In the soft hands of six shots, offering to cut her hair sounds like a brilliant idea. Certainly a far better alternative than breaking her legs, because apparently doing neither is not on the table. Definitely not if she intends to prove to Thal she can handle her shit, which obstinately, she does. Colt isn’t prone to backing off her word or passing up on a challenge (so long as her favorite boots and riding legs are intact thank you), so she doesn’t balk at the devious glint that takes over Thal.
The blade Thal pulls free matches her smile with such precision that Colt has one brief flash of worry that she’s just offered up her neck instead of her scalp to this woman. How many barbering accidents are there in a year—Sweney Todd would say many. Her chin tilts, the motion of confidence lost as she’s abruptly yanked to the side, leashed by her choice as much as her hair now. The first bundle of gold falls with a muted crunch of hair splitting over metal, and Colt gasps to see it in such large bundles.
Fuck. What has she done?
By the time it’s over, looking a bit like Cynthia from the Rugrats, Colt has become stock still. No undue movement to make it worse, sure, but also a necessity to keep from bursting into tears, which very nearly happened at one point as she drew in a shaky breath and instead pinched her eyes shut and dissociated.
Turning, the movement oddly light, her head still prickling with absence and new awareness of the air temperature, Colt blinks over at Thal as she speaks. Oh, right. The game. What sort of hair could she cut off Thal in retribution, she wonders. ”Tell me one of your secrets.”
Deciding perhaps Tha’s stakes are a bit too high, when the round returns to her, Colt says steadily, ”truth.”
Colt asks Thal to share a secret
Colt picks Truth
The blade Thal pulls free matches her smile with such precision that Colt has one brief flash of worry that she’s just offered up her neck instead of her scalp to this woman. How many barbering accidents are there in a year—Sweney Todd would say many. Her chin tilts, the motion of confidence lost as she’s abruptly yanked to the side, leashed by her choice as much as her hair now. The first bundle of gold falls with a muted crunch of hair splitting over metal, and Colt gasps to see it in such large bundles.
Fuck. What has she done?
By the time it’s over, looking a bit like Cynthia from the Rugrats, Colt has become stock still. No undue movement to make it worse, sure, but also a necessity to keep from bursting into tears, which very nearly happened at one point as she drew in a shaky breath and instead pinched her eyes shut and dissociated.
Turning, the movement oddly light, her head still prickling with absence and new awareness of the air temperature, Colt blinks over at Thal as she speaks. Oh, right. The game. What sort of hair could she cut off Thal in retribution, she wonders. ”Tell me one of your secrets.”
Deciding perhaps Tha’s stakes are a bit too high, when the round returns to her, Colt says steadily, ”truth.”
Colt asks Thal to share a secret
Colt picks Truth
Colt
Hole in your heart with some good aim
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.
