COLT
Well life's got a lot of sticks and stones
And a blade that'll cut you to the bone
But if you're doing what you love and it kills you
Well, you can live with that all day long
And a blade that'll cut you to the bone
But if you're doing what you love and it kills you
Well, you can live with that all day long
She's not even wearing a crown yet, but just the shadow of it descending upon her head comes with an unexpected weight. She had never set out for the desert with any attempt to rule, not beyond her own life anyway, but she also knows there's no way around it. Complaining about the chafing of the reins in her hands after asking to have them is a worthwhile reason to be tossed off entirely. Though a little oil could do the leather and her hands some good.
Lips press together in a line that's shaped in disapproval, though it's not aimed at Mel. There's sense to the things the Honeybee says, and given how swiftly and bluntly she says them, Colt doubts there's been any doctoring to the thoughts before they made it to the tongue. "They drew on me first," Colt mutters, though she fidgets in place beneath the discomfort of what now bears holes after all the smoke has cleared. First hardly matters here, and she knows it, but if she's going to be accused of fighting fire with fire, she wants it known at least she hadn't been the only one lighting matches. When has first or fairness ever really mattered, though? It's always who's still standing and what's been done, and she'd been firmly blazing alone at the party in front of everyone.
Colt's gaze slinks away like a dog that's apologetic for growling. Knowing the aftermath, the political position that Flora had hurled at her back as she walked away, she wishes it had gone differently now. Just like with Sunjata, an argument that's grown stale, but is still lodged in her chest with the ache. Things she's not just lost, but flung away, which had been fine enough when it'd been just nameless men for the night. She's done it to allies now though, as if attempting to prove she can stand alone, despite never wanting to, and worse, not being able to. The rigidity of her pride and the teeth she bares above her wounds have defended her countless times, but it seems she's lost the ability to discern what manner of hand is reaching for her, deciding them all harmful just to be safe.
Snorting in response to Mel's shaping of Sohalia, the image of how niceties can still comes with barbs, Colt's focus swings back. "If only I'd known as much before opening my mouth," Colt grunts, shifting in her lean against the boat edge. She regrets offering Sohalia any position at all, when it's clear to her now how little she knew the woman after all. Unfortunately, regretting is not in and of itself an erasure, more the lesson on using pencil over pen for the next time.
That Mel admits she probably should have told Flora, Colt's head tilts, her gaze angling up a bit sideways from her hat's edge. She's genuinely curious as to why. She's had ranch hands come and go plenty, and some she's been sad about. Maybe not the same as friends, she pays them after all, but still a personal loss at the end of the day. She tries to consider if Thorn were ever given cause to leave because of someone else, if she would feel this same sting of betrayal that Flora seems to. It keeps coming back though that she'd feel that way towards the person going, not the person offering, and even then a quiet understanding that people need to do what's best for them. On the other hand... if someone took her favorite horse for a ride without talking to her, she'd be furious, and she'd not blame the horse. An imperfect metaphor, she thinks, unless Flora truly does consider Soh her's in the way Colt does a beast. An individual still, sure, but hers. Is that the label of best friend, a set of reins?
"So," Colt starts, working over the idea, evidently of such a different mindset that this is a new perspective to squint across. Maybe Colt's just never had a good enough friend. Thorn comes the closest, but it sounds like it still doesn't compare. Then again Sunjata also said he wanted to end things after losing Nate, and she's never felt that before either. Often accused of feeling far too much, Colt is wondering how she's still unable to feel enough in some situations. Maybe all she knows how to feel properly is anger. "You think the slight is specific to Sohalia?" Best friend, Flora had said, had stressed. Not reasonable Mel says, and that's perhaps the first foothold Colt can grab onto here. "Upset that her best friend might be leaving her, but doesn't want to be mad at her friend, so turns it on me, instead?" Choosing a place to put a feeling, even if it isn't right, that Colt can understand. "Or is it just, customary to be polite enough to tell leaders that you've offered someone from their region a rank? Particularly someone they know." A social misstep, however much sense it makes, is another thing she could understand doing wrong. She's no etiquette beyond her ranch and home, and every leader rules a bit differently, is her understanding.
