I couldn't utter my love when it counted
Ah, but I'm singing like a bird 'bout it now
Ah, but I'm singing like a bird 'bout it now
It is fortunate for Flora that Koa is a creature of habit, as otherwise the young woman might have been waiting far longer than an hour. But a lunch break is part of the careful routine that the Dragoon has been trying to maintain, the regimen he's fostered in order to keep intrusive thoughts at bay.
Ever since returning from his prolonged deployment to Torchline Koa has been all but living in his office, long days of work pushing into late nights of boxing, resulting in early mornings of fitful sleep, his long body sprawled on the office couch until sunlight and hunger have him grumbling awake and back into the loop. It means he's tired and a little bit grumpy, but it's also good to have routine. The young man doesn't do well in chaos - though an argument could very well be made he's gone too far toward order, now.
But living in an office means that the young man can't much cook, so early afternoons see him emerging from his cave in search of food. He wears a long woolen coat, Pipsqueak a scarf against the early Deepfrost chill as they wander toward the gates. He's a bit of a mess if we're being honest, with stubble on his cheeks and bags under his eyes. One hand scratches absently at Pipsqueak's chin as he pauses outside the gates of the Nest, trying to decide what sort of quick bite to grab before disappearing back into his cave. The other is still slung close against his chest, his left arm not yet fully healed after his disastrous dip into the waters of the Stonesong.
Ever since returning from his prolonged deployment to Torchline Koa has been all but living in his office, long days of work pushing into late nights of boxing, resulting in early mornings of fitful sleep, his long body sprawled on the office couch until sunlight and hunger have him grumbling awake and back into the loop. It means he's tired and a little bit grumpy, but it's also good to have routine. The young man doesn't do well in chaos - though an argument could very well be made he's gone too far toward order, now.
But living in an office means that the young man can't much cook, so early afternoons see him emerging from his cave in search of food. He wears a long woolen coat, Pipsqueak a scarf against the early Deepfrost chill as they wander toward the gates. He's a bit of a mess if we're being honest, with stubble on his cheeks and bags under his eyes. One hand scratches absently at Pipsqueak's chin as he pauses outside the gates of the Nest, trying to decide what sort of quick bite to grab before disappearing back into his cave. The other is still slung close against his chest, his left arm not yet fully healed after his disastrous dip into the waters of the Stonesong.
Koa
And I couldn't whisper when you needed it shouted
Ah, but I'm singing like a bird 'bout it now
Ah, but I'm singing like a bird 'bout it now
totally sniped from odd ilu
