She has been in motion since the first bit of dawn broke up Longnight, or so it feels. Hustling from one port to another in a fever of travel, her heels could almost rouse sparks for how quick and hard they hit the ground and bear her off this latest dock. It's as much a hurry to leave behind the awful rocking, swaying deck of the skyship, her tastes for them not improved with all the exposure, as it is a true eagerness for the task ahead of her.
It's strange to go from this being routine to it serving as a highlight. She never thought wrangling herds would be something she'd miss, only because she never expected it to be so absent from her life to ever feel the loss. Here she is though, lighter with every stride she takes towards the designated meeting spot, discarding each tightly wound pressure and worry until she's practically bouncing her way towards them.
Arriving on the corner of giddy and breathless, her cheeks flushed with the rush of the trek and the thrill of the work, Colt joins them. Fitted in her ranchwear, although it's too creased and new to seem it, still barely broken in after acquiring it in the aftermath of the fire, she wears the usual boots, jeans, chaps, and a cotton t-shirt colored pale green. Given the chill clinging to the air, a tan jacket's pulled on but not buttoned, and her hat awaits the inevitable afternoon sun, pale pegasus feather stuck in the band catching any passing breeze with a faint flutter on the edges.
The bright set of her easy gaze slips over the gathering as she rounds the corner of one of the wagons, and there, she sees him and abruptly stops dead in her tracks.
Vesper
The smile stumbles off her face. All the weight comes rushing back, locking her knees and making her feet heavy enough that her halt rattles up into her jaw. She'd expected him here, but not here, just King's End, but not now. He's never an easy thought to brush up against, but nothing compares to the difficulty of it when he's in sight. She's not ready to see him now, probably would never be, but she'd anticipated time to prepare for that encounter at least, not this blindsided version of it. Every careful defense she's considered after all this time—treating him like she doesn't know him and never has since he's so intent on making strangers out of them, punching him square in the face just to have a moment where she'd hurt him too, or diving behind the nearest cover and waiting it out until he passes—they all drop away in an instant like paper soldiers standing in a breeze.
There's only the cut of him leaning too easily against the wagon to ever appear harmed, as devastating as she remembers, but in all the worst ways. It's infuriating how easily each moment soaked in tears or fury evades her now, the details of all her hurt grown distant enough, which seemed better, until now. Now, oh now it feels terrifying how easily she's fallen back to calling on him in a moment of need, how her gaze finds him like there's nothing else worth looking at, how he still manages to do this, as if she's no respect for the scars she wears with his name on them.
The squirrels racing past with their inane cries jolts her from the stupor, shoulders pinching up by her ears, quiver rattling behind her. She exhales sharply, the movement dropping her shoulders back like a counterweight to the swing of her gaze as it jabs for Sunjata now. She's wiped her expression into something neutral, save for the dark flint of her gaze that she holds the Heartless with. Living up to his newest name too well again. "When I told you to be mad at me, I meant yell. Not whatever the fuck bringing him here is supposed to be." Her voice barely leaves her, hard even for her to hear, but she knows the tight accusation will land on the intended recipient and his excellent hearing. Sunjata had taken enough of her salt to know what this would do, so he either didn't think it still mattered to her, or he didn't care.
"Howdy," she greets on the next breath, audible for all, pushing a warmth and sweetness into it that threatens to choke her. She works past it though, because she'd be damned if she lets Vesper win here. Not again.
Colt is here and has everything on her profile!
It's strange to go from this being routine to it serving as a highlight. She never thought wrangling herds would be something she'd miss, only because she never expected it to be so absent from her life to ever feel the loss. Here she is though, lighter with every stride she takes towards the designated meeting spot, discarding each tightly wound pressure and worry until she's practically bouncing her way towards them.
Arriving on the corner of giddy and breathless, her cheeks flushed with the rush of the trek and the thrill of the work, Colt joins them. Fitted in her ranchwear, although it's too creased and new to seem it, still barely broken in after acquiring it in the aftermath of the fire, she wears the usual boots, jeans, chaps, and a cotton t-shirt colored pale green. Given the chill clinging to the air, a tan jacket's pulled on but not buttoned, and her hat awaits the inevitable afternoon sun, pale pegasus feather stuck in the band catching any passing breeze with a faint flutter on the edges.
The bright set of her easy gaze slips over the gathering as she rounds the corner of one of the wagons, and there, she sees him and abruptly stops dead in her tracks.
Vesper
The smile stumbles off her face. All the weight comes rushing back, locking her knees and making her feet heavy enough that her halt rattles up into her jaw. She'd expected him here, but not here, just King's End, but not now. He's never an easy thought to brush up against, but nothing compares to the difficulty of it when he's in sight. She's not ready to see him now, probably would never be, but she'd anticipated time to prepare for that encounter at least, not this blindsided version of it. Every careful defense she's considered after all this time—treating him like she doesn't know him and never has since he's so intent on making strangers out of them, punching him square in the face just to have a moment where she'd hurt him too, or diving behind the nearest cover and waiting it out until he passes—they all drop away in an instant like paper soldiers standing in a breeze.
There's only the cut of him leaning too easily against the wagon to ever appear harmed, as devastating as she remembers, but in all the worst ways. It's infuriating how easily each moment soaked in tears or fury evades her now, the details of all her hurt grown distant enough, which seemed better, until now. Now, oh now it feels terrifying how easily she's fallen back to calling on him in a moment of need, how her gaze finds him like there's nothing else worth looking at, how he still manages to do this, as if she's no respect for the scars she wears with his name on them.
The squirrels racing past with their inane cries jolts her from the stupor, shoulders pinching up by her ears, quiver rattling behind her. She exhales sharply, the movement dropping her shoulders back like a counterweight to the swing of her gaze as it jabs for Sunjata now. She's wiped her expression into something neutral, save for the dark flint of her gaze that she holds the Heartless with. Living up to his newest name too well again. "When I told you to be mad at me, I meant yell. Not whatever the fuck bringing him here is supposed to be." Her voice barely leaves her, hard even for her to hear, but she knows the tight accusation will land on the intended recipient and his excellent hearing. Sunjata had taken enough of her salt to know what this would do, so he either didn't think it still mattered to her, or he didn't care.
"Howdy," she greets on the next breath, audible for all, pushing a warmth and sweetness into it that threatens to choke her. She works past it though, because she'd be damned if she lets Vesper win here. Not again.
Colt is here and has everything on her profile!
Colt