Lips press together in a line that's shaped in disapproval, though it's not aimed at Mel. There's sense to the things the Honeybee says, and given how swiftly and bluntly she says them, Colt doubts there's been any doctoring to the thoughts before they made it to the tongue. "They drew on me first," Colt mutters, though she fidgets in place beneath the discomfort of what now bears holes after all the smoke has cleared. First hardly matters here, and she knows it, but if she's going to be accused of fighting fire with fire, she wants it known at least she hadn't been the only one lighting matches. When has first or fairness ever really mattered, though? It's always who's still standing and what's been done, and she'd been firmly blazing alone at the party in front of everyone.
Colt's gaze slinks away like a dog that's apologetic for growling. Knowing the aftermath, the political position that Flora had hurled at her back as she walked away, she wishes it had gone differently now. Just like with Sunjata, an argument that's grown stale, but is still lodged in her chest with the ache. Things she's not just lost, but flung away, which had been fine enough when it'd been just nameless men for the night. She's done it to allies now though, as if attempting to prove she can stand alone, despite never wanting to, and worse, not being able to. The rigidity of her pride and the teeth she bares above her wounds have defended her countless times, but it seems she's lost the ability to discern what manner of hand is reaching for her, deciding them all harmful just to be safe.
Snorting in response to Mel's shaping of Sohalia, the image of how niceties can still comes with barbs, Colt's focus swings back. "If only I'd known as much before opening my mouth," Colt grunts, shifting in her lean against the boat edge. She regrets offering Sohalia any position at all, when it's clear to her now how little she knew the woman after all. Unfortunately, regretting is not in and of itself an erasure, more the lesson on using pencil over pen for the next time.
That Mel admits she probably should have told Flora, Colt's head tilts, her gaze angling up a bit sideways from her hat's edge. She's genuinely curious as to why. She's had ranch hands come and go plenty, and some she's been sad about. Maybe not the same as friends, she pays them after all, but still a personal loss at the end of the day. She tries to consider if Thorn were ever given cause to leave because of someone else, if she would feel this same sting of betrayal that Flora seems to. It keeps coming back though that she'd feel that way towards the person going, not the person offering, and even then a quiet understanding that people need to do what's best for them. On the other hand... if someone took her favorite horse for a ride without talking to her, she'd be furious, and she'd not blame the horse. An imperfect metaphor, she thinks, unless Flora truly does consider Soh her's in the way Colt does a beast. An individual still, sure, but hers. Is that the label of best friend, a set of reins?
"So," Colt starts, working over the idea, evidently of such a different mindset that this is a new perspective to squint across. Maybe Colt's just never had a good enough friend. Thorn comes the closest, but it sounds like it still doesn't compare. Then again Sunjata also said he wanted to end things after losing Nate, and she's never felt that before either. Often accused of feeling far too much, Colt is wondering how she's still unable to feel enough in some situations. Maybe all she knows how to feel properly is anger. "You think the slight is specific to Sohalia?" Best friend, Flora had said, had stressed. Not reasonable Mel says, and that's perhaps the first foothold Colt can grab onto here. "Upset that her best friend might be leaving her, but doesn't want to be mad at her friend, so turns it on me, instead?" Choosing a place to put a feeling, even if it isn't right, that Colt can understand. "Or is it just, customary to be polite enough to tell leaders that you've offered someone from their region a rank? Particularly someone they know." A social misstep, however much sense it makes, is another thing she could understand doing wrong. She's no etiquette beyond her ranch and home, and every leader rules a bit differently, is her understanding.
So, if you got a fire, don't lose it
If you got a do-or-die dream, do it
If you got somethin' to prove, go on and prove it
If it's in your blood, fallin' down ain't enough
Gettin' back up, that's the only backup plan you need
If you got a do-or-die dream, do it
If you got somethin' to prove, go on and prove it
If it's in your blood, fallin' down ain't enough
Gettin' back up, that's the only backup plan you need
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.
