Colt
Cold nights, a sleight of hand
No trace of innocence, long gone, long gone
I've been tangled up, I've been wrangling up heathens
I've been double-cupped neck-up in the deep end
No trace of innocence, long gone, long gone
I've been tangled up, I've been wrangling up heathens
I've been double-cupped neck-up in the deep end
If Hotaru dims once they step out of the caverns, Colt doesn’t seem to register it, such is the glow about her right now that has nothing to do with Frey’s touch. Perhaps not so literal, it still lingers in Colt’s perception of the Valkyrie, a bright spot she didn’t expect when so much has gone lackluster. A shame she never got to know the demigod better before this, maybe she’d have had another friend down the road, if the current state is anything to go by. Instead, she’d seen her from a distance, known in a way that offers no substance, each of them busy in their own worlds until those broke apart.
A long sigh that speaks to more suffering than this moment deserves winds out of Colt. This is not the first try it, you’ll love it that she’s endured, and she regards the drink extended out to her with a smidge of disdain. It slants her expression into one side of her face, head tipping with it like a dog assessing a sound it can’t place. The look she gives the gin-based beverage is all assumption and distrust, but when she lifts her amber stare from it back to Hotaru, the intent to rise to the challenge is clear. ”In my experience, one love is plenty of trouble,” she murmurs, exhale rippling the surface of the drink as she leans in.
Her hands lift, curling around the bottom of the glass, fingers brushing Hotaru’s where they crowd around the drink. The gesture is less about the uncertainty of the drink’s position and more the habit of holding, unaccustomed to sipping from what’s held aloft. She manages it though, tongue swiping a taste of the rim before tipping in with a slurp and a taste. One eye pinches shut immediately, and a shudder rolls through her without any modicum of control as she swallows her trial.
”Awful,” she declares, thumb and forefinger pinching away the wetness from her lip as she retreats from the edge of the glass. Shaking her head like it could disperse the aftertaste, she reaches for the reposado right as it’s placed down. In a ceremony too practiced to delay, Colt licks the top of her thumb, salts it with the counter’s shaker, holds up her shot in a miniature air-toast, then tongues the salt free and takes her shot. The glass clicks twice on the counter as she sets it down, sliding its empty container away. ”Much better.”
It’s the exact kick she needs to launch into her sorry state of affairs, lips twitching in response to the sympathy offered, never great at letting it land. The change Hotaru had made before had left a subtle ripple in her, adjusting to the new image of what she thought she knew, a known trait but not so freely seen with their lack of close acquaintance. Now that she watches it happen in real time, shades pulling back like ink being siphoned out, Colt only finds a certain comfort in it. It almost feels like watching someone be honest, which is usually more guess than anything half the time.
Brushing past the sorries and the things lost, not intending to dwell, least of all right now, Colt focuses on what lies ahead now. ”No,” she hums, head shaking faintly, gold shifting over her shoulders. ”I’m here on business. Selling most of the ranch stock, to downsize. Then…” She inhales, straightening up a touch, a preparation for bracing which she does without even noticing. ”Heading to Hak Etme.” A beat, a laugh, as if approval for Hotaru to do it too, proof that she knows how it sounds even as she continues to say it. ”I’m going to try turning it into something. I’ve been before, and it has something I think, if anyone would take the time to polish it up.” She shrugs a shoulder, the motion trying to keep the idea light, to make herself ridiculous before anyone else can.
”There’s a certain beauty to wild things that resist being tamed. You gotta fight to work alongside them, to find your footing, and that seems like a place I’d like to figure out. Plus, could be good trade with some of it’s more…peculiar plants. Might even make my millions running a casino there.” Her grin races out as she reaches for her margarita, hiding the smile behind the rim as she takes a sip. ”If I succeed, maybe I could hire you as a bouncer?” Something lighter, a reminder of what they’ve shared, if this threatens to steal it away so soon.
A long sigh that speaks to more suffering than this moment deserves winds out of Colt. This is not the first try it, you’ll love it that she’s endured, and she regards the drink extended out to her with a smidge of disdain. It slants her expression into one side of her face, head tipping with it like a dog assessing a sound it can’t place. The look she gives the gin-based beverage is all assumption and distrust, but when she lifts her amber stare from it back to Hotaru, the intent to rise to the challenge is clear. ”In my experience, one love is plenty of trouble,” she murmurs, exhale rippling the surface of the drink as she leans in.
Her hands lift, curling around the bottom of the glass, fingers brushing Hotaru’s where they crowd around the drink. The gesture is less about the uncertainty of the drink’s position and more the habit of holding, unaccustomed to sipping from what’s held aloft. She manages it though, tongue swiping a taste of the rim before tipping in with a slurp and a taste. One eye pinches shut immediately, and a shudder rolls through her without any modicum of control as she swallows her trial.
”Awful,” she declares, thumb and forefinger pinching away the wetness from her lip as she retreats from the edge of the glass. Shaking her head like it could disperse the aftertaste, she reaches for the reposado right as it’s placed down. In a ceremony too practiced to delay, Colt licks the top of her thumb, salts it with the counter’s shaker, holds up her shot in a miniature air-toast, then tongues the salt free and takes her shot. The glass clicks twice on the counter as she sets it down, sliding its empty container away. ”Much better.”
It’s the exact kick she needs to launch into her sorry state of affairs, lips twitching in response to the sympathy offered, never great at letting it land. The change Hotaru had made before had left a subtle ripple in her, adjusting to the new image of what she thought she knew, a known trait but not so freely seen with their lack of close acquaintance. Now that she watches it happen in real time, shades pulling back like ink being siphoned out, Colt only finds a certain comfort in it. It almost feels like watching someone be honest, which is usually more guess than anything half the time.
Brushing past the sorries and the things lost, not intending to dwell, least of all right now, Colt focuses on what lies ahead now. ”No,” she hums, head shaking faintly, gold shifting over her shoulders. ”I’m here on business. Selling most of the ranch stock, to downsize. Then…” She inhales, straightening up a touch, a preparation for bracing which she does without even noticing. ”Heading to Hak Etme.” A beat, a laugh, as if approval for Hotaru to do it too, proof that she knows how it sounds even as she continues to say it. ”I’m going to try turning it into something. I’ve been before, and it has something I think, if anyone would take the time to polish it up.” She shrugs a shoulder, the motion trying to keep the idea light, to make herself ridiculous before anyone else can.
”There’s a certain beauty to wild things that resist being tamed. You gotta fight to work alongside them, to find your footing, and that seems like a place I’d like to figure out. Plus, could be good trade with some of it’s more…peculiar plants. Might even make my millions running a casino there.” Her grin races out as she reaches for her margarita, hiding the smile behind the rim as she takes a sip. ”If I succeed, maybe I could hire you as a bouncer?” Something lighter, a reminder of what they’ve shared, if this threatens to steal it away so soon.
They all know it's the wrong road
But they still go, they still go
Fucking long days getting longer
And the dark days getting darker
But they still go, they still go
Fucking long days getting longer
And the dark days getting darker
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.
