Raining on me so damn long, but that's relief to a man who calls a desert home
There's a sense of defeat to Flora that catches Colt off guard. Or perhaps better said, a deflation, since there is no victor between them. How can there be, when all they've earned is a sense of hurt and betrayal, their only prize the complication of words exchanged like ammunition. She expected the staunch certainty she saw before, never having seen Flora as anything other than fiercely confident, even when she's wrong. It seems the difference lies in knowing you're wrong, or at least, confused about what's right anymore.
Colt's gaze drops to the small streams of bubbles still moving along the side of her glass as Flora's voice rises, the cadence of it broken apart now by thoughts that've been scattered. It's familiar, and Colt won't be so cruel as to watch as someone's certainty unravels. Although she can't avoid the sound of it, or the relief it grants, guilt mixed in with finally feeling understood and sane when everything until now had felt the opposite, wishing it had come in a way less muddy and torn than this. Truth does not bother to dress pretty very often though, and Flora's ability could prove as dangerous for herself as anyone else.
Her attention slides back up to hold Flora in full when the queen admits she's the one who owes an apology. Colt attempts to rouse a reassurance, to say she doesn't need it, to nod with knowing eyes like they need not drag the thing to the surface just to understand it lurks beneath. Yet, her breath remains suspended in her chest, held as much for herself as the anticipation of what Flora stumbles through.
"I understand." Better than any thank you Colt could give, the words leave her with a subtle sigh. "I'd defend my friends just as thoroughly, if I felt the threat." A weak smile offers itself up on one side of her face, and Colt's body grants the breathing room that their fresh awareness doesn't. She claims her frosted glass, fingers curling around a new portion of the base where the ice still clings, undisturbed until now as she tilts the rest of it back. "So truly, anyone who knows you so well is rather lucky, I think, to have you to stand up for them." She reaches for the bottle of champagne and refills her glass efficiently, topping off Flora's without comment. She waits pointedly for a fresh chill, glancing towards the dragon. "Spice, would you be so kind?"
Sinking away from the bar edge into one of the high stools, she settles comfortably into it, effectively removing the tension of someone standing and ready to depart as one leg crosses over the other. "For what it's worth, I've spoken to Sohalia since." Her intention here is not to drag the woman, but maybe offer a touch more clarity to Flora, who's looking like she's seen a ghost at this point. A too familiar feeling, and Colt hates the idea of watching the Hot Take dangle over nothing for long. "You still might want to ask her yourself, she'll probably give you a better explanation than me, but she told me she didn't mean it to come across that way." The way Colt's lips twist back into a frown speaks volumes about how much she agrees with that statement, but she tilts her lips behind her glass until they straighten back into something more resolved to kindness.
"My best guess is she decided the desert wasn't to her liking and was just trying to talk a little shit about it all with you. Make herself feel better about the choice she'd make, all while being proud she'd been invited." There's no accusation in her tone, just the analysis of something she can understand, and she says as much. "I get it," she shrugs, "It's not for everyone." That had always been her stance, although she would have appreciated being told a smoother way than had happened, but life frankly doesn't give a damn what she wants, as it's blatantly shown her time and time again.
Colt's gaze drops to the small streams of bubbles still moving along the side of her glass as Flora's voice rises, the cadence of it broken apart now by thoughts that've been scattered. It's familiar, and Colt won't be so cruel as to watch as someone's certainty unravels. Although she can't avoid the sound of it, or the relief it grants, guilt mixed in with finally feeling understood and sane when everything until now had felt the opposite, wishing it had come in a way less muddy and torn than this. Truth does not bother to dress pretty very often though, and Flora's ability could prove as dangerous for herself as anyone else.
Her attention slides back up to hold Flora in full when the queen admits she's the one who owes an apology. Colt attempts to rouse a reassurance, to say she doesn't need it, to nod with knowing eyes like they need not drag the thing to the surface just to understand it lurks beneath. Yet, her breath remains suspended in her chest, held as much for herself as the anticipation of what Flora stumbles through.
"I understand." Better than any thank you Colt could give, the words leave her with a subtle sigh. "I'd defend my friends just as thoroughly, if I felt the threat." A weak smile offers itself up on one side of her face, and Colt's body grants the breathing room that their fresh awareness doesn't. She claims her frosted glass, fingers curling around a new portion of the base where the ice still clings, undisturbed until now as she tilts the rest of it back. "So truly, anyone who knows you so well is rather lucky, I think, to have you to stand up for them." She reaches for the bottle of champagne and refills her glass efficiently, topping off Flora's without comment. She waits pointedly for a fresh chill, glancing towards the dragon. "Spice, would you be so kind?"
Sinking away from the bar edge into one of the high stools, she settles comfortably into it, effectively removing the tension of someone standing and ready to depart as one leg crosses over the other. "For what it's worth, I've spoken to Sohalia since." Her intention here is not to drag the woman, but maybe offer a touch more clarity to Flora, who's looking like she's seen a ghost at this point. A too familiar feeling, and Colt hates the idea of watching the Hot Take dangle over nothing for long. "You still might want to ask her yourself, she'll probably give you a better explanation than me, but she told me she didn't mean it to come across that way." The way Colt's lips twist back into a frown speaks volumes about how much she agrees with that statement, but she tilts her lips behind her glass until they straighten back into something more resolved to kindness.
"My best guess is she decided the desert wasn't to her liking and was just trying to talk a little shit about it all with you. Make herself feel better about the choice she'd make, all while being proud she'd been invited." There's no accusation in her tone, just the analysis of something she can understand, and she says as much. "I get it," she shrugs, "It's not for everyone." That had always been her stance, although she would have appreciated being told a smoother way than had happened, but life frankly doesn't give a damn what she wants, as it's blatantly shown her time and time again.
Colt
Still gripping the shovel that got me here, fear if I let go I might disappear
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.
