COLT
She's a runner, she's a lover, always stuck in her ways
Pull her closer, think you know her, now she's turning the page
She gave a warning if it's storming, she'll be gone with the rain
Pull her closer, think you know her, now she's turning the page
She gave a warning if it's storming, she'll be gone with the rain
It's easier when he's distant. Then she can pretend she's stronger, he's weaker, and that she can do all the things that she should to protect herself. From far enough away, Vesper becomes whatever shape she needs him to be to survive the day. Cruel enough to leave. Cold enough not to come back. Quiet enough to answer only with the words she puts in his mouth, arguing with the memory of him. It's simple, really. She already knows she's got a good imagination, having conjured his care the whole time when it'd actually been nothing more than controlled indifference.
Standing here now though, close and real, he doesn't adhere to the thing she's made of him among the ruins of her feelings.
A fight is not what she expected when she followed him out here, only because she has no intention of doing anything more than taking whatever blows he'd deal. She planned to carry the marks she earned away with her, the last gift she'd receive from him. Each short word that escapes him to scrape the air comes like the wind up, but what lands leaves her reeling in an unexpected way.
These aren't the same lips that sneered at her over the woods and whistled nonchalance with leaving. These ones curl like something that's grown too near a fire, wilting away from the blaze with all the distress of reaching. Worse, the yell is barely audible.
"Wh—" Confusion fractures the sense of calm she'd wrangled and everything inside her slips, losing footing like she's just stepped over an edge. It's always been a fall when it comes to him. Her hand that's still around the untaken bottles flexes, the glass sliding through her fingers and screaming against itself as it clatters onto the ground. Breath slams against her ribs, hard, like something trapped willing to batter itself free.
A defiant step is taken towards him, the demand slung wildly at his back. "What else would it be for!?" Her volume lifts to grab hold of him as her amber chases him through the dark, and before long she's pursuing him for fear he'd be swallowed away, rapidly discovering a distaste for distance.
Uncertain she'd managed to haul him back, she desperately calls out the one thing she meant to keep to herself. "Why did you send the pegasus to me?" It's strangled like nothing else she's said so far has been. It's fresh, not healed over and jagged with the scar of time. She had started to grow used to the silence. She'd begun to bury him in it, as best she could. She'd have made quicker work of the grave by now if she didn't keep digging it back up. Some days are taunted by the echo of his dismissive words, and the dirt flies quickly over her shoulder until she's worn herself out on it, as liable to slump into the pit as place him there. Other days, she packs the ground back in, gritting her teeth with a stubborn insistence that it had to have been something, that she couldn't have been that delusional. The only real certainty she actually had was that he was gone, at least, until the pegasus.
Nothing all the while, and then that, offered up like a yell disguised as a whisper. For what though? When she yelled back, the silence continued just the same, like he only meant to prove he could fill it if he wanted. "That was you, wasn't it?" The note came with no name, and the gesture didn't make sense, not when he'd made it clear how little he thought of her. This muddied that clarity, and it would not be the first time she'd fabricated hope with him, but despite the lack of sense, he suits it best. Very few know how much it would have meant to her, and no one else would have dressed it up in stardust.
It'd been the first, genuinely happy day she'd had after months of loss and hardship. A rare moment of freedom, where she'd been nothing but wind, and the world could not contain her or bother her. It'd helped her map the region, and it's become a revisited thought that always leaves her smiling. Even now, a part of her can't help but warm to the image of it. "Why reach out to me if you intended to ignore my reply?" The first, uncautious, rebellious thing flares up inside her. Not practiced, not resigned, but raw and running away with her.
Standing here now though, close and real, he doesn't adhere to the thing she's made of him among the ruins of her feelings.
A fight is not what she expected when she followed him out here, only because she has no intention of doing anything more than taking whatever blows he'd deal. She planned to carry the marks she earned away with her, the last gift she'd receive from him. Each short word that escapes him to scrape the air comes like the wind up, but what lands leaves her reeling in an unexpected way.
These aren't the same lips that sneered at her over the woods and whistled nonchalance with leaving. These ones curl like something that's grown too near a fire, wilting away from the blaze with all the distress of reaching. Worse, the yell is barely audible.
"Wh—" Confusion fractures the sense of calm she'd wrangled and everything inside her slips, losing footing like she's just stepped over an edge. It's always been a fall when it comes to him. Her hand that's still around the untaken bottles flexes, the glass sliding through her fingers and screaming against itself as it clatters onto the ground. Breath slams against her ribs, hard, like something trapped willing to batter itself free.
A defiant step is taken towards him, the demand slung wildly at his back. "What else would it be for!?" Her volume lifts to grab hold of him as her amber chases him through the dark, and before long she's pursuing him for fear he'd be swallowed away, rapidly discovering a distaste for distance.
Uncertain she'd managed to haul him back, she desperately calls out the one thing she meant to keep to herself. "Why did you send the pegasus to me?" It's strangled like nothing else she's said so far has been. It's fresh, not healed over and jagged with the scar of time. She had started to grow used to the silence. She'd begun to bury him in it, as best she could. She'd have made quicker work of the grave by now if she didn't keep digging it back up. Some days are taunted by the echo of his dismissive words, and the dirt flies quickly over her shoulder until she's worn herself out on it, as liable to slump into the pit as place him there. Other days, she packs the ground back in, gritting her teeth with a stubborn insistence that it had to have been something, that she couldn't have been that delusional. The only real certainty she actually had was that he was gone, at least, until the pegasus.
Nothing all the while, and then that, offered up like a yell disguised as a whisper. For what though? When she yelled back, the silence continued just the same, like he only meant to prove he could fill it if he wanted. "That was you, wasn't it?" The note came with no name, and the gesture didn't make sense, not when he'd made it clear how little he thought of her. This muddied that clarity, and it would not be the first time she'd fabricated hope with him, but despite the lack of sense, he suits it best. Very few know how much it would have meant to her, and no one else would have dressed it up in stardust.
It'd been the first, genuinely happy day she'd had after months of loss and hardship. A rare moment of freedom, where she'd been nothing but wind, and the world could not contain her or bother her. It'd helped her map the region, and it's become a revisited thought that always leaves her smiling. Even now, a part of her can't help but warm to the image of it. "Why reach out to me if you intended to ignore my reply?" The first, uncautious, rebellious thing flares up inside her. Not practiced, not resigned, but raw and running away with her.
When she's in it, she's all in it, ain't no holding her back
When I'm with her, she's a river moving steady and fast
She's afraid of all the ways her heart is broke like glass
When I'm with her, she's a river moving steady and fast
She's afraid of all the ways her heart is broke like glass
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.
