Evie
I'm growing up, but I'm not growing old
Each new moment feels somehow more intense, more infused with love, to the point she wonders how it can grow so exponentially without reaching some unforeseen limit. His hands are steady, which is a relief because she can see the way her own tremble as he takes her left hand and gently slides the ring on. She shouldn't be surprised that it's a perfect fit, but seeing it on her finger makes her want to cry and kiss him another time.
But first she must watch as he demonstrates how to activate the ring, which is admittedly difficult given she doesn't want to look away from his eyes - though his self-conscious furrowing of his brows has her immediately touching his cheek, wishing she could reach him through Attuned measures so he might feel the radiant glow of her happiness, with the ring and with him. "No. It's perfect." Spoken with an almost vehement insistence, a protectiveness that implies she'll happily crush anyone who tries to look askance at her ring.
Taking her hand away, she obligingly twists the stone on top and marvels at the way she goes invisible in the span of a blink. It's disorienting to say the least, feeling her arm move but not being able to see it, and her astonished laugh will be all he can gauge until she turns it once more to re-solidify. Bright, still-wet blue eyes lifting to his to beam anew. "I love it." And this time she really does lean in to kiss him again, both hands coming to cup his face in order to pour every ounce of love and appreciation into the touch.
But first she must watch as he demonstrates how to activate the ring, which is admittedly difficult given she doesn't want to look away from his eyes - though his self-conscious furrowing of his brows has her immediately touching his cheek, wishing she could reach him through Attuned measures so he might feel the radiant glow of her happiness, with the ring and with him. "No. It's perfect." Spoken with an almost vehement insistence, a protectiveness that implies she'll happily crush anyone who tries to look askance at her ring.
Taking her hand away, she obligingly twists the stone on top and marvels at the way she goes invisible in the span of a blink. It's disorienting to say the least, feeling her arm move but not being able to see it, and her astonished laugh will be all he can gauge until she turns it once more to re-solidify. Bright, still-wet blue eyes lifting to his to beam anew. "I love it." And this time she really does lean in to kiss him again, both hands coming to cup his face in order to pour every ounce of love and appreciation into the touch.
And I hate to do anything that I've been told
