Kaisel
The golden light of dawn has a way of coating all the cracks and dust that the previous day revealed. It glints with the promise of new, like the possibilities of the fresh day are limited only to your imagination. The gilded hour eventually dims into the reality of a blue sky, the starkness of which has no trouble exposing everything for exactly what it is, but some of the morning glow can linger, if you tilt your head just right and don't look too hard at the things it buried in gold.
Kaisel is an expert at not dwelling on the past, so the thundercloud brewing above his head is only a testament to the fact Flora chose to mark up their freshly cleaned scoreboard before he'd even opened his eyes. He's only mad he didn't think to rouse earlier—wouldn't have been the first time he got up before daybreak to play at war.
Flora's framed perfectly with the diffused light of the kitchen, nothing but softness and warmth visible in the tilt of her body on the counter, the drizzle of her sweet voice a veritable breakfast topping choice. It seems impossible she could be a sleepover villain, and yet, Kaisel's spine still ripples with the memory that proves otherwise. He offers her a blatantly mocking smile as he settles against the edge of the counter, but he takes her offered juice readily. As he tilts the glass back, a small, testing sip, his gaze slides accusingly towards Spice who gargoyles above. He sets the glass back down, audibly tasting, suspicious as his attention lazily coasts back to Flora and her hollow cheer. "Didn't spike this with a laxative or something did you?" He can't keep the humorous glint from his features, because damn if that wouldn't be a good idea, and one he wouldn't put past her. He finishes the glass regardless.
He's not put off by the idea of Flora's morning boot camp, too accustomed to the regiments required as a Dragoon and always looking for new ways to push himself. Though, admittedly, he prefers sparring over running, and he doesn't doubt she'll outlast him this morning, so he wisely keeps his ego in check lest he give her another easy point for the day. "I expect pancakes to be ready at the finish line."
Kaisel is an expert at not dwelling on the past, so the thundercloud brewing above his head is only a testament to the fact Flora chose to mark up their freshly cleaned scoreboard before he'd even opened his eyes. He's only mad he didn't think to rouse earlier—wouldn't have been the first time he got up before daybreak to play at war.
Flora's framed perfectly with the diffused light of the kitchen, nothing but softness and warmth visible in the tilt of her body on the counter, the drizzle of her sweet voice a veritable breakfast topping choice. It seems impossible she could be a sleepover villain, and yet, Kaisel's spine still ripples with the memory that proves otherwise. He offers her a blatantly mocking smile as he settles against the edge of the counter, but he takes her offered juice readily. As he tilts the glass back, a small, testing sip, his gaze slides accusingly towards Spice who gargoyles above. He sets the glass back down, audibly tasting, suspicious as his attention lazily coasts back to Flora and her hollow cheer. "Didn't spike this with a laxative or something did you?" He can't keep the humorous glint from his features, because damn if that wouldn't be a good idea, and one he wouldn't put past her. He finishes the glass regardless.
He's not put off by the idea of Flora's morning boot camp, too accustomed to the regiments required as a Dragoon and always looking for new ways to push himself. Though, admittedly, he prefers sparring over running, and he doesn't doubt she'll outlast him this morning, so he wisely keeps his ego in check lest he give her another easy point for the day. "I expect pancakes to be ready at the finish line."
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
