Colt
Cold nights, a sleight of hand
No trace of innocence, long gone, long gone
I've been tangled up, I've been wrangling up heathens
I've been double-cupped neck-up in the deep end
No trace of innocence, long gone, long gone
I've been tangled up, I've been wrangling up heathens
I've been double-cupped neck-up in the deep end
The small smile that's been seating itself insistently upon her face nearly the instant they arrived here now flares into something wider and brighter, more wicked than it has any right being. "Now I know I can believe you with my whole heart if it's both." Takes one to know one, as they say. What Colt really means though, and the intention should be clear in the gleam cut by the angle of her eyes as they hold Hotaru firmly in place, is that she finds no shame in either answer, and shares the response in equal parts. Company has always been easy, but not like this. This is something else entirely. It feels like she's talking to a mirror, but by the grace of the gods it's a much better reflection talking back.
Although there has been a halo of light to Hotaru the entire time, subtly angelic in a way that can bring anyone into the folds of the cloth, it hardly compares to the sight of her blushing. Maybe it's just the addition of the rosy color to her complexion, but it feels like the fact that this glow had to be earned makes it all the more alluring. The wolf that's come into Colt's expression doesn't fade so readily because of it, as though rousing fresh scarlet to the surface has reminded her that she is not without hunger. There'd be no feasting on the Valkyrie tonight, she doesn't presume her to be anything akin to a sheep, but the flush of her cheeks has a similar allure as the curl of wool.
Although Colt has the decency not to drool at least, and frees Hotaru and the burn of her cheeks from her gaze as she flicks it towards the bar to watch her newly requested drink being made. "Didn't even have a chance for my fingers to get lonely," she laughs faintly, an approval of Hotaru's choice threaded through the words. How easy it would be to keep at this all night, already unaware how much time has ticked by and not keen to start counting glasses like clock hands.
With her new drink freshly claimed, Colt holds it curled in beside her cheek, as comfortable as if she's just taken hold of her childhood blanket and snuggled up to it. She readily turns her attention back upon the re-composed Valkyrie, expression lifting into one of quiet surprise at the confession that is offered. Not because it is given, although that certainly deserves some notice, but for what she says. "Could have fooled me," Colt offers like a compliment, because for someone who doesn't normally partake, Hotaru did not waste time acquiring refills where others might sip air or water instead. Colt smartly quiets though as Hotaru offers more, and she leans in with the demigod, working to grant this matter the privacy and respect it deserves. Although liquor might loosen lips and hearts quite often, the value of what's exchanged does not become diminished for it, least of all the rarity that she suspects this version is.
So Colt holds it, the truth. She cups it in her patient smile like a small bird in her hand, holding without crushing, safeguarding without stifling. She can only do this, because she knows. "If I didn't know any better, I'd swear you've been following me around." Colt's gaze narrows faintly, as if inspecting Hotaru properly for the first time. The temptation to reach out and grab her arm just to ensure it isn't, in fact a strange reflection, is high, but the ice rattling in her drink burns it away with another sip. That they have already brushed skin a few times is proof enough, Colt well knows, but she has never heard someone else so clearly explain the way she feels that for a moment all she can do is wonder if she ought to pick at the corner of reality and try to lift the corner of it up.
"Didn't used to drink much until I got married." The smile she offers at that wrinkles the edges of her eyes with its insincerity. A little kiss of worry on her face, suggesting to Hotaru that there's nothing sweet to the tale to rouse any kind of warm response. "More so, when he turned into my late husband." Her glass has since left the cradle of her neck and perches back on the counter, the rim of it being traced by a finger, trying to keep a touch on the edge of things. "Then I began to need to trade some control for some peace." Tequila quickly became her favored trader, finding it usually served her best the next day, and that it was just the right heat and flavor to let her pace herself best. "The point is to find that dial and make everything just a little less sharp." Her fingers reach out as if there's an actual knob before her she could grasp and turn to bring the clarity of life down by enough degrees to not fully lose herself, but make the phantoms that she otherwise sees less noticeable. The ruin, and the ruining, as it is.
She drops her hand back to her glass, but she doesn't lift it to drink, not yet. Instead, she taps at the ring of water curling at the base, the tension able to be touched but not give, wobbling instead beneath her fingertip. "Takes a lot, to want to give up a lot of the control." It's an agreement as much as an admission. Adrenaline doesn't require any, tequila only some, and nicotine has always demanded more, sneaking into power in the form of a habit that's seeded inside with roots you scarcely notice. It's not until she met the stars though that she had ever decided to give it all up. Every scrap of it, handed over in a manila envelope by a man she didn't really know in a city that wasn't hers. Stupid, in hindsight, but with madness crawling through every part of her, the blessed promise of some silence had mattered more than holding onto the idea she even still had control. She'd lost herself and never even realized when. "That's why love isn't worth it," she finishes abruptly, dipping into something darker than she means to, and so she swiftly grabs up her glass and tips the heat of it down to light something nicer again.
The foul twist brewing inside her scatters beneath the liquor and Colt doesn't let it gnaw at her again as she refocuses on what Hotaru is saying and not the way their shadows merge too seamlessly. There's a brilliance to what she says that threatens to overtake her, proving this woman can glow from within just as readily. It tilts a better smile back onto Colt's features, because that's something she can recognize, that eagerness to wrestle something difficult into a place of beauty and ownership.
