Gonna show him what little girls are made of — gunpowder and lead
The continued spray of colorful paper with each pop of damage Mel unleashes is more amusing than Colt would like to admit, but the tug of her smile gives her away. It's entirely absurd, and she imagines terribly insulting to the beast, although she isn't sure it's got sense enough to mind the pinata-form of gunsmoke.
Glancing back over her shoulder to keep her exit route in mind, Colt reaches behind her head to withdraw another sharpened arrow from The Pencil Sharpener. "Yeah, exactly." She sets the tip to her bow string, muscles bunching as she pulls it back, squinting into her aim as she lines her shot towards the beast. "I know on the surface that doesn't sound unusual," she says with a long exhale, breath steadying even if her thoughts won't, and she fires towards it once more with a twan of her bow and a flick of her fingers.
"But given everything he just went though... I dunno. It sat strange." She has known Sunjata happy before, plenty of times. He has always been some of her favorite company in King's End because of it, his laughter easy to coax out and his smiles terribly infectious. He's also prone to sweep his hurt into the folds of his hair, tucking sorrows behind charm like a blade he didn't mean to let flash in the light. She always appreciated those glimpses of metal, as comforted by the reality of suffering as the warm lacquer of cheer pretending it could make everything better than it is.
Her bow arm droops a touch, attention on the trail of the arrow and the intent of the allogator. "He said Frey helped him." Her lips tighten, one cheek sucking in slightly with consideration before she forces herself to relax and sighs it out more heavily. "I dunno. Not really my place, I know." She isn't judging him, quite the opposite, she's more worried than ever before. It feels like he's burying it, this coming from someone with plenty of blisters from shovel work, and she would not blame him for making the hole. She also knows though, that means he's not actually okay.
Glancing back over her shoulder to keep her exit route in mind, Colt reaches behind her head to withdraw another sharpened arrow from The Pencil Sharpener. "Yeah, exactly." She sets the tip to her bow string, muscles bunching as she pulls it back, squinting into her aim as she lines her shot towards the beast. "I know on the surface that doesn't sound unusual," she says with a long exhale, breath steadying even if her thoughts won't, and she fires towards it once more with a twan of her bow and a flick of her fingers.
"But given everything he just went though... I dunno. It sat strange." She has known Sunjata happy before, plenty of times. He has always been some of her favorite company in King's End because of it, his laughter easy to coax out and his smiles terribly infectious. He's also prone to sweep his hurt into the folds of his hair, tucking sorrows behind charm like a blade he didn't mean to let flash in the light. She always appreciated those glimpses of metal, as comforted by the reality of suffering as the warm lacquer of cheer pretending it could make everything better than it is.
Her bow arm droops a touch, attention on the trail of the arrow and the intent of the allogator. "He said Frey helped him." Her lips tighten, one cheek sucking in slightly with consideration before she forces herself to relax and sighs it out more heavily. "I dunno. Not really my place, I know." She isn't judging him, quite the opposite, she's more worried than ever before. It feels like he's burying it, this coming from someone with plenty of blisters from shovel work, and she would not blame him for making the hole. She also knows though, that means he's not actually okay.
Colt
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.
