What am I then when everything I've known is washed out
There’s a stubborness to her route, she knows it. A sense of earning meaning ownership. She has always prefered the things her own hands make as opposed to the results of someone else. Not because what she produces is without flaw, but because she knows exactly where those weakpoints will be, and there’s something to knowing where the cracks will form. Taking everything Flora’s willing to hand her, it’d never feel like it belonged to her, and she’d always be squinting and running a hand down it, searching for the first spiderwebs that’re bound to show.
Even this blade, imperfect as her job has been, she knows where to push it and where to hold it back because she’s shaped its strength as much as its ruin. It’s better now, sharper than when she began, but surely there’s some damage to the metal edge that the smith would never have granted. It requires a feel she’s less practiced with, and a consistancy she has never been able to maintain in her life, to keep the angle and the pressure and the drag just right. It’s close enough to suit her needs though, as the nicks in her nail will attest, and that’ll do just fine.
Lifting the blade off the whetstone, Colt’s gaze swings from it to Flora with a wry expression at the suggestion. ”Right along when I’ve tamed a pegasus,” she huffs. Satisfied with the new bite to what had been dull before, Colt slides the knife back between her boot and pant leg. ”Yeah, that’s life,” a real bitch, as Flora promptly goes on to explain.
Watching Flora fully as she offers up some parts of the places she’s been burned, if not so literally, Colt knows there’s the recognition of suffering and the strength needed to endure it in the tragedies she lists off. Proof, that her words carry more weight than something pretty to give in place of having nothing else. A show of friendship, or understanding, of wanting to fix what should never have been set askew. If only being understood properly meant it also made it all hurt less, but all it does is show everyone’s hurting a little bit, in their own way. A comfort, in some fashion.
Colt nods, not interrupting the point Flora is making, but holding it on the keep of her breath, letting it settle. ”I don’t think things ever hurt less,” she says after a moment, quieter than she means as she pulls on a deeper vein of thought. ”Think we all just learn how to adjust to it, same as a three-legged dog still runs.” The pain becomes the new normal, and every day it feels like it’s fading, it’s just the body shifting around it. A pause, briefly considering, before she leans in a touch over the fold of her legs on the seat. ”You’re very good at hiding your limp, you know,” she murmurs, and there’s praise in that observation. ”Wish I had that down half as good as you do.” Her smile creeps in slow and honest. She’s only ever turned hers around, kicking with every stride like that’s what it takes now to step.
Glancing away briefly, letting the moment pass and bleed away into the next scream the sky lets loose, Colt’s attention swings back around at the question. ”Yeah, I’ve got a new wall I’m considering leaning into.” An untested one, but she’s certain it won’t budge so easy. She blows a breath up into her hair out of the corner of her mouth though, almost a sign of ancitipated exasperation. Almost. ”Won’t give up ranching, not yet, not entirely.” It’s got too much of her heart, and it’s familiar enough that it’s easier than some other things, even when it’s at it’s hardest, like now. Smaller though, so easier to manage now too. ”But in an effort not to burn again, I’m considering…” Her lips quirk to the side, and she chews on the thought for a moment.
Aside from Deimos and Wyatt, she hasn’t told anyone else yet, and while she doesn’t bank on the approval of Flora, there’s no denying the queen’s slew of accomplishments. If she plucks it apart, Colt just might be limping for a few weeks longer. Glancing up for something like reassurance in those sea glass eyes, Colt sighs, and there’s courage in that defeat. Something lowering, because if she’s already on the ground, what’s the loss of the last things she owns—her defenses. ”I’ve been through Hak Etme before, and I think it has potential to be more than it is.” She holds that out there for a beat before continuing. ”Suvahasi’s gotta have enough water to support that much plant life, so could be a place worth making a home. Just enough feed for ranching, and nothing so liable to burn.” A small shrug, like this is all just a fantasy and not the thing that’s begun to keep her up at night as she turns it over to look at every angle. ”Those plants could be worth harvesting and making a business out of. Maybe more, once I get some footing in place.”
Even this blade, imperfect as her job has been, she knows where to push it and where to hold it back because she’s shaped its strength as much as its ruin. It’s better now, sharper than when she began, but surely there’s some damage to the metal edge that the smith would never have granted. It requires a feel she’s less practiced with, and a consistancy she has never been able to maintain in her life, to keep the angle and the pressure and the drag just right. It’s close enough to suit her needs though, as the nicks in her nail will attest, and that’ll do just fine.
Lifting the blade off the whetstone, Colt’s gaze swings from it to Flora with a wry expression at the suggestion. ”Right along when I’ve tamed a pegasus,” she huffs. Satisfied with the new bite to what had been dull before, Colt slides the knife back between her boot and pant leg. ”Yeah, that’s life,” a real bitch, as Flora promptly goes on to explain.
Watching Flora fully as she offers up some parts of the places she’s been burned, if not so literally, Colt knows there’s the recognition of suffering and the strength needed to endure it in the tragedies she lists off. Proof, that her words carry more weight than something pretty to give in place of having nothing else. A show of friendship, or understanding, of wanting to fix what should never have been set askew. If only being understood properly meant it also made it all hurt less, but all it does is show everyone’s hurting a little bit, in their own way. A comfort, in some fashion.
Colt nods, not interrupting the point Flora is making, but holding it on the keep of her breath, letting it settle. ”I don’t think things ever hurt less,” she says after a moment, quieter than she means as she pulls on a deeper vein of thought. ”Think we all just learn how to adjust to it, same as a three-legged dog still runs.” The pain becomes the new normal, and every day it feels like it’s fading, it’s just the body shifting around it. A pause, briefly considering, before she leans in a touch over the fold of her legs on the seat. ”You’re very good at hiding your limp, you know,” she murmurs, and there’s praise in that observation. ”Wish I had that down half as good as you do.” Her smile creeps in slow and honest. She’s only ever turned hers around, kicking with every stride like that’s what it takes now to step.
Glancing away briefly, letting the moment pass and bleed away into the next scream the sky lets loose, Colt’s attention swings back around at the question. ”Yeah, I’ve got a new wall I’m considering leaning into.” An untested one, but she’s certain it won’t budge so easy. She blows a breath up into her hair out of the corner of her mouth though, almost a sign of ancitipated exasperation. Almost. ”Won’t give up ranching, not yet, not entirely.” It’s got too much of her heart, and it’s familiar enough that it’s easier than some other things, even when it’s at it’s hardest, like now. Smaller though, so easier to manage now too. ”But in an effort not to burn again, I’m considering…” Her lips quirk to the side, and she chews on the thought for a moment.
Aside from Deimos and Wyatt, she hasn’t told anyone else yet, and while she doesn’t bank on the approval of Flora, there’s no denying the queen’s slew of accomplishments. If she plucks it apart, Colt just might be limping for a few weeks longer. Glancing up for something like reassurance in those sea glass eyes, Colt sighs, and there’s courage in that defeat. Something lowering, because if she’s already on the ground, what’s the loss of the last things she owns—her defenses. ”I’ve been through Hak Etme before, and I think it has potential to be more than it is.” She holds that out there for a beat before continuing. ”Suvahasi’s gotta have enough water to support that much plant life, so could be a place worth making a home. Just enough feed for ranching, and nothing so liable to burn.” A small shrug, like this is all just a fantasy and not the thing that’s begun to keep her up at night as she turns it over to look at every angle. ”Those plants could be worth harvesting and making a business out of. Maybe more, once I get some footing in place.”
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.
