COLT
He looks like a cool drink of water
But he's candy-coated misery
He's the devil in disguise
A snake with blue eyes
But he's candy-coated misery
He's the devil in disguise
A snake with blue eyes
She shoots him a sidelong glance, the movement brief and full of a certain quiet regard. She’s trying to understand the shape of this man, once stranger not long ago, and now readily risking himself every time she sees him. ”You keep offering hands to gator hunts and you might lose one,” Colt huffs out, the tease light. ”Twice now you’ve been helpful to people you barely know. Risking yourself even.” Her brows lift, a small part of her wondering if he has a death wish or maybe needs the thrill of danger. He doesn’t strike her as the sort though, but his altruism is an abnormal find. ”Or am I just lucky?”
Shifting the weight of what she carries as they continue their walk, the ground smoothing as they crest some incline, Colt hears the soft way he tugs back at her. It’s gentle, like knuckles barely rapping on a closed door, and Colt lifts her head at the summon. The path to this answer is well traced now, but sometimes the light hits it different, or something else has fallen in the way. Sometimes she breaks again, thinking herself steadier than she is until it comes out, the words stealing all her composure on the way. Other times, it’s so easy that it feels like maybe she’s reciting someone else’s story. Now though, it just tugs a little bit at her, ripping off another small corner until eventually she assumes she’ll be whittled down to the raw truth of her loss, and maybe then she’d know what to do with it.
Pulling in a breath like she needs to prepare, she locks eyes with the horizon ahead of them. Always simpler to tell the world than a person. ”Lost everything to a fire last season.” Seven words. Her life summarized and dissolved into bits in just seven words. She grimaces, as if expecting she should have amounted to something more grand than that. ”Animals all mostly survived, but none of the buildings or items made it.” Everything is rather literal in this case. Fire is greedy. ”I decided, instead of rebuilding just to probably burn again, I’d try for something new.” This too comes out lighter than it deserves, but she intends for that, trying not to add another weight to her pocket. ”Not really ranching again, yet, but organizing a way to build Hak Etme up into something.”
Shifting the weight of what she carries as they continue their walk, the ground smoothing as they crest some incline, Colt hears the soft way he tugs back at her. It’s gentle, like knuckles barely rapping on a closed door, and Colt lifts her head at the summon. The path to this answer is well traced now, but sometimes the light hits it different, or something else has fallen in the way. Sometimes she breaks again, thinking herself steadier than she is until it comes out, the words stealing all her composure on the way. Other times, it’s so easy that it feels like maybe she’s reciting someone else’s story. Now though, it just tugs a little bit at her, ripping off another small corner until eventually she assumes she’ll be whittled down to the raw truth of her loss, and maybe then she’d know what to do with it.
Pulling in a breath like she needs to prepare, she locks eyes with the horizon ahead of them. Always simpler to tell the world than a person. ”Lost everything to a fire last season.” Seven words. Her life summarized and dissolved into bits in just seven words. She grimaces, as if expecting she should have amounted to something more grand than that. ”Animals all mostly survived, but none of the buildings or items made it.” Everything is rather literal in this case. Fire is greedy. ”I decided, instead of rebuilding just to probably burn again, I’d try for something new.” This too comes out lighter than it deserves, but she intends for that, trying not to add another weight to her pocket. ”Not really ranching again, yet, but organizing a way to build Hak Etme up into something.”
He only comes out at night
Gives you feelings that you don't wanna fight
You better run for your life
He's a good time cowboy Casanova
Gives you feelings that you don't wanna fight
You better run for your life
He's a good time cowboy Casanova
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.
