What am I then when everything I've known is washed out
Oh fuck is about the most perfect summary there is to one’s life going up in flames. It doesn’t leave room for grace or apology, it’s just the raw, unfiltered reality of it all being bad. An acknowledgement, rather than something trying to pass as pretty, and Colt’s more grateful for the ringing drop of it than even she realizes. Most of her and the hands haven’t said much about it, a lived experience they don’t need to waste breath on, but it’s left something to build quietly in their chests. It escapes Colt now as a hollow, ringing laugh, more exasperation than amusement. ”Yeah,” she agrees, and that’s that. Oh fuck.
The sound cuts short as she bears down on the knife, and shortly thereafter, the sky does the same to them. Biting back her glower with a huff at the bitchy weather, Colt finds her finger grasped securely in Flora’s hand before they ever grant the copper taste to her tongue. ”Thanks,” she murmurs, finger bending as if to test the quickly repaired skin the healing left behind.
Not shying from the risk of more injury, Colt adjusts her seat and swings the blade back into sharpening after re-wetting the stone. She’s mindful this time of her pressure and her focus, sparing Flora a glance just before she starts, if only to register the full weight of everything Flora just offered. Healing, help, and a home. A bounty of things Colt suddenly finds herself in need of, and a hard pill to swallow so blatantly for someone well used to doing things on her own. ”I appreciate the offer,” she says with a quiet softened by sincerity. She did not expect such a show of kindness. Still, she shakes her head as she brings the fine edge back to the blade, repairing what damage she’d done with her careless force before.
”Not quite sure I’ve figure out next steps beyond today though,” she admits with a sound half grumble and half defeated sigh. ”I keep coming back to the idea of rebuilding, and finding I’m not as sure as I once was.” She pauses the drag of the metal, testing the sharpness on a fingernail. ”We fight the fires every year in King’s End,” she admits, a certain weariness creeping into her tone, a soldier who has stood through many battles only to lose the war still. ”This time it just happened to win. Seems like a waste of time and effort and money to just recreate another matchbox.” She doesn’t know, not for certain, that it’d burn again, but it feels like a matter of when in a place that always ignites. ”Might not be as obvious as climbing up next to a volcano and complaining it’s hot, but the premise is the same.” There’s massive degrees of difference to it, because she could probably, eventually, fireproof another ranch. She’s not positive you could do the same to a volcano. Still, she doesn’t like the in-between.
”Not to mention the time and resources to redo it all… nowhere to put all this herd while it goes up, and need the coin from the herd sales to do it. Say I build it, now the herd’s small, it’ll take years to regrow to what it was, and I’ll be covering all that ground all the while.” The more she reasons through it, the more unappealing it sounds. She shakes her head, setting the blade back to the stone, mindful of angling it to just one section that needs it. ”No, I’m thinking now’s the time to see about something new.”
The sound cuts short as she bears down on the knife, and shortly thereafter, the sky does the same to them. Biting back her glower with a huff at the bitchy weather, Colt finds her finger grasped securely in Flora’s hand before they ever grant the copper taste to her tongue. ”Thanks,” she murmurs, finger bending as if to test the quickly repaired skin the healing left behind.
Not shying from the risk of more injury, Colt adjusts her seat and swings the blade back into sharpening after re-wetting the stone. She’s mindful this time of her pressure and her focus, sparing Flora a glance just before she starts, if only to register the full weight of everything Flora just offered. Healing, help, and a home. A bounty of things Colt suddenly finds herself in need of, and a hard pill to swallow so blatantly for someone well used to doing things on her own. ”I appreciate the offer,” she says with a quiet softened by sincerity. She did not expect such a show of kindness. Still, she shakes her head as she brings the fine edge back to the blade, repairing what damage she’d done with her careless force before.
”Not quite sure I’ve figure out next steps beyond today though,” she admits with a sound half grumble and half defeated sigh. ”I keep coming back to the idea of rebuilding, and finding I’m not as sure as I once was.” She pauses the drag of the metal, testing the sharpness on a fingernail. ”We fight the fires every year in King’s End,” she admits, a certain weariness creeping into her tone, a soldier who has stood through many battles only to lose the war still. ”This time it just happened to win. Seems like a waste of time and effort and money to just recreate another matchbox.” She doesn’t know, not for certain, that it’d burn again, but it feels like a matter of when in a place that always ignites. ”Might not be as obvious as climbing up next to a volcano and complaining it’s hot, but the premise is the same.” There’s massive degrees of difference to it, because she could probably, eventually, fireproof another ranch. She’s not positive you could do the same to a volcano. Still, she doesn’t like the in-between.
”Not to mention the time and resources to redo it all… nowhere to put all this herd while it goes up, and need the coin from the herd sales to do it. Say I build it, now the herd’s small, it’ll take years to regrow to what it was, and I’ll be covering all that ground all the while.” The more she reasons through it, the more unappealing it sounds. She shakes her head, setting the blade back to the stone, mindful of angling it to just one section that needs it. ”No, I’m thinking now’s the time to see about something new.”
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.
