I'll let the flames take me high, burn down the whole damn sky
Her 'hair' has surely gone a bit askew with the motions, but she's so focused on this new task at hand that she doesn't quite register the little slip of the hat's weight. Short of it entirely tumbling off her head, it's impossible to do anything but focus on Sunjata when he's gathering back his full height, smile the picture perfect portrait of boyish mischief. It's enough to flare her own grin into something wider, the sparkle of holding this upper hand over him, however brief, turning her warmth into something delightfully devious. "Sit right there and you'll see," she orders, pointing towards the armchair in her living room. "I'll be right back!"
She hustles down a hall, although it's not to her room that she scurries, but the one that once belonged to her parents. Since cleaned out and turned into a guest room, there are still some holdovers stowed away. Some belonged to her late husband, some to her parents, and they range from sentimental keepsakes to things that were just more hassle to deal with than to pack away. It's to the latter that she delves, ripping free a box or two with a noise more tremendous than necessary for the reality of foraging through memories.
A small sound of triumph rises when she finds what she'd been looking for. Quickly she takes it, and after dipping into the bathroom, reappears with a tray of goodies she sets down near the armchair. "You," she says with a firm point towards him, "are in desperate need of a shave." She's pulled out all her late husband's old equipment for the task, something she'd helped him with a time or two. Flicking out the towel to put on his chest and under his neck, she then uses the lever to recline him back, a hand reaching out to trace the length of the stubble on his cheek.
She hustles down a hall, although it's not to her room that she scurries, but the one that once belonged to her parents. Since cleaned out and turned into a guest room, there are still some holdovers stowed away. Some belonged to her late husband, some to her parents, and they range from sentimental keepsakes to things that were just more hassle to deal with than to pack away. It's to the latter that she delves, ripping free a box or two with a noise more tremendous than necessary for the reality of foraging through memories.
A small sound of triumph rises when she finds what she'd been looking for. Quickly she takes it, and after dipping into the bathroom, reappears with a tray of goodies she sets down near the armchair. "You," she says with a firm point towards him, "are in desperate need of a shave." She's pulled out all her late husband's old equipment for the task, something she'd helped him with a time or two. Flicking out the towel to put on his chest and under his neck, she then uses the lever to recline him back, a hand reaching out to trace the length of the stubble on his cheek.
Colt
I spent the night on the ceiling, drank the whole weight of my weakness
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.
