COLT
Not sure where to go from here
I'm stuck in the middle of freedom and fear
Driving fast with no headlights
Praying everything's gonna be alright
I'm stuck in the middle of freedom and fear
Driving fast with no headlights
Praying everything's gonna be alright
He moves with purpose. He does not meander or stroll, but he steps with meaning, a destination in mind for every footfall, distance something to be bested rather than measured. It’s akin to her own stride when she’s at the ranch, so it does not take effort to keep up, although it does require an adjustment as her attempt at conversation makes her lag behind briefly before she asserts her position fully alongside him. Too taken in by the interesting man beside her, she does not heed the passing enclosures beyond knowing they had passed.
”That’s right,” she confirms his grunt. She’s becoming more sure that his accent is less about where he’s been raised and his general, apparent dislike for words, as if he’s found ways to drop letters and syllables wherever he can in an effort to be done talking sooner. ”Oh no,” she agrees, to fhiya, that one requiring some concentration to parcel through at first. ”I plan to use my bow and arrows. They’re Frey blessed, the arrows, so they’re sharper than most. I’m hunting this Allogator as a quest to improve them further.” She figures some amount of explanation could help, although he doesn’t seem intent on telling her not to fucking do it, which is nice.
His suggestion about smelling and pinning has her wrinkling her brow though, not having personally intended to do either. ”You think I’d need to? I was planning to stay at a distance and fire my arrows, alone.” Smelling and pinning are not her forte.
She lingers on the outside of the shed as he steps in. Largely because she can’t see much of anything when she peers around inside, but also because it’s not a grand, sprawling building. With her luck, between poor sight and proximity, she’d end up grabbing something she shouldn’t. When he swipes something off the shelf though and turns her way, she take one step inside, reaching out to retrieve it from him. ”Thanks,” she murmurs, pocketing the liquid vial, and nodding at his quarantine suggestion. ”Right, will do. Easier to medicate them then anyway,” she agrees.
Light creeps in at the entrance, and where his arm is she can see the manner of scars he bears, ones she hadn’t noticed in her earlier assessment. ”I take it you know what their bites feel like first hand,” she remarks, nodding towards his healed wounds. ”Allogators. Or otherwise.”
”That’s right,” she confirms his grunt. She’s becoming more sure that his accent is less about where he’s been raised and his general, apparent dislike for words, as if he’s found ways to drop letters and syllables wherever he can in an effort to be done talking sooner. ”Oh no,” she agrees, to fhiya, that one requiring some concentration to parcel through at first. ”I plan to use my bow and arrows. They’re Frey blessed, the arrows, so they’re sharper than most. I’m hunting this Allogator as a quest to improve them further.” She figures some amount of explanation could help, although he doesn’t seem intent on telling her not to fucking do it, which is nice.
His suggestion about smelling and pinning has her wrinkling her brow though, not having personally intended to do either. ”You think I’d need to? I was planning to stay at a distance and fire my arrows, alone.” Smelling and pinning are not her forte.
She lingers on the outside of the shed as he steps in. Largely because she can’t see much of anything when she peers around inside, but also because it’s not a grand, sprawling building. With her luck, between poor sight and proximity, she’d end up grabbing something she shouldn’t. When he swipes something off the shelf though and turns her way, she take one step inside, reaching out to retrieve it from him. ”Thanks,” she murmurs, pocketing the liquid vial, and nodding at his quarantine suggestion. ”Right, will do. Easier to medicate them then anyway,” she agrees.
Light creeps in at the entrance, and where his arm is she can see the manner of scars he bears, ones she hadn’t noticed in her earlier assessment. ”I take it you know what their bites feel like first hand,” she remarks, nodding towards his healed wounds. ”Allogators. Or otherwise.”
These conversations with my head and my heart
Never really ever get me too far
Never really ever get me too far
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.
