Tell me I got something to believe in'
The portions of her scraped raw in the Hollowed Grounds had since lacquered over with salt and soot, the efforts of several layers of dried tears and a few things burned, literally or otherwise. She can show off the wound now in some fashion or another to the girls. It doesn't bleed as it once did, but the area is still tight and stiff, and she feels its reminder some days fiercer than others. Today, she stretches it out purposefully, trying to keep the sting from setting in that coddling it might otherwise risk.
"If I run down the list of every man's name I know, I'll be talking all night," she complains playfully, shrugging as if it's obvious they should all be avoided. Hawthorn might be the only one free of her scorn. Though there is one name in particular that she means, and they're clearly shrewd enough to pick up on that. "If you're going to avoid anyone, though." Her gaze does not keep any of them now, but bores into a corner on the wall where wood and ocean join, distant for the moment it takes to unearth the name from where she's buried it. For a beat, she doesn't want to say it. Not because she can't, which had been the case for a time, but because part of her doesn't want to tarnish him. It's one thing to manage it when she's beside herself, or to lay it out for her confidant, and it's quite another to say it composed and to a room of women she doesn't know very well.
She recognizes she has faults too, a cold reality that seeps in thicker some times than others. It doesn't feel good to dwell on those, so it's easier to bury the truth and tilt the story against him, or it had been until now. Anger doesn't leave room for honesty, and there's no balance with bitterness, but this is neither. She isn't sure what it is, and she's acutely aware of how damn resistant the skin is being today when she tries to extend it. "Vesper's the one." All the prior charm has left her tone, leaving it flat and soft, as stretched out as her gaze. It cost her something to push through the reluctance and name him, and that catches her by surprise. She blinks, focus clearing back in a sudden rush that leaves her pressing on a crooked smile suddenly, pretending it's nothing more than another tease for the room and not something wearing on her.
Popping the rest of the cheese into her mouth all at once, like a gag everyone would understand, she's immediately grateful for Mel taking the spotlight. The Honeybee does earn a simper and a wink at her continuation of Colt's commentary about reliable looks, but beyond that, Colt uses the distraction to her benefit for the time being. Sweeping off her plush perch in a fluid motion of liquid steel, Colt pours herself a glass and promptly downs it while everyone gushes over the date potential with the demigod. It tastes wrong with the mash of cheese still in her throat, and it's effort to swallow it all, but she's going for effect more than flavor for the moment.
Pouring another, she turns back into the fold as if nothing had ever been amiss, and settles into her hip against the cushion edge, slowly sipping this time. Attention sharpens with her gaze on Flora at mention of the rodeo. "See, emotionally stunted," Colt scoffs at the childish display from her ex. "You should have told me, I could have accidentally sent a stampede his way." As for the mess of who all is who, Colt can connect enough dots to see it's a mess and she'll leave that part of it well enough alone. "By the way, how'd it feel bucking your man off?" She smirks instead, focus swinging to Sohalia with an expectant eyebrow raise.
"If I run down the list of every man's name I know, I'll be talking all night," she complains playfully, shrugging as if it's obvious they should all be avoided. Hawthorn might be the only one free of her scorn. Though there is one name in particular that she means, and they're clearly shrewd enough to pick up on that. "If you're going to avoid anyone, though." Her gaze does not keep any of them now, but bores into a corner on the wall where wood and ocean join, distant for the moment it takes to unearth the name from where she's buried it. For a beat, she doesn't want to say it. Not because she can't, which had been the case for a time, but because part of her doesn't want to tarnish him. It's one thing to manage it when she's beside herself, or to lay it out for her confidant, and it's quite another to say it composed and to a room of women she doesn't know very well.
She recognizes she has faults too, a cold reality that seeps in thicker some times than others. It doesn't feel good to dwell on those, so it's easier to bury the truth and tilt the story against him, or it had been until now. Anger doesn't leave room for honesty, and there's no balance with bitterness, but this is neither. She isn't sure what it is, and she's acutely aware of how damn resistant the skin is being today when she tries to extend it. "Vesper's the one." All the prior charm has left her tone, leaving it flat and soft, as stretched out as her gaze. It cost her something to push through the reluctance and name him, and that catches her by surprise. She blinks, focus clearing back in a sudden rush that leaves her pressing on a crooked smile suddenly, pretending it's nothing more than another tease for the room and not something wearing on her.
Popping the rest of the cheese into her mouth all at once, like a gag everyone would understand, she's immediately grateful for Mel taking the spotlight. The Honeybee does earn a simper and a wink at her continuation of Colt's commentary about reliable looks, but beyond that, Colt uses the distraction to her benefit for the time being. Sweeping off her plush perch in a fluid motion of liquid steel, Colt pours herself a glass and promptly downs it while everyone gushes over the date potential with the demigod. It tastes wrong with the mash of cheese still in her throat, and it's effort to swallow it all, but she's going for effect more than flavor for the moment.
Pouring another, she turns back into the fold as if nothing had ever been amiss, and settles into her hip against the cushion edge, slowly sipping this time. Attention sharpens with her gaze on Flora at mention of the rodeo. "See, emotionally stunted," Colt scoffs at the childish display from her ex. "You should have told me, I could have accidentally sent a stampede his way." As for the mess of who all is who, Colt can connect enough dots to see it's a mess and she'll leave that part of it well enough alone. "By the way, how'd it feel bucking your man off?" She smirks instead, focus swinging to Sohalia with an expectant eyebrow raise.
Colt
Tell me that you'll love me 'til you leave me
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.
