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
She levels him with a look that suggests he’s chosen wrong. She’ll drink beer all day long, so will the horses, but come nightfall, something a bit stronger is always needed. After the day he’s had, shit, he needs something that’ll knock him on his ass again. She considers, just for a moment, making him a drink anyway, but she expects he won’t drink it, so it’ll just be a waste. Shaking her head faintly, she reaches for a beer instead. Can only lead the horse to water after all.
Handing over the chilled bottle, she finishes the creation of her margarita and returns his unused ice and empty glass tot heir sources. A chuckle slips free partway through at mention of Edith. ”Like I told you before, you’d be doing her every favor you could too just to avoid the alternative. That’s nothing altruistic, that’s just survival.” Could be Colt doesn’t sit well with praise, and it could be Edith has a mean stinkeye and a meaner mouth on her.
The tart kick of the margarita hits the back of her throat, puckering saliva and a corner of one eye as she swallows the sip. She considers him over the rim of her glass, giving him a proper up and down as if she hasn’t already, but given his gesture, she’s trying to find what is supposed to be so obvious. ”I think leaders can do just fine in denim,” she offers, as if his wardrobe is the only thing that could fit his complaint. The twitch at the corner of her mouth suggests she knows there’s more, but he’s already proven to be a bit stubborn and she doesn’t expect she’ll make headway by going straight at him. Like moving cattle, you have to leave room for where you want them to go and put pressure where you don’t want them to.
Abruptly, she turns around and reaches back into her icebox, withdrawing two parcels. ”C’mon this,” she says without room for argument, tossing him a bag of steaks while she hoists up her own bundle of balls. She stalks across her kitchen and bursts through the screen door, kicking it aside like a gunshot and whistling all the dogs out of the house. The ones playing with Sol growl and wrestle the rope toy and dragon into a sideways shuffle out the door. ”We’re grilling out here,” she explains a beat later, setting to the task with efficiency.
”So,” she wonders, one hand fluttering over the grill every so often to test its heat while her other swaps from drink to hip and back again. ”What’s hard about eating steaks and falling on your ass?”
Handing over the chilled bottle, she finishes the creation of her margarita and returns his unused ice and empty glass tot heir sources. A chuckle slips free partway through at mention of Edith. ”Like I told you before, you’d be doing her every favor you could too just to avoid the alternative. That’s nothing altruistic, that’s just survival.” Could be Colt doesn’t sit well with praise, and it could be Edith has a mean stinkeye and a meaner mouth on her.
The tart kick of the margarita hits the back of her throat, puckering saliva and a corner of one eye as she swallows the sip. She considers him over the rim of her glass, giving him a proper up and down as if she hasn’t already, but given his gesture, she’s trying to find what is supposed to be so obvious. ”I think leaders can do just fine in denim,” she offers, as if his wardrobe is the only thing that could fit his complaint. The twitch at the corner of her mouth suggests she knows there’s more, but he’s already proven to be a bit stubborn and she doesn’t expect she’ll make headway by going straight at him. Like moving cattle, you have to leave room for where you want them to go and put pressure where you don’t want them to.
Abruptly, she turns around and reaches back into her icebox, withdrawing two parcels. ”C’mon this,” she says without room for argument, tossing him a bag of steaks while she hoists up her own bundle of balls. She stalks across her kitchen and bursts through the screen door, kicking it aside like a gunshot and whistling all the dogs out of the house. The ones playing with Sol growl and wrestle the rope toy and dragon into a sideways shuffle out the door. ”We’re grilling out here,” she explains a beat later, setting to the task with efficiency.
”So,” she wonders, one hand fluttering over the grill every so often to test its heat while her other swaps from drink to hip and back again. ”What’s hard about eating steaks and falling on your ass?”
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.
