What am I then when everything I've known is washed out
Well accustomed to the subtle sighs of wind over meadows, the low calls of livestock moving in groups, and the sharp cut of whistles and barks punctuating work, she never would have deemed her usual days as quiet. The noise here is different though. Not too much, Colt has never been one to shy away from being loud, but this is layered in a way that feels too new that she hasn’t learned what to ignore and what to heed. Over the din of countless conversations and sales, the bustle of sailors and dock workers hollaring warnings and commands, and the roar of the sea behind it all, she doesn’t pick up on Flora until the Doubletake is addressing her. It doesn’t help that she’s intently focused on the grind and whine of the metal beneath her hands as she pressed it against the whetstone, careful not to press too hard and regret it, a common mistake she makes, nor go too soft and end up here all day.
Flora’s approach draws Colt’s eye up, her sharpening lightening though not pausing. ”Has news spread that fast?” she says, a touch bewildered. She’d posted about in King’s End a day or two after regrouping, and her trip here didn’t take long, but she hardly thought her ranch played a role in the trade and gossip mill to have already found the queen of Torchline. Her focus wavers just enough that the next time she tries to drag the knife down her finger meets the stone instead. The touch is startling, and her attention jumps back down, seeming to realize in that same instant what she is doing.
”Oh, you mean this?” She laughs, but the sound is clearly hollow. ”I’d argue this goes hand in hand with ranching, given how unkind the work can be to blades.” Or maybe she’s the one with a rough hand on the hilt, but they always seem to dull fast with all the wood and leather she’s always lending the edge to, never mind the bad habit of sticking it into the dirt to avoid losing it while working.
Flora’s approach draws Colt’s eye up, her sharpening lightening though not pausing. ”Has news spread that fast?” she says, a touch bewildered. She’d posted about in King’s End a day or two after regrouping, and her trip here didn’t take long, but she hardly thought her ranch played a role in the trade and gossip mill to have already found the queen of Torchline. Her focus wavers just enough that the next time she tries to drag the knife down her finger meets the stone instead. The touch is startling, and her attention jumps back down, seeming to realize in that same instant what she is doing.
”Oh, you mean this?” She laughs, but the sound is clearly hollow. ”I’d argue this goes hand in hand with ranching, given how unkind the work can be to blades.” Or maybe she’s the one with a rough hand on the hilt, but they always seem to dull fast with all the wood and leather she’s always lending the edge to, never mind the bad habit of sticking it into the dirt to avoid losing it while working.
Colt
Don't care if there's pieces left to mend, If I stay broken I can't be broken again
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.
