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
A laugh loosens from the expectant press of her lips as she pauses for effect with the meat exchange. Her wig hair catches the firelight, shimmering as she shakes her head in answer to the question she knows is only half asked, half offered for her to continue. "It eats everything." The correction is laid out with the low current of breath always reserved for things that are too big or terrifying to shout around, so are instead urgently whispered.
"In one sweep of its tongue it can eat ten men, and its croak is so horrific to hear that it drives animals mad with the desire to flee. Once tamed beasts scurry off into the wilds, never seen again." Her gaze watches the fire that Thal manipulates effortlessly, though behind her eyes the giant visage of the world-eating toad plays out. "He is terrible," Colt goes on, one hand shaping her story with her. "But... he is also very dimwitted." Her teeth flash in the firelight with a grin. "He needs only to be tricked into feeling full, and he'll settle back into the ground again."
She has long stopped believing in this tale. Barely did so as a young girl, too skeptical after falling for the tricks of other stories and jokes, her embarrassment on full display then. Yet there's no denying that this current weather pattern is well suited to awakening the mountainous toad. Luckily, they are not near King's End. "It still requires some bravery, to get close enough," she asserts, and at her feet she kicks over some small stones and old burnt things. "The town would gather up a bunch of stones and straw and things they no longer wanted, arrange them to look like men or creatures with heads and arms and legs, painted on faces, and lure the toad towards where they lay like a buffet." Colt's legs suddenly sweep around the little things she'd been moving over, kicking them behind her, the soft thunks peppering the log she sits on. "Then gulp, he'd eat them all up, and have no more room for anyone alive. He'd hop away, laden down and thinking himself content, and fall asleep once again."
A story about being wary of what is so freely given, or what appears too good to be true, if one empathizes with the toad. A fable of surviving what feels like impossible odds with a bit of thinking and teamwork, if one aligns with the villagers. A demonstration that things aren't always what they seem, even mountains. Colt doesn't really know the point, but she's always like that one in particular. "Of course, this was only learned after years and years of battling with the toad's appetite. It'd be easy for anyone to turn to ritualistic sacrifice instead, and there's likely a reason why he prefers to eat the shape of men over cow even after all that time... certainly makes all the graves there make sense."
"In one sweep of its tongue it can eat ten men, and its croak is so horrific to hear that it drives animals mad with the desire to flee. Once tamed beasts scurry off into the wilds, never seen again." Her gaze watches the fire that Thal manipulates effortlessly, though behind her eyes the giant visage of the world-eating toad plays out. "He is terrible," Colt goes on, one hand shaping her story with her. "But... he is also very dimwitted." Her teeth flash in the firelight with a grin. "He needs only to be tricked into feeling full, and he'll settle back into the ground again."
She has long stopped believing in this tale. Barely did so as a young girl, too skeptical after falling for the tricks of other stories and jokes, her embarrassment on full display then. Yet there's no denying that this current weather pattern is well suited to awakening the mountainous toad. Luckily, they are not near King's End. "It still requires some bravery, to get close enough," she asserts, and at her feet she kicks over some small stones and old burnt things. "The town would gather up a bunch of stones and straw and things they no longer wanted, arrange them to look like men or creatures with heads and arms and legs, painted on faces, and lure the toad towards where they lay like a buffet." Colt's legs suddenly sweep around the little things she'd been moving over, kicking them behind her, the soft thunks peppering the log she sits on. "Then gulp, he'd eat them all up, and have no more room for anyone alive. He'd hop away, laden down and thinking himself content, and fall asleep once again."
A story about being wary of what is so freely given, or what appears too good to be true, if one empathizes with the toad. A fable of surviving what feels like impossible odds with a bit of thinking and teamwork, if one aligns with the villagers. A demonstration that things aren't always what they seem, even mountains. Colt doesn't really know the point, but she's always like that one in particular. "Of course, this was only learned after years and years of battling with the toad's appetite. It'd be easy for anyone to turn to ritualistic sacrifice instead, and there's likely a reason why he prefers to eat the shape of men over cow even after all that time... certainly makes all the graves there make sense."
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.
