubt.
She glances back towards the desk where she'd seen him, but he's gone. She should have left then. Could've gone back up the stairs with just her own foolish ideas and the silly image of him bending into a small space, left it at that, and this encounter would have been nothing more than a reminder that she needs to keep staying indoors at night. It's the absence of him that draws her in more though, like now she isn't certain she'd seen him at all, or can't believe that he'd be the one ready to chew his own leg off to get loose when he'd set the damn trap. Sensibility tells her that he'd just continued on with whatever he was doing, present but not fleeing. She wants to believe that, but as they say, trust but verify.
After asking about Vesper with the fae at the desk, she descends the same steps he had, sinking further into the murk. The confirmation that he'd been here is proof she hadn't imagined him, but the worker had griped about how Vesper had gone the wrong way, which brings her back to wondering why the fox is trying to run at all. Something stiffer than ice holds her upright now as she squints down into the lower library level, calling out low, but insistent. "Vesper." With the initial shock thawing, she bundles up the remainder of her soaked nerves and tries to do something better than choke on them. "Godsdamnit, Vesper!"
She stays crouched for longer than needed, hands tightening around the book she reclaimed, strangling the pages until the binding creaks in complaint. It's only the hand of the librarian on her shoulder that breaks her from the distant stare burrowing into the ground, and she jumps beneath the feeling of the touch, almost falling forward before awkwardly rising into an unbalanced step. The librarian is saying something, likely not for the first time, Colt realizes, but she offers out a weak smile and the book. "Yeah, all good," she reassures, though the fae face that peers back at her is full of doubt.
She glances back towards the desk where she'd seen him, but he's gone. She should have left then. Could've gone back up the stairs with just her own foolish ideas and the silly image of him bending into a small space, left it at that, and this encounter would have been nothing more than a reminder that she needs to keep staying indoors at night. It's the absence of him that draws her in more though, like now she isn't certain she'd seen him at all, or can't believe that he'd be the one ready to chew his own leg off to get loose when he'd set the damn trap. Sensibility tells her that he'd just continued on with whatever he was doing, present but not fleeing. She wants to believe that, but as they say, trust but verify.
After asking about Vesper with the fae at the desk, she descends the same steps he had, sinking further into the murk. The confirmation that he'd been here is proof she hadn't imagined him, but the worker had griped about how Vesper had gone the wrong way, which brings her back to wondering why the fox is trying to run at all. Something stiffer than ice holds her upright now as she squints down into the lower library level, calling out low, but insistent. "Vesper." With the initial shock thawing, she bundles up the remainder of her soaked nerves and tries to do something better than choke on them. "Godsdamnit, Vesper!"
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.
