Kaisel
Don't need a sign, nothing divine's gonna save me
Kaisel’s eyes widened at the knot of scar tissue she flashed—like someone showing off a fresh tattoo they were proud of. He nearly whistled as he exhaled, brows lifting in that rare disbelief that said, ‘Damn, even I wouldn’t take it that far.’ Which was saying something, from someone who tended to take things too far.
He barked out a laugh at her rebuke, "You don't see yourself when you sleep. Trust me, it's even then." His humor quickly twisted into feigned hurt as she detailed the rules of her teleportation necklace. He wasn’t sure if he believed her—about having the necklace, that was. Obviously, everyone liked him. Because if she had one, then what the fuck, why were they actually considering the Slob Knob?
Too late now. Like a married couple done trying to decide what to eat for dinner, they settled on whatever was closest. He did his best to stay attached to her as they navigated the sea of patrons. He supposed that was a good sign, that the place was able to meet the standards of this many people, or at least it was cheap. Regardless of being a queen—or perhaps in spite of it—Flora managed to command the attention of the haggard barkeep. An impressive feat, given that bars tended to sling drinks to customers the same way a shark tank handled feeding time. Opening your mouth alone didn't guarantee you got fed.
Kaisel scanned the shack masquerading as a bar, hunting for a table where they could drink the night into morning. As their drinks hit the counter he grabbed them, nodding with his head towards a table freeing up as a tipsy couple staggered their way to the door. More tired than he'd admit, Kaisel thumped into the seat, still warm from the previous ass. He set their drinks down, though his never left his hand. "To overdue reunions," he smiled, lifting his drink towards hers in a cheers.
"Now, he said as he settled back into his seat after taking the first sip. "Tell me how you've been Flo-mo. For instance, what the hell you meant by you died." He splashed some liquor over his wound, wincing as it did its job and bit into his skin. He took another swig right after—better the burn in his throat than on his arm. He glanced up at her, expectant, while he worked to unravel the wraps on his good arm.
He barked out a laugh at her rebuke, "You don't see yourself when you sleep. Trust me, it's even then." His humor quickly twisted into feigned hurt as she detailed the rules of her teleportation necklace. He wasn’t sure if he believed her—about having the necklace, that was. Obviously, everyone liked him. Because if she had one, then what the fuck, why were they actually considering the Slob Knob?
Too late now. Like a married couple done trying to decide what to eat for dinner, they settled on whatever was closest. He did his best to stay attached to her as they navigated the sea of patrons. He supposed that was a good sign, that the place was able to meet the standards of this many people, or at least it was cheap. Regardless of being a queen—or perhaps in spite of it—Flora managed to command the attention of the haggard barkeep. An impressive feat, given that bars tended to sling drinks to customers the same way a shark tank handled feeding time. Opening your mouth alone didn't guarantee you got fed.
Kaisel scanned the shack masquerading as a bar, hunting for a table where they could drink the night into morning. As their drinks hit the counter he grabbed them, nodding with his head towards a table freeing up as a tipsy couple staggered their way to the door. More tired than he'd admit, Kaisel thumped into the seat, still warm from the previous ass. He set their drinks down, though his never left his hand. "To overdue reunions," he smiled, lifting his drink towards hers in a cheers.
"Now, he said as he settled back into his seat after taking the first sip. "Tell me how you've been Flo-mo. For instance, what the hell you meant by you died." He splashed some liquor over his wound, wincing as it did its job and bit into his skin. He took another swig right after—better the burn in his throat than on his arm. He glanced up at her, expectant, while he worked to unravel the wraps on his good arm.
Here only the strong survive
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
