Colt
Cold nights, a sleight of hand
No trace of innocence, long gone, long gone
I've been tangled up, I've been wrangling up heathens
I've been double-cupped neck-up in the deep end
No trace of innocence, long gone, long gone
I've been tangled up, I've been wrangling up heathens
I've been double-cupped neck-up in the deep end
"YOU FIEND!" The raucous accusation is immediately cut away with a streak of laughter that attempts to light up the cavern as readily as the lanterns. The stone hollows carry it down, the bounce fading with distance and repetition until it sounds little more than ghosts tittering to themselves out of sight. The poker table erupts into a roar of defensive chatter and thumping fists, but Colt has retreated back against her chair, letting the chaos brew while she slouches in obvious defeat.
Kicking the cards away with her fingers, the dealer cleans the table and deals another round. ”I’ve got you this time, fucker,” she informs before she’s claimed her hand, arrogance carving her lips into a tilted, devious shape. Pulling her cigarette from the edge of her mouth, she peeks down at her cards, smoke billowing out in a purposeful haze as she exhales long and slow. ”Mmhmmmm,” she hums with a fresh sweetness.
Nudging her bet into the middle with the heel of her glass, she tilts the drink back eagerly. Around the edge of the drink, her gaze cuts across the table, watching. The merry air can turn on a dime with this lot, and she’s fairly sure the man she called out before is on too good of a lucky streak to be anything short of a cheat.
Kicking the cards away with her fingers, the dealer cleans the table and deals another round. ”I’ve got you this time, fucker,” she informs before she’s claimed her hand, arrogance carving her lips into a tilted, devious shape. Pulling her cigarette from the edge of her mouth, she peeks down at her cards, smoke billowing out in a purposeful haze as she exhales long and slow. ”Mmhmmmm,” she hums with a fresh sweetness.
Nudging her bet into the middle with the heel of her glass, she tilts the drink back eagerly. Around the edge of the drink, her gaze cuts across the table, watching. The merry air can turn on a dime with this lot, and she’s fairly sure the man she called out before is on too good of a lucky streak to be anything short of a cheat.
They all know it's the wrong road
But they still go, they still go
Fucking long days getting longer
And the dark days getting darker
But they still go, they still go
Fucking long days getting longer
And the dark days getting darker
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.
