KAISEL
So, you wanna start a war?
Bang, shots fired
Bang, shots fired
He stilled instantly at her command, careful not to cross too many boundaries too soon. Climb some walls and duck under some tape, sure, but watch out for the broom in the closet that could send it all crashing down in a moment. Instead of refusal or caution, he only heard a complaint. "I was starting slo—" he began to scoff, but cut off as she leaned in close, the promise of more there as her eyes gleamed like a cat's. If he had the bravado, she had the brains. Well, she also had the bravado if he was being honest. What did he have then... brawn?
One of his eyes narrowed at the subtle shift in her gaze, in the pull of her lips. He was watching her carefully, had been from the moment he saw the residue of her tears; her mascara was giving charcoal in an old fire pit. Thankfully, she didn't leave him guessing at the hundreds of reasons for that change in her, as she merely tossed out a mild grenade of conversation like it made no difference if he lost a leg in the process. Confusion rippled across his face as he tried to make heads or tails of it. As if beseeching the heavens for assistance, his hands lifted palm up, in sync with his demand "What the hell do—" One of those hands was clasped, not by an answering god, but by the swiftest queen. Her golden hair dashed with its own wild abandon behind her as he stumbled along, the words forgotten in the wake of that devilish smile, its twin smattering onto his features as care was fully and completely left on the booth they abandoned.
One of his eyes narrowed at the subtle shift in her gaze, in the pull of her lips. He was watching her carefully, had been from the moment he saw the residue of her tears; her mascara was giving charcoal in an old fire pit. Thankfully, she didn't leave him guessing at the hundreds of reasons for that change in her, as she merely tossed out a mild grenade of conversation like it made no difference if he lost a leg in the process. Confusion rippled across his face as he tried to make heads or tails of it. As if beseeching the heavens for assistance, his hands lifted palm up, in sync with his demand "What the hell do—" One of those hands was clasped, not by an answering god, but by the swiftest queen. Her golden hair dashed with its own wild abandon behind her as he stumbled along, the words forgotten in the wake of that devilish smile, its twin smattering onto his features as care was fully and completely left on the booth they abandoned.
Pain is what you desire
So, you wanna be immortal?
So, you wanna be immortal?
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
