A surprised ‘o’ shapes her mouth from its teasing smile as he offers up just how busy he has been, and will soon very well be. ”Congratulations,” she beams across at him, assuming the wish is in order after seeing him with his son at the rodeo. She’s not certain she’s ever like the same extended to her, the ideas of being a mother long ago buried with a husband, and now she’s quite certain she’s too old to keep up with her heart much less a little one.
Well, it’s no wonder he gives off such a fatherly figure, he has practice doling out patience with citizen and babe alike. ”Yes, you’ll be quite busy,” she grins, happiness for the piece of paradise he’s found simmering warm and bright through her, rushing past the hollow ache that’s sure she’ll never uncover the same.
Perhaps that’s part of what lent her to say the quiet part aloud. The small, fragile thoughts of this being the end of all she might amount to. Some part of her immediately kicks back at such notions, and it’s granted improved strength when he adds to it. ”I suppose not,” she finds herself agreeing, smile threading back into place with a quiet appreciation as she sneaks a thankful glance towards him. A vote of confidence is sometimes all that’s needed to recover a stride gone short.
All of that fades away to one, singular, small, slug. Colt has to press her lips together tightly to keep in the laugh that risks escaping, especially as Deimos levels the peryton with a look so unimpressed it rivals the one he’d given her idea of lassoing an ursur. Soon enough though her humor fled her as another sound came forth from the mire ahead, and as Deimos scrutinized it, Colt found herself already swinging the bow around into her hands from her back. Slug, horse, or something else, she wanted to be better prepared, and she’s all the more certain that Belial wouldn’t be calling for nothing. ”The rats?”
Well, it’s no wonder he gives off such a fatherly figure, he has practice doling out patience with citizen and babe alike. ”Yes, you’ll be quite busy,” she grins, happiness for the piece of paradise he’s found simmering warm and bright through her, rushing past the hollow ache that’s sure she’ll never uncover the same.
Perhaps that’s part of what lent her to say the quiet part aloud. The small, fragile thoughts of this being the end of all she might amount to. Some part of her immediately kicks back at such notions, and it’s granted improved strength when he adds to it. ”I suppose not,” she finds herself agreeing, smile threading back into place with a quiet appreciation as she sneaks a thankful glance towards him. A vote of confidence is sometimes all that’s needed to recover a stride gone short.
All of that fades away to one, singular, small, slug. Colt has to press her lips together tightly to keep in the laugh that risks escaping, especially as Deimos levels the peryton with a look so unimpressed it rivals the one he’d given her idea of lassoing an ursur. Soon enough though her humor fled her as another sound came forth from the mire ahead, and as Deimos scrutinized it, Colt found herself already swinging the bow around into her hands from her back. Slug, horse, or something else, she wanted to be better prepared, and she’s all the more certain that Belial wouldn’t be calling for nothing. ”The rats?”
Colt
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.
