Heart is buried six feet in the ground, gonna need a shovel now
She palms the offered drink readily, lifting it up in the curl of her hand to immediately sip at the tart concoction. It slides back smooth and crisp, biting back in just the way she likes, saliva gathering in response. ”This is excellent,” she commends, holding up the drink in thanks to Soh while she takes another pull off the glass, gaze sliding patiently over crystal and counter to the fellow blonde.
Well, she’s put it off long enough.
Inhaling heavily through her nose and dropping her drink back to the bartop with a faint clink, she gathers the words with a residual smack of her lips after the sour. ”No,” she says coolly, gaze training somewhere on a distant wall, an easier place to tell this truth to than a set of eyes that might strain with sympathy that could wound her. ”Everything’s gone to hell.” A beat. ”More than usual.” Where normally a wry twist and a fresh bite of sarcasm might be handed over, Colt’s lips instead thin into a frown, and she shakes her head faintly.
”Lost everything to a fire. The ranch, my home, all the things I own.” They sound like a list of things, and that surely should not be so important, but it’s so much more, for her. ”Everything, gone.” The last places where she could picture her mother. The table she’d sat across from her father every morning after they’d argued the night before. The closet where she’d buried the odds and ends of a husband that didn’t deserve to linger on her, but did anyway. The cableknit sweater Vesper had left her with. Things that carried people and memories in them.
Jewelry she’d picked up from random ventures into towns and shops. Clothing she’d broken in or barely wore, but cherished in some form or another. A lemon tree she’d planted years ago, and a blackberry bush she’d just done this spring, still waiting for it to yield. Colt lost all the marks of time and effort, each one erased in a blink. Her livelihood reduced to rubble, and her home scattering into the wind. Routine, comfort, trust—all of it charred and swept into the dirt.
For the first time, the stark realization of having nothing remaining hits her fully, and a quiet, strangled sob splits the line of her fingers that she’s curled from under her chin and over her lips, pressing in like force alone could keep this back.
Well, she’s put it off long enough.
Inhaling heavily through her nose and dropping her drink back to the bartop with a faint clink, she gathers the words with a residual smack of her lips after the sour. ”No,” she says coolly, gaze training somewhere on a distant wall, an easier place to tell this truth to than a set of eyes that might strain with sympathy that could wound her. ”Everything’s gone to hell.” A beat. ”More than usual.” Where normally a wry twist and a fresh bite of sarcasm might be handed over, Colt’s lips instead thin into a frown, and she shakes her head faintly.
”Lost everything to a fire. The ranch, my home, all the things I own.” They sound like a list of things, and that surely should not be so important, but it’s so much more, for her. ”Everything, gone.” The last places where she could picture her mother. The table she’d sat across from her father every morning after they’d argued the night before. The closet where she’d buried the odds and ends of a husband that didn’t deserve to linger on her, but did anyway. The cableknit sweater Vesper had left her with. Things that carried people and memories in them.
Jewelry she’d picked up from random ventures into towns and shops. Clothing she’d broken in or barely wore, but cherished in some form or another. A lemon tree she’d planted years ago, and a blackberry bush she’d just done this spring, still waiting for it to yield. Colt lost all the marks of time and effort, each one erased in a blink. Her livelihood reduced to rubble, and her home scattering into the wind. Routine, comfort, trust—all of it charred and swept into the dirt.
For the first time, the stark realization of having nothing remaining hits her fully, and a quiet, strangled sob splits the line of her fingers that she’s curled from under her chin and over her lips, pressing in like force alone could keep this back.
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.
