Heart is buried six feet in the ground, gonna need a shovel now
Oh, Colt knows Soh can get drunk just fine, but there aren’t many who can drink their shots straight from a bottle with no salt or chasers to go with. Add to that that Colt’s drug of choice is tequila, which doesn’t usually align with everyone else’s decision, and the rancher is rather in awe of the woman she figured needed this blended and dosed in sugar first. So she just grins back at Soh’s easy response, tilting her head in understanding of life’s eagerness to provide practice.
The dancing leaves her breathless, peetering off from Soh with a staggering waltz of laughter and sighs. ”Now you’ve done it!” she declares, and there’s something to dragging out an accomplishment from the middle of nowhere. A reminder, however small, that there’s more that can be done. Maybe not as simple as this, but surely this is not the end.
Tipping her head back to smile up into the rain, arms outstretched for balance, although a few footsteps back are taken as the motion upsets her steadiness regardless, she grabs hold of something better than going numb. Living. Dripping water now as the storm picks up in earnest, Colt sticks her tongue out, catching a few drops as if she’s exactly where she wants to be, undaunted by weather and broken lives. As Soh calls out, she sweeps her focus back down with another staggering gait. ”Coooming!” she answers back, crouching down to reclaim her bundle of goods in her arms and racing after Soh with her head ducking against the raind riven by the wind. She giggles, barefeet slapping the walkway as she giggles and whoops into the night.
Spilling into the house like a dog that’s escaped a bath, Colt drips at the entry way and peers around at the impressive mansion with the wide eyes of someone keenly aware you’re not supposed to enter a place like this soaking wet. ”Oh shit this place is too nice,” she gasps to Soh, bare toes wiggling over one another as Colt stands with her boots, socks, and liquor cradled in her arms. A fresh shiver runs through her, teeth chattering abruptly. "Can I put these here?" she asks, scarcely waiting for an answer before she begins to deposit her armful near the door. Her dripping shirt, soaked jeans, and damp hat all join the pile, peeling away the waterlogged fabric out of practicality more than anything else. Seemingly unbothered by it, she stands up in just her bra and panties, straightening out her hair against each shoulder. "Much better."
The dancing leaves her breathless, peetering off from Soh with a staggering waltz of laughter and sighs. ”Now you’ve done it!” she declares, and there’s something to dragging out an accomplishment from the middle of nowhere. A reminder, however small, that there’s more that can be done. Maybe not as simple as this, but surely this is not the end.
Tipping her head back to smile up into the rain, arms outstretched for balance, although a few footsteps back are taken as the motion upsets her steadiness regardless, she grabs hold of something better than going numb. Living. Dripping water now as the storm picks up in earnest, Colt sticks her tongue out, catching a few drops as if she’s exactly where she wants to be, undaunted by weather and broken lives. As Soh calls out, she sweeps her focus back down with another staggering gait. ”Coooming!” she answers back, crouching down to reclaim her bundle of goods in her arms and racing after Soh with her head ducking against the raind riven by the wind. She giggles, barefeet slapping the walkway as she giggles and whoops into the night.
Spilling into the house like a dog that’s escaped a bath, Colt drips at the entry way and peers around at the impressive mansion with the wide eyes of someone keenly aware you’re not supposed to enter a place like this soaking wet. ”Oh shit this place is too nice,” she gasps to Soh, bare toes wiggling over one another as Colt stands with her boots, socks, and liquor cradled in her arms. A fresh shiver runs through her, teeth chattering abruptly. "Can I put these here?" she asks, scarcely waiting for an answer before she begins to deposit her armful near the door. Her dripping shirt, soaked jeans, and damp hat all join the pile, peeling away the waterlogged fabric out of practicality more than anything else. Seemingly unbothered by it, she stands up in just her bra and panties, straightening out her hair against each shoulder. "Much better."
Colt
Maybe one day I'll get back the rhythm in my chest
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.
