Tryin' to stay between the lines of who I am and who I used to be
"Frey's helping you out?" She takes that the filthy way at once and smirks deeply at him. "Well that makes sense. Here I was about to ask you who the fuck you are and what you've done with the loveable mope I know as Sunjata." An easier laugh slips free, breaking past the tension like wind through a fractured window. "Good for you." She can't imagine the amount of terrible lays he must suffer through, much like Thorn. Surely he puts on a brave enough face and enjoys it well enough to make it his whole career, but no one likes every part of their job. Certainly lines up with him being able to share Frey's wisdom someday. Maybe it'll come with diagrams.
Still, it's a peculiar thing to stand here ready to flay herself open for him just to have him, playfully gasping. It's the sort of back and forth they'd once shared, when trust hadn't gone up in smoke and life had been a simpler thing contained here. Despite herself, a smile stretches out and lingers, gaze softening to the continual warmth of him. Shit, maybe she's been praying to Frey all wrong and should be asking to be dicked down instead of sharpening her arrows.
Another abrupt, full laugh answers his tease, no sweeter song of praise to her than to hear she's a longstanding annoyance to someone she's fond of. "Glad I've still got a claim to something," she hums, the humor fading out like a struck note beneath her voice. She's still half-tempted to ask him a secret only Sunjata should know, because this feels too, nice. She hardly thinks she deserves this version of him, so either this version is wrong somehow, or she is.
She glances down at the chemicals in her hand, the appeal to join whatever cloud he's found a strong motivator. Definitely a nicer notion than continuing to feel the slimy bit of unease still roiling in her gut. "Good. I'll keep watch for the alert," she murmurs, withdrawing a touch more as if the ease and the joy might be scalding if she reaches for them too readily. It builds as he continues, not just shrugging away her tight-lipped accusation, but offering the reality of his position in such a sincere fashion she can only blink back at him like a doe in floodlights.
Fuck it she decides swiftly, spinning off the flask top and tipping back the whiskey with a grimace that only deepens the moment the foul liquid hits the back of her throat, scraping a lingering heat there. She can feel the slide of it down her throat like a bolus she should have broken up, the revolting burn hitting her gut and spreading out instantly. "Uuugh, gods," her lips pull up around the words in a quiet snarl of displeasure and she hands the flask back over to him as if it's offensive. This, after popping the snapdragon pearl into her mouth, set beneath her tongue like a jawbreaker that might be able to chase this whiskey heat out. "I was going to ask why you're being so nice, but after drinking that I think I've change my mind." A visible shudder rolls through her, and she shakes her hand out at her side to dispell the energy. "About you being nice, I mean."
The liquid courage is what she needs to even out, she thinks, because she's feeling a touch mad as she swings between lazy laughter with him and suspicion so deeply set she's positive he's not even himself. Whatever's going on with him, she still means to say her peace, and this should help her work up to it. Until then, the desert might act as something to chew on until she feels less like she's balancing over hell. "It's going well, I think. The desert." She smooths a hand through her hair, the wig fluffing over her shoulder as she pulls it to one side. "Built a skyport. Got our base of operations established; just tents for now, until we have what we need to ask Rae for help making the land a little less...hostile."
Still, it's a peculiar thing to stand here ready to flay herself open for him just to have him, playfully gasping. It's the sort of back and forth they'd once shared, when trust hadn't gone up in smoke and life had been a simpler thing contained here. Despite herself, a smile stretches out and lingers, gaze softening to the continual warmth of him. Shit, maybe she's been praying to Frey all wrong and should be asking to be dicked down instead of sharpening her arrows.
Another abrupt, full laugh answers his tease, no sweeter song of praise to her than to hear she's a longstanding annoyance to someone she's fond of. "Glad I've still got a claim to something," she hums, the humor fading out like a struck note beneath her voice. She's still half-tempted to ask him a secret only Sunjata should know, because this feels too, nice. She hardly thinks she deserves this version of him, so either this version is wrong somehow, or she is.
She glances down at the chemicals in her hand, the appeal to join whatever cloud he's found a strong motivator. Definitely a nicer notion than continuing to feel the slimy bit of unease still roiling in her gut. "Good. I'll keep watch for the alert," she murmurs, withdrawing a touch more as if the ease and the joy might be scalding if she reaches for them too readily. It builds as he continues, not just shrugging away her tight-lipped accusation, but offering the reality of his position in such a sincere fashion she can only blink back at him like a doe in floodlights.
Fuck it she decides swiftly, spinning off the flask top and tipping back the whiskey with a grimace that only deepens the moment the foul liquid hits the back of her throat, scraping a lingering heat there. She can feel the slide of it down her throat like a bolus she should have broken up, the revolting burn hitting her gut and spreading out instantly. "Uuugh, gods," her lips pull up around the words in a quiet snarl of displeasure and she hands the flask back over to him as if it's offensive. This, after popping the snapdragon pearl into her mouth, set beneath her tongue like a jawbreaker that might be able to chase this whiskey heat out. "I was going to ask why you're being so nice, but after drinking that I think I've change my mind." A visible shudder rolls through her, and she shakes her hand out at her side to dispell the energy. "About you being nice, I mean."
The liquid courage is what she needs to even out, she thinks, because she's feeling a touch mad as she swings between lazy laughter with him and suspicion so deeply set she's positive he's not even himself. Whatever's going on with him, she still means to say her peace, and this should help her work up to it. Until then, the desert might act as something to chew on until she feels less like she's balancing over hell. "It's going well, I think. The desert." She smooths a hand through her hair, the wig fluffing over her shoulder as she pulls it to one side. "Built a skyport. Got our base of operations established; just tents for now, until we have what we need to ask Rae for help making the land a little less...hostile."
Colt
I been livin', I been losin', findin' out that I can't run from me
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.