Stirred by the vigor inside Hotaru's words as much as what she says, and absolutely impressed with the boldness of the other woman and her ability to reach out for what she wants, Colt doesn't let much silence fill behind Hotaru's ask. Instead, she reaches out a hand, a shake in waiting. "I can already tell you, all the options will be insufficient compared to you." It's no longer a hypothetical, that much is plain. "Come be the best sort of villain with me." Her smile tilts higher on one side as her hair slides slowly across her shoulder. "Or at least, let's walk it together for a while. See what two daring toddlers can get off the ground. Deal?" She's upgrading the baby steps to the next stage, because they wouldn't have time to toddle around drooling in the sands.
Although there has been a halo of light to Hotaru the entire time, subtly angelic in a way that can bring anyone into the folds of the cloth, it hardly compares to the sight of her blushing. Maybe it's just the addition of the rosy color to her complexion, but it feels like the fact that this glow had to be earned makes it all the more alluring. The wolf that's come into Colt's expression doesn't fade so readily because of it, as though rousing fresh scarlet to the surface has reminded her that she is not without hunger. There'd be no feasting on the Valkyrie tonight, she doesn't presume her to be anything akin to a sheep, but the flush of her cheeks has a similar allure as the curl of wool.
Although Colt has the decency not to drool at least, and frees Hotaru and the burn of her cheeks from her gaze as she flicks it towards the bar to watch her newly requested drink being made. "Didn't even have a chance for my fingers to get lonely," she laughs faintly, an approval of Hotaru's choice threaded through the words. How easy it would be to keep at this all night, already unaware how much time has ticked by and not keen to start counting glasses like clock hands.
With her new drink freshly claimed, Colt holds it curled in beside her cheek, as comfortable as if she's just taken hold of her childhood blanket and snuggled up to it. She readily turns her attention back upon the re-composed Valkyrie, expression lifting into one of quiet surprise at the confession that is offered. Not because it is given, although that certainly deserves some notice, but for what she says. "Could have fooled me," Colt offers like a compliment, because for someone who doesn't normally partake, Hotaru did not waste time acquiring refills where others might sip air or water instead. Colt smartly quiets though as Hotaru offers more, and she leans in with the demigod, working to grant this matter the privacy and respect it deserves. Although liquor might loosen lips and hearts quite often, the value of what's exchanged does not become diminished for it, least of all the rarity that she suspects this version is.
So Colt holds it, the truth. She cups it in her patient smile like a small bird in her hand, holding without crushing, safeguarding without stifling. She can only do this, because she knows. "If I didn't know any better, I'd swear you've been following me around." Colt's gaze narrows faintly, as if inspecting Hotaru properly for the first time. The temptation to reach out and grab her arm just to ensure it isn't, in fact a strange reflection, is high, but the ice rattling in her drink burns it away with another sip. That they have already brushed skin a few times is proof enough, Colt well knows, but she has never heard someone else so clearly explain the way she feels that for a moment all she can do is wonder if she ought to pick at the corner of reality and try to lift the corner of it up.
"Didn't used to drink much until I got married." The smile she offers at that wrinkles the edges of her eyes with its insincerity. A little kiss of worry on her face, suggesting to Hotaru that there's nothing sweet to the tale to rouse any kind of warm response. "More so, when he turned into my late husband." Her glass has since left the cradle of her neck and perches back on the counter, the rim of it being traced by a finger, trying to keep a touch on the edge of things. "Then I began to need to trade some control for some peace." Tequila quickly became her favored trader, finding it usually served her best the next day, and that it was just the right heat and flavor to let her pace herself best. "The point is to find that dial and make everything just a little less sharp." Her fingers reach out as if there's an actual knob before her she could grasp and turn to bring the clarity of life down by enough degrees to not fully lose herself, but make the phantoms that she otherwise sees less noticeable. The ruin, and the ruining, as it is.
She drops her hand back to her glass, but she doesn't lift it to drink, not yet. Instead, she taps at the ring of water curling at the base, the tension able to be touched but not give, wobbling instead beneath her fingertip. "Takes a lot, to want to give up a lot of the control." It's an agreement as much as an admission. Adrenaline doesn't require any, tequila only some, and nicotine has always demanded more, sneaking into power in the form of a habit that's seeded inside with roots you scarcely notice. It's not until she met the stars though that she had ever decided to give it all up. Every scrap of it, handed over in a manila envelope by a man she didn't really know in a city that wasn't hers. Stupid, in hindsight, but with madness crawling through every part of her, the blessed promise of some silence had mattered more than holding onto the idea she even still had control. She'd lost herself and never even realized when. "That's why love isn't worth it," she finishes abruptly, dipping into something darker than she means to, and so she swiftly grabs up her glass and tips the heat of it down to light something nicer again.
The foul twist brewing inside her scatters beneath the liquor and Colt doesn't let it gnaw at her again as she refocuses on what Hotaru is saying and not the way their shadows merge too seamlessly. There's a brilliance to what she says that threatens to overtake her, proving this woman can glow from within just as readily. It tilts a better smile back onto Colt's features, because that's something she can recognize, that eagerness to wrestle something difficult into a place of beauty and ownership.
Stirred by the vigor inside Hotaru's words as much as what she says, and absolutely impressed with the boldness of the other woman and her ability to reach out for what she wants, Colt doesn't let much silence fill behind Hotaru's ask. Instead, she reaches out a hand, a shake in waiting. "I can already tell you, all the options will be insufficient compared to you." It's no longer a hypothetical, that much is plain. "Come be the best sort of villain with me." Her smile tilts higher on one side as her hair slides slowly across her shoulder. "Or at least, let's walk it together for a while. See what two daring toddlers can get off the ground. Deal?" She's upgrading the baby steps to the next stage, because they wouldn't have time to toddle around drooling in the sands.
They all know it's the wrong road
But they still go, they still go
Fucking long days getting longer
And the dark days getting darker
But they still go, they still go
Fucking long days getting longer
And the dark days getting darker
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.
