-Zavien-
Sol is happy to take on the role of challenger in their tug-of-war game, wings fluttering at his side while he growls in playful rumbles that occasionally produce a plume of smoke. At least he has the decency to avoid furniture, but his claws unknowingly threaten the rug at his feet.
Although he has no intention of declining Colt's offer for a drink, Zavien smiles at the suggestion. "I'll take beer if you've got it." He's not one for stronger liquors. Being more of a lightweight than people would expect, beers have always done the trick, so the occasional cold one after a hard training session or day of work is often a welcome indulgence.
His eyes track her across the kitchen, not even noticing that the blonde hair draping down her back is a wig. He's more attentive to the confident set of her shoulders and the radiating approval of his reasoning.
Nodding his own agreement on increasing the habit of people challenging themselves, he voices his similar determination of the rancher. "You too, Colt. Not everyone's willing to spend their afternoons helping neighbors - particularly old ones with bad hips." Zavien doesn't hide the bit of teasing humor or the quiet certainty in her own goodness, a sincerity giving his voice warmth and light despite the darkness of encroaching night.
Despite the weight of her questions, Zavien doesn't hesitate to admit with a shrug of his shoulders, "I don't know yet." He glances down at his hat, chuckling through a smile like he's found a joke embossed in the leather. "It's kind of hard to go from leading a region to - " he looks up at Colt when he gestures down at himself, irony turning his smile crooked when he finishes, "this." Not the dust and grime or the exhaustion attempting to catch his limbs, but the aimlessness beneath and the complete lack of responsibility. He's a leader without a region and a soldier without purpose, a verifiably useless sack of muscle and motivation, and although he doesn't look lost or broken, there's something untethered about the way he carries himself. His feet don't quite settle into the floorboards and his body lingers on the edge of some unseen action, like a warrior waiting for the call to arms.
Although he has no intention of declining Colt's offer for a drink, Zavien smiles at the suggestion. "I'll take beer if you've got it." He's not one for stronger liquors. Being more of a lightweight than people would expect, beers have always done the trick, so the occasional cold one after a hard training session or day of work is often a welcome indulgence.
His eyes track her across the kitchen, not even noticing that the blonde hair draping down her back is a wig. He's more attentive to the confident set of her shoulders and the radiating approval of his reasoning.
Nodding his own agreement on increasing the habit of people challenging themselves, he voices his similar determination of the rancher. "You too, Colt. Not everyone's willing to spend their afternoons helping neighbors - particularly old ones with bad hips." Zavien doesn't hide the bit of teasing humor or the quiet certainty in her own goodness, a sincerity giving his voice warmth and light despite the darkness of encroaching night.
Despite the weight of her questions, Zavien doesn't hesitate to admit with a shrug of his shoulders, "I don't know yet." He glances down at his hat, chuckling through a smile like he's found a joke embossed in the leather. "It's kind of hard to go from leading a region to - " he looks up at Colt when he gestures down at himself, irony turning his smile crooked when he finishes, "this." Not the dust and grime or the exhaustion attempting to catch his limbs, but the aimlessness beneath and the complete lack of responsibility. He's a leader without a region and a soldier without purpose, a verifiably useless sack of muscle and motivation, and although he doesn't look lost or broken, there's something untethered about the way he carries himself. His feet don't quite settle into the floorboards and his body lingers on the edge of some unseen action, like a warrior waiting for the call to arms.
Life is getting up one more time
than you've been knocked down.
than you've been knocked down.
