COLT
My clothes still smell like smoke
Your name's still in my throat
But the glow ain't worth the burn that loving leaves
Your name's still in my throat
But the glow ain't worth the burn that loving leaves
At the word of their guide, a tall and lanky man who’s dressed all tawny in flowing fabric, only his eyes open from the mask tied around his mouth and over his head, Colt presses into the jungle alongside Marcus. ”They said don’t miss,” she says with a grin, and although her mask covers the shape of it, the reach extends into the crinkle and devilish gleam in her eye when she looks across at him.
She ducks under vines and extends her stride over logs, shuffling past mossy rocks and skirting away from particularly nasty looking flora that seems to turn with them as they move. ”Seriously though, they said the birds fly in very strange patterns when startled. And they’re fast, so we gotta be faster. We all take aim at once, a different one each, and fire together. Surprise is how we be faster.”
The scent of charcoal competes with the hot reek of the jungle. It’s a mixture of something overly sweet and an undercurrent of rot, both plant and animal, she’s sure. ”Although if we miss, they said they’re fairly dumb and will return if we’re still and patient.” She snorts, because that about lines up with her belief in birds too. Ahead, their guide points to an overly bright flower, a hand signal telling them to be careful not to bump it, their charcoal not a catch all for condensed toxins.
She ducks under vines and extends her stride over logs, shuffling past mossy rocks and skirting away from particularly nasty looking flora that seems to turn with them as they move. ”Seriously though, they said the birds fly in very strange patterns when startled. And they’re fast, so we gotta be faster. We all take aim at once, a different one each, and fire together. Surprise is how we be faster.”
The scent of charcoal competes with the hot reek of the jungle. It’s a mixture of something overly sweet and an undercurrent of rot, both plant and animal, she’s sure. ”Although if we miss, they said they’re fairly dumb and will return if we’re still and patient.” She snorts, because that about lines up with her belief in birds too. Ahead, their guide points to an overly bright flower, a hand signal telling them to be careful not to bump it, their charcoal not a catch all for condensed toxins.
When fire meets gasoline
Lights you up quick but you can't control the heat
It burns bright but damn you lose everything
We only ever end up ashes on the breeze
Lights you up quick but you can't control the heat
It burns bright but damn you lose everything
We only ever end up ashes on the breeze
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.
