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
A flatter line pulls her lips back, one brow lifting above the slant of a cheek as her face speaks on her behalf. Regarding how breakups normally go, theirs had not been it, and she rather thinks he knows it. "Breakups usually happen because someone wants them to. Because someone has stopped caring." Admittedly, she might have less experience than him in this regard. Her initial marriage was young and fast, and anything since has never survived to the point of care, not for her. Plenty of arguments and slammed doors, but not the sort of thing that drags her soul out. As far as she understands it though, he never wanted this, and that matters.
The way he falls a bit pulls the same shape to her mouth. "No," she disagrees faintly, fingers tightening briefly in his. "That's what I mean. You thought you were the only one who had to pay something." Maybe she truly can't understand. Maybe it's easier to talk about all the maybes when everything's already been dismantled and broken enough to pretend it could have taken other shapes easily, but she can't accept that this was always the shape they'd end up in. It's where they are now, but his resignation to this being the inevitability carries the same cadence that his choosing this had—he thinks he already knows how it ends. For him. For her.
It's understandable; there are patterns to things, and people are complex in as many ways as they are simple. She's thought the same, so certain until he came in out of the blue and thoroughly upended everything she'd made from routine and history. "You didn't give me the choice to try." Not in a way where she knew the truth, just the lie. Not in a way where he trusted her to love as much as he did to hate. Now, she's finally been given all the choices, but the only decision that remains is how much to make either of them bleed.
Rolling breath through her like it could cart some of the weight away, she holds it until her side stretches, and then looses it until the grass bends under the force. In its absence, her eyes shut for a moment, everything around her jumping up in greater notice. The lawn under her arm tickles faintly when she breathes, the herd's distant restlessness calling out to itself, the press of his fingers against hers. Her eyes go back to him with her admission, and his return of it folds into her with all the fragility of something that should not be studied too hard.
A wince tugs at her expression. "Sorry you wasted your time," she murmurs, aware it's not the easiest trip after making it far too many times of late, particularly not for him to come up and see her. "...Even more so, because I came to King's End for LongNight." From what she's been able to gather, he seems to be living here now. She never knew where he went after he left that day in the Grounds, startled to find him gone from The Ark and a very angry Jack receiving her 'gift' in his stead.
His apology catches her off guard, and for a moment, her breath stumbles over it. "You never have to apologize for that." Her voice has gone smaller again, gaze dropping to the lean of his arm and the faint pinpricks of light on it. "I'm sorry," she starts, teeth catching her lower lip. "I was trying to never channel you again, but it came at us so fast." A rush of shadows bending wrong and sand pelting over at her, its gnarled frame landing close enough to her that she could feel the rush of its arrival sweep past her. "I got scared—and you—you always felt safe." She knows the irritant it must be, being hauled into her shit without asking, and a sense of duty doesn't diminish the annoyance of it all.
The way he falls a bit pulls the same shape to her mouth. "No," she disagrees faintly, fingers tightening briefly in his. "That's what I mean. You thought you were the only one who had to pay something." Maybe she truly can't understand. Maybe it's easier to talk about all the maybes when everything's already been dismantled and broken enough to pretend it could have taken other shapes easily, but she can't accept that this was always the shape they'd end up in. It's where they are now, but his resignation to this being the inevitability carries the same cadence that his choosing this had—he thinks he already knows how it ends. For him. For her.
It's understandable; there are patterns to things, and people are complex in as many ways as they are simple. She's thought the same, so certain until he came in out of the blue and thoroughly upended everything she'd made from routine and history. "You didn't give me the choice to try." Not in a way where she knew the truth, just the lie. Not in a way where he trusted her to love as much as he did to hate. Now, she's finally been given all the choices, but the only decision that remains is how much to make either of them bleed.
Rolling breath through her like it could cart some of the weight away, she holds it until her side stretches, and then looses it until the grass bends under the force. In its absence, her eyes shut for a moment, everything around her jumping up in greater notice. The lawn under her arm tickles faintly when she breathes, the herd's distant restlessness calling out to itself, the press of his fingers against hers. Her eyes go back to him with her admission, and his return of it folds into her with all the fragility of something that should not be studied too hard.
A wince tugs at her expression. "Sorry you wasted your time," she murmurs, aware it's not the easiest trip after making it far too many times of late, particularly not for him to come up and see her. "...Even more so, because I came to King's End for LongNight." From what she's been able to gather, he seems to be living here now. She never knew where he went after he left that day in the Grounds, startled to find him gone from The Ark and a very angry Jack receiving her 'gift' in his stead.
His apology catches her off guard, and for a moment, her breath stumbles over it. "You never have to apologize for that." Her voice has gone smaller again, gaze dropping to the lean of his arm and the faint pinpricks of light on it. "I'm sorry," she starts, teeth catching her lower lip. "I was trying to never channel you again, but it came at us so fast." A rush of shadows bending wrong and sand pelting over at her, its gnarled frame landing close enough to her that she could feel the rush of its arrival sweep past her. "I got scared—and you—you always felt safe." She knows the irritant it must be, being hauled into her shit without asking, and a sense of duty doesn't diminish the annoyance of it all.
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.
