Colt
Love's just one of them words
That gets thrown around
So I ain't gonna say it, no I ain't gonna lie
If you were my last breath, I'd just wanna hold ya
That gets thrown around
So I ain't gonna say it, no I ain't gonna lie
If you were my last breath, I'd just wanna hold ya
Thal's humor lands a little awkwardly for Colt's tastes. She's not the kind to go along with being called out for something that isn't true. Talk shit all you like, however uncomfortable the truth, so long as it's true. That, or poke such obvious fun that the lie is too blatant. This hits the mark somewhere in between, because Colt does enjoy Thal's company, usually, but she can't reason that she's relied on her more than most, and being told she uses people too often and is selfish, it salts old wounds. A pettier side of Colt is inclined to show Thal just how 'obsessed' she is by never calling on the ancient again. Fortunately, her brows do all the talking for her before she can lodge her booth between her teeth, and by the time she's processed the remark fully, the mirage has well and truly stolen her entire focus.
With the command to flee as much on her voice as in her bones, Colt carries them at a breakneck pace until her ribs develop a stitch and she's forced to slow out of thicker landscape and withering endurance. Gasping for breath, she releases the lock on Thal's hand, lifting one arm over her head and sitting it there to stretch out her side while the other hand fights with the vines. Her charcoal-lined bandana flutters in and out with the sharp, demanding breaths she takes. "Fly us out, in this thick jungle?" Colt asks a bit disbelieving, shooting a glance towards Thal that's near exasperated. She might not know all of Thal's shapes or tricks, and certainly her mind doesn't jump to the potentials of magics and shifts when she herself has none to rely on, but she doubts the vines and tree canopies would have leaned away with eager hospitality for a larger, aerial shape being born among them. "Well, we made it free just fine. Nasty things, mirage crabs." Colt says with a sigh, getting her lungs better under control. "They trick people easily and they're extremely strong. They tend to sit and wait, but it was too close for comfort." She'd prefer to run than be taught how hungry that particular predator had been.
"At any rate," she says more easily now, her hand slipping off her head to her hip. "We made good time now, and that's the actual watering hole ahead where the grouse gather." Colt's pace slows to a more deliberate creep, her hands reaching back to gather her bow and a sharpened arrow in preparation for their quiet approach to take any birds already present by surprise.
With the command to flee as much on her voice as in her bones, Colt carries them at a breakneck pace until her ribs develop a stitch and she's forced to slow out of thicker landscape and withering endurance. Gasping for breath, she releases the lock on Thal's hand, lifting one arm over her head and sitting it there to stretch out her side while the other hand fights with the vines. Her charcoal-lined bandana flutters in and out with the sharp, demanding breaths she takes. "Fly us out, in this thick jungle?" Colt asks a bit disbelieving, shooting a glance towards Thal that's near exasperated. She might not know all of Thal's shapes or tricks, and certainly her mind doesn't jump to the potentials of magics and shifts when she herself has none to rely on, but she doubts the vines and tree canopies would have leaned away with eager hospitality for a larger, aerial shape being born among them. "Well, we made it free just fine. Nasty things, mirage crabs." Colt says with a sigh, getting her lungs better under control. "They trick people easily and they're extremely strong. They tend to sit and wait, but it was too close for comfort." She'd prefer to run than be taught how hungry that particular predator had been.
"At any rate," she says more easily now, her hand slipping off her head to her hip. "We made good time now, and that's the actual watering hole ahead where the grouse gather." Colt's pace slows to a more deliberate creep, her hands reaching back to gather her bow and a sharpened arrow in preparation for their quiet approach to take any birds already present by surprise.
If you were my last shot of whiskey
I'd press you to my lips, take a little sip
Swirl you around and around and around
Then I'd shoot ya down
I'd press you to my lips, take a little sip
Swirl you around and around and around
Then I'd shoot ya down
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.
