COLT
Always comes back around to simple things
A song you know from the past coming on
A drink in your glass at the end of the day
A song you know from the past coming on
A drink in your glass at the end of the day
Although he doesn’t ask her too in any manner of his response, she still does her best to hide the open display of something still trying to heal. Even she isn’t sure which she prefers, the open indifference, suggesting there’s no shame to crying, that it’s as ordinary and as acceptable as any other expression. Or the quiet privacy afforded by turning away, to let someone fall apart and pick themselves back up on their own time, without the pressure of a gaze and all the unsaid things that sit behind it. Her answer would change on any given day, maybe a few times in the same one. Today, now, she’s grateful that he just sits with it alongside her, patient in a way so few are. He’s about the equivalent of Caido’s tissue though, having soaked up and listened to many a tear fall.
The chance to let it breathe for a moment allows her to push it back down, like the grief just needed a new lungful of air before descending for another span of time where she could imagine she’s over it and fine. Sniffling once, a betrayal of composure, she keys in on what he says instead of what she feels, and tries not to let the two blend too closely. ”Do you feel the space where all those pieces were, or do they fill in with something new?” She genuinely doesn’t know. Is the loss like a limb, or a cut? Is he missing part of himself, or is he made into something more than he ever would have been in one spot? Maybe it could be both.
Her head tilts up when he answers her with a truth she can appreciate. One she expected, even. Her gaze leaves him to trail the edge of thoughts, ever floating somewhere above. ”I could always start over in King’s End. Or somewhere more established.” She’s talking to him, although it hardly seems it, this conversation one she’s said aloud plenty, as if reasoning it out with fate. ”Might be smarter. Might regret it less.” She glances back towards him suddenly, mouth pursed over breath, it’s steady inhaled taken before she continues. ”Might regret it more, too.” That’s where it’s a gamble, even if she never meant to place any bets.
A shrug then, removing the weight like it’s always been a choice. ”Guess I’ll find out.” She’d not be trying to do both, of that she’s certain. Really, has already set her path, and it doesn’t seem worth glancing back anymore, not unless she always intends to hold knives at their tip.
She slides into the humor easy. She wants it to be. ”Although I’m sure he deserves it,” she hums, lips twitching as her head tilts, angling the way things settle inside her with the motion. ”I rather had in mind something more…artistic.” Remi might find Ronin’s nude body to be a piece of art, but Colt could do without such a cockadoodle do every morning.. ”A horse maybe. Could be his dragon form even.” Her laugh flutters light and simple again, as if there’d never been a hiccup. ”Maybe he crafts his likeness and carts it home to you. I’ll suggest that next I see him.”
Straightening a touch as he gets into the trenches of his work, craning to see around him and watch. She knows better than to offer help with no strength to it, so she does the best thing she can and stays out of his way, providing no distractions. It’s fascinating, watching him so casually work with the weight and the heat.
When he finishes, her eyes are alight with the wonder of it. Blinking away the wide frame of them as she runs a free hand through the wig hair. It teases through her fingers easy and falls back in small strands against her shoulder. Sipping at the liquid celebration once more, she swings the topic away from herself, aware that they’ve barely scratched the surface of his reasons for the drink. ”Well, I’ve talked far too much about myself. Tell me about your boys. What’re their names?”
The chance to let it breathe for a moment allows her to push it back down, like the grief just needed a new lungful of air before descending for another span of time where she could imagine she’s over it and fine. Sniffling once, a betrayal of composure, she keys in on what he says instead of what she feels, and tries not to let the two blend too closely. ”Do you feel the space where all those pieces were, or do they fill in with something new?” She genuinely doesn’t know. Is the loss like a limb, or a cut? Is he missing part of himself, or is he made into something more than he ever would have been in one spot? Maybe it could be both.
Her head tilts up when he answers her with a truth she can appreciate. One she expected, even. Her gaze leaves him to trail the edge of thoughts, ever floating somewhere above. ”I could always start over in King’s End. Or somewhere more established.” She’s talking to him, although it hardly seems it, this conversation one she’s said aloud plenty, as if reasoning it out with fate. ”Might be smarter. Might regret it less.” She glances back towards him suddenly, mouth pursed over breath, it’s steady inhaled taken before she continues. ”Might regret it more, too.” That’s where it’s a gamble, even if she never meant to place any bets.
A shrug then, removing the weight like it’s always been a choice. ”Guess I’ll find out.” She’d not be trying to do both, of that she’s certain. Really, has already set her path, and it doesn’t seem worth glancing back anymore, not unless she always intends to hold knives at their tip.
She slides into the humor easy. She wants it to be. ”Although I’m sure he deserves it,” she hums, lips twitching as her head tilts, angling the way things settle inside her with the motion. ”I rather had in mind something more…artistic.” Remi might find Ronin’s nude body to be a piece of art, but Colt could do without such a cockadoodle do every morning.. ”A horse maybe. Could be his dragon form even.” Her laugh flutters light and simple again, as if there’d never been a hiccup. ”Maybe he crafts his likeness and carts it home to you. I’ll suggest that next I see him.”
Straightening a touch as he gets into the trenches of his work, craning to see around him and watch. She knows better than to offer help with no strength to it, so she does the best thing she can and stays out of his way, providing no distractions. It’s fascinating, watching him so casually work with the weight and the heat.
When he finishes, her eyes are alight with the wonder of it. Blinking away the wide frame of them as she runs a free hand through the wig hair. It teases through her fingers easy and falls back in small strands against her shoulder. Sipping at the liquid celebration once more, she swings the topic away from herself, aware that they’ve barely scratched the surface of his reasons for the drink. ”Well, I’ve talked far too much about myself. Tell me about your boys. What’re their names?”
It's the sound of the rain coming down
It's a call from a friend that you love
All the time you can waste
Trying to chase what you'll never need
It's a call from a friend that you love
All the time you can waste
Trying to chase what you'll never need
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.
