Kaisel
She's enjoying the toga far too much, he realizes, as she brings up flower crowns and sandals again. He tosses her a herald's spiteful scowl, unwilling to feed in further to her dress up doll fantasies. The fact she got him robed in this is enough—and to think, he thought the toga was going to be dignified. That word can't possibly exist for him as he hobbles awkwardly after her, forced to take a half-step every so often with his one hand still clasping the fabric shut over his thigh, which in turn pulls it a bit too taut in other regions.
He halts behind her, gaze sweeping along each room she points out and its designation. He is peering into his room when her finger trails the E of the opposing door, so he doesn't catch the fondness for which she traces the memory, but he does account for the fact that she doesn't mention it. He had never met her twin, but he knew of him. As someone who didn't even have a sibling, he couldn't imagine the loss of someone like a twin. That Flora could remain so bright when she had endured so much, and so young, it was a wonder at times. Kaisel had been lucky, privileged in a way that even Flora, with all her family ties, wasn't. The worst he'd had to face was a curfew and overprotective parents. His mouth ran dry at the thought, but he tore his attention from the E that looked more like a gravestone than a door in that moment, as she finished her tour with a nod towards her room.
"I'd hate to interrupt your beauty sleep, gods know what you'd look like without it," He grins as he ducks into his assigned room, calling behind him, "thanks Flo-ro, sweet dreams!"
He kicks his door mostly shut and glances around the room, sniffing at the beach-vacation vibe it emanated. A shower is certainly appealing, but he's hesitant to come out smelling like a coconut, although a quick pit check told him coconut was better than whatever his current cologne was, which was some mixture of skyship, dried icecream, and Frey's breath. Bidding his newfound bed farewell he shuffles his way back into the hall and to the shower.
The golden fabric pools by the sink as he eases into the warm embrace of the water. He leans against the side of the wall and lets the stream hit between his shoulders. Drop by drop it melts away the wear of the day, untangling his thoughts. He places them carefully into rows of things to remember to do tomorrow, or later, and things he wishes he might let go, mistakes he repeats like a film on rewind, some of which happened here. He sighs, a resignation for what's happened has happened, and commits to washing with all the coconut scented soaps.
He halts behind her, gaze sweeping along each room she points out and its designation. He is peering into his room when her finger trails the E of the opposing door, so he doesn't catch the fondness for which she traces the memory, but he does account for the fact that she doesn't mention it. He had never met her twin, but he knew of him. As someone who didn't even have a sibling, he couldn't imagine the loss of someone like a twin. That Flora could remain so bright when she had endured so much, and so young, it was a wonder at times. Kaisel had been lucky, privileged in a way that even Flora, with all her family ties, wasn't. The worst he'd had to face was a curfew and overprotective parents. His mouth ran dry at the thought, but he tore his attention from the E that looked more like a gravestone than a door in that moment, as she finished her tour with a nod towards her room.
"I'd hate to interrupt your beauty sleep, gods know what you'd look like without it," He grins as he ducks into his assigned room, calling behind him, "thanks Flo-ro, sweet dreams!"
He kicks his door mostly shut and glances around the room, sniffing at the beach-vacation vibe it emanated. A shower is certainly appealing, but he's hesitant to come out smelling like a coconut, although a quick pit check told him coconut was better than whatever his current cologne was, which was some mixture of skyship, dried icecream, and Frey's breath. Bidding his newfound bed farewell he shuffles his way back into the hall and to the shower.
The golden fabric pools by the sink as he eases into the warm embrace of the water. He leans against the side of the wall and lets the stream hit between his shoulders. Drop by drop it melts away the wear of the day, untangling his thoughts. He places them carefully into rows of things to remember to do tomorrow, or later, and things he wishes he might let go, mistakes he repeats like a film on rewind, some of which happened here. He sighs, a resignation for what's happened has happened, and commits to washing with all the coconut scented soaps.
And when the day broke, buried in violence
Somethin' made my mind up
I could do this with my eyes closed
Somethin' made my mind up
I could do this with my eyes closed
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
