Ain't had time to miss you since you been gone, it's been nothing but neon
She wishes she’d thought of this before she’d left the Hollowed Grounds, but the incredible hangover and embarrassment had been a driving force to get the fuck out of Dodge. She’s only left her house to try and manage a better wig than her DIY horsetail one, but the stores in King’s End had limited selections, and she’s found them to be unreliable at staying on and unbearably hot.
Which is exactly how she feels currently—hot.
A black bob-cut wig is what she’s currently got on, pinned down under the hood of a sweatshirt that her hands are stuffed into and continually pulling forward to keep everything atop firmly adhering to gravity’s rules. Her sleeves are scrunched up to the elbow, because it’s Longheat, and underneath the powder blue fabric she’s slick with sweat and flushed with heat. It creeps up on her neck and sits on her cheeks as if it’s responsible for supporting her sunglasses. Airing out what she can with a yellow sundress that billows underneath when she opens the guild doors, she slips into the Guilded Market like a beacon pretending to be a shadow.
It’s worth noting that Colt has never much tried to hide a day in her life until now. She’s made herself small at dinner tables and quiet at parties, but it’s not quite the same. Now she’s trying to blend into the background, using a brush a bricklayer would better know as a trowel.
She glances around, licking at her lips with a wariness that pulls deeper in her pockets, assessing. Relief strikes quick and sudden as she spots Remi amid her sweep of the space. Ignoring the not-so-subtle turns of the other guild members and clients, Colt marches over to the Bastion and the worktable he’s bent over. ”Pssst, Remi.”
Which is exactly how she feels currently—hot.
A black bob-cut wig is what she’s currently got on, pinned down under the hood of a sweatshirt that her hands are stuffed into and continually pulling forward to keep everything atop firmly adhering to gravity’s rules. Her sleeves are scrunched up to the elbow, because it’s Longheat, and underneath the powder blue fabric she’s slick with sweat and flushed with heat. It creeps up on her neck and sits on her cheeks as if it’s responsible for supporting her sunglasses. Airing out what she can with a yellow sundress that billows underneath when she opens the guild doors, she slips into the Guilded Market like a beacon pretending to be a shadow.
It’s worth noting that Colt has never much tried to hide a day in her life until now. She’s made herself small at dinner tables and quiet at parties, but it’s not quite the same. Now she’s trying to blend into the background, using a brush a bricklayer would better know as a trowel.
She glances around, licking at her lips with a wariness that pulls deeper in her pockets, assessing. Relief strikes quick and sudden as she spots Remi amid her sweep of the space. Ignoring the not-so-subtle turns of the other guild members and clients, Colt marches over to the Bastion and the worktable he’s bent over. ”Pssst, Remi.”
Colt
Ain't been breaking down, I've been breaking in this heartbreak right
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.
