when rome's in ruins, we are the lions
She closes the distance again and he doesn’t give ground, but his chin lifts a fraction, the motion instinctive, as if a sliver of height might buy him the space he refuses to take with his feet. The air between them tightens anyway, her resolve pressing sharp and insistent, the echo of her hurt scraping along his nerves until restraint becomes something he has to actively maintain rather than simply inhabit.
As she accuses him of not trying, a laugh slips out before he can stop it, dry and brief and edged with a bitterness that surprises even him. It isn’t loud, isn’t cruel, but it carries anyway in the close, damp quiet of the Undercroft, and he bites down on it almost immediately, jaw tightening as the sound dies in the back of his throat. Blue eyes drop from her face, not in shame, but in a deliberate cooling, the warmth leeched out until what’s left is control.
He did try. Gods, he tried in ways she will never know, in ways he cannot explain without laying himself open in a manner that would only deepen the wound rather than close it. Every thought she throws at him now, every sharp-edged memory and half-buried hope, only confirms the truth he came to too late and paid for anyway.
"Nothin’ happened to it," he says at last, voice low, steadying itself as he speaks. "We crossed the whole damn desert." The words sit there, heavy with implication he refuses to unpack. His jaw feathers again and his gaze drifts, not quite able to hold hers now, settling instead on some indistinct point over her shoulder, on rock veined with old writing and water-dark stone that does not ask anything of him.
"I didn’t promise you anythin’ more than that, Colt."
As she accuses him of not trying, a laugh slips out before he can stop it, dry and brief and edged with a bitterness that surprises even him. It isn’t loud, isn’t cruel, but it carries anyway in the close, damp quiet of the Undercroft, and he bites down on it almost immediately, jaw tightening as the sound dies in the back of his throat. Blue eyes drop from her face, not in shame, but in a deliberate cooling, the warmth leeched out until what’s left is control.
He did try. Gods, he tried in ways she will never know, in ways he cannot explain without laying himself open in a manner that would only deepen the wound rather than close it. Every thought she throws at him now, every sharp-edged memory and half-buried hope, only confirms the truth he came to too late and paid for anyway.
"Nothin’ happened to it," he says at last, voice low, steadying itself as he speaks. "We crossed the whole damn desert." The words sit there, heavy with implication he refuses to unpack. His jaw feathers again and his gaze drifts, not quite able to hold hers now, settling instead on some indistinct point over her shoulder, on rock veined with old writing and water-dark stone that does not ask anything of him.
"I didn’t promise you anythin’ more than that, Colt."
free of the colosseums
☆ has a pale star tattoo beneath his left eye, and freckle-sized constellations move across his skin
☽ hair changes from bleached blonde to brown
☆ telepathic: Sunlit Shadows | The user can read the surface thoughts and emotions of those within a 60ft radius. Control is excellent. Note: "Thoughts and emotions" include anything written in a character's narration in a post.
☽ hair changes from bleached blonde to brown
☆ telepathic: Sunlit Shadows | The user can read the surface thoughts and emotions of those within a 60ft radius. Control is excellent. Note: "Thoughts and emotions" include anything written in a character's narration in a post.
