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
Oh, that shrimp is fried. He’s either sunburnt beneath his clothes and her irons really did a number on already sensitive skin, or he’s found himself on the cursed end of Hotaru’s metaphorical kiss. Colt doesn’t plainly give a damn about the why in this moment, too busy clawing herself back into breath and balance.
She flips over, kicking away to give herself distance, ice exploding in a brilliant blast of cold and reflection nearby that she darts her attention towards briefly. Controlled and aimed at the men, so she’s safe, and that’s all she needs to know. Her gaze flashes back to the crustacean nearest her, dangerously dark as it lands on him from behind the dragon that’s bristling between them, a welcome barrier as she inhales roughly. She might be down, but all he’s done is piss her right off. ”You piece of shit,” she sneers, the sound more broken than she’d like, but the fury carries it clear enough.
Rising back to her feet, knife slipped from the space between her ankle and boot, she flicks the switchblade open and rolls it against her palm. Wiping grit from the corner of her mouth with the back of her other hand, she takes in the full scene now. Hotaru’s got it well under thumb, no surprise there, but now that their egos are bruised, the two men seem intent on doubling down further. ”You don’t really wanna get bloody today, d’ya Hotaru?” Colt calls over to the Valkyrie without losing the lock of her eyes on the man who’s also found his feet.
She exhales. It’s a slow, steadying breath, the kind she uses to sharpen her air just before she releases her arrow. ”I go high, you go low,” she says on her next breath, soft and subtle to the dragon just before she steps forward into the stone and flicks her wrist. She’s much better long range than short, but years of playing at knife throwing in taverns have certainly paid off one way or another, and her dagger goes sailing for the shithead’s shoulder.
She uses that opening to duck to the side and grab her bow and quiver of the back of her chair, swiftly nocking one and lifting it up with the target on the cheat across the table, swiveling to the linebacker near her, unsure which might need the shaft first, depending how Andraste and Hotaru move into this dance.
She flips over, kicking away to give herself distance, ice exploding in a brilliant blast of cold and reflection nearby that she darts her attention towards briefly. Controlled and aimed at the men, so she’s safe, and that’s all she needs to know. Her gaze flashes back to the crustacean nearest her, dangerously dark as it lands on him from behind the dragon that’s bristling between them, a welcome barrier as she inhales roughly. She might be down, but all he’s done is piss her right off. ”You piece of shit,” she sneers, the sound more broken than she’d like, but the fury carries it clear enough.
Rising back to her feet, knife slipped from the space between her ankle and boot, she flicks the switchblade open and rolls it against her palm. Wiping grit from the corner of her mouth with the back of her other hand, she takes in the full scene now. Hotaru’s got it well under thumb, no surprise there, but now that their egos are bruised, the two men seem intent on doubling down further. ”You don’t really wanna get bloody today, d’ya Hotaru?” Colt calls over to the Valkyrie without losing the lock of her eyes on the man who’s also found his feet.
She exhales. It’s a slow, steadying breath, the kind she uses to sharpen her air just before she releases her arrow. ”I go high, you go low,” she says on her next breath, soft and subtle to the dragon just before she steps forward into the stone and flicks her wrist. She’s much better long range than short, but years of playing at knife throwing in taverns have certainly paid off one way or another, and her dagger goes sailing for the shithead’s shoulder.
She uses that opening to duck to the side and grab her bow and quiver of the back of her chair, swiftly nocking one and lifting it up with the target on the cheat across the table, swiveling to the linebacker near her, unsure which might need the shaft first, depending how Andraste and Hotaru move into this dance.
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.
