COLT
I've called many things 'love' and so many things 'grief'
They've all just been versions of uncertainty
They've all just been versions of uncertainty
A long, hard day has a way of making people look good, in her opinion. It brings about a certain honesty to the body, because where there's exhaustion, there's less strength to prop up falsehoods, so the smiles that come are more genuine, even if they're slow and soft with the weight of the motion. The eyes are always a little more polished too, like weariness has taken off some of the jaded edges, or at least enough dirt has packed into the wrinkle lines that scrutiny doesn't land so sharp. Although she's seen Zavien at work a few times now, he's never looked better than today, utterly tossed by summer heat and rodeo dust. It's an appraisal she grants without even meaning to, her gaze trailing over him with all the same lingering assessment she gives to most.
"Oh, it's no trouble," she reassures, and she means it. The Rocky Mountain oysters don't require much. Her own stride does not break or slow as the dogs swamp them. Her focus remains intent on the house drawing ever closer, and if any paws end up under her feet, well they don't stay there for long. Zavien, on the other hand, will find himself repeatedly mobbed because like blood in shark-infested waters, they've scented that they can get pets from him on the go, which is a very exciting treat compared to pets on the porch, which is where Colt gives them.
A small laugh huffs out at his confession, and Colt tosses him another wild grin. "Nope, you fell crooked off," she teases, but soon enough shakes her head. "Practice makes perfect, yeah? And even then, sometimes it's just about luck and good timing. Do it enough and you're bound to get those eight seconds." Which is as true for life as it is bull riding.
She steps onto the porch of her house with a stamp and jig of her boots, trying to knock off as much grime as she can before she kicks them off by the door. "Oh, well I would hate to show everyone up," she croons, implying she's such a master there'd be no competition if she entered. Her smirk paints the truth plain though as she pops open her screen door and ushers him inside, tide of dogs too. "I prefer to watch something like that than be a part of it. Takes a special sort to take a risk like that, and much as I like to think I'm bold, I don't like to play around with danger if I don't have to." Most cowboys ride for the prize, or for some infamy. She has never been interested in swelling her pride, and she's less interested in gambling her body when she needs it for her every day work.
"Better question is, why did you ride?" she wonders, busying herself in the kitchen as soon as they're both in.
"Oh, it's no trouble," she reassures, and she means it. The Rocky Mountain oysters don't require much. Her own stride does not break or slow as the dogs swamp them. Her focus remains intent on the house drawing ever closer, and if any paws end up under her feet, well they don't stay there for long. Zavien, on the other hand, will find himself repeatedly mobbed because like blood in shark-infested waters, they've scented that they can get pets from him on the go, which is a very exciting treat compared to pets on the porch, which is where Colt gives them.
A small laugh huffs out at his confession, and Colt tosses him another wild grin. "Nope, you fell crooked off," she teases, but soon enough shakes her head. "Practice makes perfect, yeah? And even then, sometimes it's just about luck and good timing. Do it enough and you're bound to get those eight seconds." Which is as true for life as it is bull riding.
She steps onto the porch of her house with a stamp and jig of her boots, trying to knock off as much grime as she can before she kicks them off by the door. "Oh, well I would hate to show everyone up," she croons, implying she's such a master there'd be no competition if she entered. Her smirk paints the truth plain though as she pops open her screen door and ushers him inside, tide of dogs too. "I prefer to watch something like that than be a part of it. Takes a special sort to take a risk like that, and much as I like to think I'm bold, I don't like to play around with danger if I don't have to." Most cowboys ride for the prize, or for some infamy. She has never been interested in swelling her pride, and she's less interested in gambling her body when she needs it for her every day work.
"Better question is, why did you ride?" she wonders, busying herself in the kitchen as soon as they're both in.
Sudden cracks in the floor, but we're keeping the pace now
I feel this terror when we start to slip and I stare down
Keep the tempo now as the roof starts to cave
Keep the tempo now as the world starts to break
I feel this terror when we start to slip and I stare down
Keep the tempo now as the roof starts to cave
Keep the tempo now as the world starts to break
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.
