COLT
She got smiles in a jar by the door
She likes her days better when the sun goes down
She loves the rain
She likes her days better when the sun goes down
She loves the rain
If there’s a flicker of surprise that manages to blaze through Colt’s expression, it’s one she yanks back as fast as she can, not about to give up any ground without standing on it a little longer. Still, she shifts around the weight of what Flora just offered her, making room for it among all the other truths she doesn’t like holding. For a brief moment, Colt lifts her gaze from the knife steadily being leveled at her, trying to find the one who put it in her back first. She saw the jackal among the crowd earlier, and she’s just curious now to see if she means to come up and bite her in broad daylight.
Glass clinks in her cup as Colt finishes her drink while the pretty flower with all her thorns finishes placing her own cards down. ”Must not have been thinking,” she admits with a tilt of her head, seeming to admire her newly empty glass, or perhaps mourning it, hard to say with the way she’s drawn her expression into something neutral and unimpressed. ”Because, here I thought poaching requires a little bit more than a tough and thankless job in a land that's actively trying to kill you on the daily. Especially when there’s already something sweet on hand.” One of Colt’s hands spreads out, the motion minimal, just enough to get the point across that she means all of this.
Her gaze flicks up from salted rims and souring ice, all the usual light of her smile gone from the amber that holds Flora now. Not dark, not narrowed, but focused with the sharp intent of someone watching closely to the way things shift abruptly. Normally, it’s a scattering of hooves and a ripple of muscle, but bitchy smiles are just as likely to run you down. ”All I did was give her an option. What she does with it is up to her. I'd think her friend would be happy for her to have a chance at something that might suit her, that she might want.” Colt’s brows raise faintly, as if searching for some common ground that they could at least agree on that.
”My mistake, for thinking since she lived in Stormbreak so long that your friendship didn't require proximity, or that her roots weren't laid down here yet.” Flora moves with an aggression born out of defense, a wound she’s trying to cover with bared teeth and flattened ears. Colt’s familiar. ”You sure the one you ain’t really mad at here is Sohalia and not me?” It isn’t said cruelly, but it’s flat. Flora guards her best friend like a dog with a bone. Colt’s fault, for believing in all this that Sohalia's another dog, turns out she’s just the bone being gnawed on. Flora can have her, Hak Etme's full of bones.
Glass clinks in her cup as Colt finishes her drink while the pretty flower with all her thorns finishes placing her own cards down. ”Must not have been thinking,” she admits with a tilt of her head, seeming to admire her newly empty glass, or perhaps mourning it, hard to say with the way she’s drawn her expression into something neutral and unimpressed. ”Because, here I thought poaching requires a little bit more than a tough and thankless job in a land that's actively trying to kill you on the daily. Especially when there’s already something sweet on hand.” One of Colt’s hands spreads out, the motion minimal, just enough to get the point across that she means all of this.
Her gaze flicks up from salted rims and souring ice, all the usual light of her smile gone from the amber that holds Flora now. Not dark, not narrowed, but focused with the sharp intent of someone watching closely to the way things shift abruptly. Normally, it’s a scattering of hooves and a ripple of muscle, but bitchy smiles are just as likely to run you down. ”All I did was give her an option. What she does with it is up to her. I'd think her friend would be happy for her to have a chance at something that might suit her, that she might want.” Colt’s brows raise faintly, as if searching for some common ground that they could at least agree on that.
”My mistake, for thinking since she lived in Stormbreak so long that your friendship didn't require proximity, or that her roots weren't laid down here yet.” Flora moves with an aggression born out of defense, a wound she’s trying to cover with bared teeth and flattened ears. Colt’s familiar. ”You sure the one you ain’t really mad at here is Sohalia and not me?” It isn’t said cruelly, but it’s flat. Flora guards her best friend like a dog with a bone. Colt’s fault, for believing in all this that Sohalia's another dog, turns out she’s just the bone being gnawed on. Flora can have her, Hak Etme's full of bones.
When the sky turns grey, you should see her face
She finds beauty in broken when nobody else can see
Maybe I got a shot of her seeing something in me
She finds beauty in broken when nobody else can see
Maybe I got a shot of her seeing something in me
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.
