COLT
It should sit as a symbol of how even damaged things can adapt and thrive, and that thought passes, but so too does the one that every mark she'd made here has been so thoroughly erased even she can barely find the sketch of them. The world does not wait to move on, and it'll bury whatever it can in the process. She swallows.
The wind of his arm against her tugs her back to him, and she stirs a little, sighing against the reminder of the present. "A little of everything," she says in gentle answer, lifting her head and turning an eye towards the shift of his gaze from meadow to her. "Kind of like the time we collected flowers to keep out the void." Her smile is weak, but present, and the more it tries the shape of itself on her lips, the more insistent it becomes.
Easing fully off the crutch of him, she reaches for the bag slung around her other shoulder, pulling it around front. She withdraws a trowel in each hand as if intending to duel-wield in the battle against grief, but the formidable gardening appearance doesn't last before she hands one over to him. "You get the pinka nd purple," she hums, "I'll nab the blue and yellow." With nothing more than a nod and another gathered breath, she starts down the slope to where her house had once stood, bag thumping at her side, and eventually crouches down to drive her trowel in under the dirt and roots. They'll be excavating the flowers for replanting in Hak Etme for Rae, and it seems fitting she'd select part of one home to bring to another. There's enough to spare, and they'd repopulate the gaps themselves before long.
"So tell me," she says with enough pause to cut a glance over to Thorn over her shoulder. "What's got you smiling this much. I saw it on your face the whole time we were riding, and I expected a much different expression then." With all the heaviness that's been dragging her down for so long, it feels she barely has the means to stay above water and catch her breath, but she grabs hold of the opportunity for something lighter in the hopes it might shed some of what pulls her under.
The wind of his arm against her tugs her back to him, and she stirs a little, sighing against the reminder of the present. "A little of everything," she says in gentle answer, lifting her head and turning an eye towards the shift of his gaze from meadow to her. "Kind of like the time we collected flowers to keep out the void." Her smile is weak, but present, and the more it tries the shape of itself on her lips, the more insistent it becomes.
Easing fully off the crutch of him, she reaches for the bag slung around her other shoulder, pulling it around front. She withdraws a trowel in each hand as if intending to duel-wield in the battle against grief, but the formidable gardening appearance doesn't last before she hands one over to him. "You get the pinka nd purple," she hums, "I'll nab the blue and yellow." With nothing more than a nod and another gathered breath, she starts down the slope to where her house had once stood, bag thumping at her side, and eventually crouches down to drive her trowel in under the dirt and roots. They'll be excavating the flowers for replanting in Hak Etme for Rae, and it seems fitting she'd select part of one home to bring to another. There's enough to spare, and they'd repopulate the gaps themselves before long.
"So tell me," she says with enough pause to cut a glance over to Thorn over her shoulder. "What's got you smiling this much. I saw it on your face the whole time we were riding, and I expected a much different expression then." With all the heaviness that's been dragging her down for so long, it feels she barely has the means to stay above water and catch her breath, but she grabs hold of the opportunity for something lighter in the hopes it might shed some of what pulls her under.
Baby, don't fall for me, I'll tell you right now
You're gonna hate me when we hit the ground
Think you're gonna fix me, think we're making progress
You'll be broken with me somewhere in the process
You're gonna hate me when we hit the ground
Think you're gonna fix me, think we're making progress
You'll be broken with me somewhere in the process
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.
