COLT
We can love just like rain
One drop too much and we'll drown
Wishin' I would be enough, 'cause I don't wanna lose
One drop too much and we'll drown
Wishin' I would be enough, 'cause I don't wanna lose
His assurance doesn't land, not entirely at first, as her skepticism remains plain on her face. It's a relief, truly, but she's wary of accepting it so readily, and the prickling heat of shame once she'd realized everyone knew about the disagreement is slow to leave her after rushing in so thoroughly. "Oh," she says quietly, smile tilting in faintly as her grip loosens in the fabric. She trusts him, harder as that's proving to be to claim with anyone, but he'd always proven to be there for her when she needed it, even when it got hard. It's that, more than anything, that reassures her now that he'd have no reason to lie when he never had before. It's easy to get along with most anyone when she's in a good mood, but it's her sour ones that turn most away, and that's always when she needs someone to stay the most, and they never do.
"Yeah, that's not surprising," she exhales, and some of the fresh tension goes with it. Enough so that her body bends again and she flops sideways into the open space on the bed, hair spilling all around her and bouncing up faintly before settling. She pulls it out from under her and gathers it up and away. "Was anyone sad?" she wonders, feigning a shrug as she settles, as if the answer is of no real significance to her despite her asking.
Though her gaze lifts from the rumple of sheets to his eyes, holding him there with her expectant stare as she shifts onto her side. One arm slides beneath the pillow and under her head, while the other smooths out the space between them, curling just under her chin. Not quite fetal position, her legs less tucked than that, she is nonetheless folded into the conversation with him, the comfort of a bed bowing around her nicely. "Did he say what he's doing, with my—" she catches herself, swallowing back and trying again. "With the land, that burned?"
"Yeah, that's not surprising," she exhales, and some of the fresh tension goes with it. Enough so that her body bends again and she flops sideways into the open space on the bed, hair spilling all around her and bouncing up faintly before settling. She pulls it out from under her and gathers it up and away. "Was anyone sad?" she wonders, feigning a shrug as she settles, as if the answer is of no real significance to her despite her asking.
Though her gaze lifts from the rumple of sheets to his eyes, holding him there with her expectant stare as she shifts onto her side. One arm slides beneath the pillow and under her head, while the other smooths out the space between them, curling just under her chin. Not quite fetal position, her legs less tucked than that, she is nonetheless folded into the conversation with him, the comfort of a bed bowing around her nicely. "Did he say what he's doing, with my—" she catches herself, swallowing back and trying again. "With the land, that burned?"
Nothing makes sense when you're gone, I need you around
I will love you like the stars love to shoot
And shadows love the moon
I will love you like the stars love to shoot
And shadows love the moon
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.
