Kaisel
One foot in the ground
One foot in the grave
One foot in the grave
Try as he might, Kaisel cannot give her the relief she needs, in any manner. He doesn't know all the finer details of her heartaches to sort through the minutia with her and help her see where she's overthinking or where she misunderstood because she was hurt. And he can't—he won't—be the one she eases her physical needs with, although that just screams of her trying to avoid the hurt by burying it in orgasms. Which does sound nice, but it won't actually accomplish much in the long run in terms of sorting through all her shit and putting things to bed. All he can do is try his best to convince her she's more than everything she's put behind her, that there's something better ahead still, because to him, she seems convinced there's nothing left but gloomy skies.
She's lost a lot, he tries to remind himself. She's adrift now and desperately needs an anchor. Needs something good.
"Don't we all," he snorts as she jokes about needing a lay, and if he squeezes her hand again then, he doesn't mean to. Her foots shifts then, and his eyes widen a bit before narrowing accusingly at her as he presses back against her with his palm. Harmless he reminds himself. "I think you just need someone to torture endlessly," he counters with a huff. "Guess that's what I'm for." he smirks, teasing, kinda. She certainly knows what she does, that's clear to him now, and that makes it so much more dangerous—it's much harder to ignore intent than accident. Still, she's so damn charming about it.
"I wouldn't miss it for the world," he reassures her with a broad grin, already planning his outfit (she better appreciate such forethought). He glances down, picking her hand up then and inspecting it. Seeming to find a flaw, he shakes his head disapprovingly, dropping her hand with feigned disgust. "You're going to need to do your nails before then girl." he makes a face, laughing. "C'mon, get the polish and I can work on them now, and you can tell me all the miserable things you're still sitting on, like Koa's bad breath."
She's lost a lot, he tries to remind himself. She's adrift now and desperately needs an anchor. Needs something good.
"Don't we all," he snorts as she jokes about needing a lay, and if he squeezes her hand again then, he doesn't mean to. Her foots shifts then, and his eyes widen a bit before narrowing accusingly at her as he presses back against her with his palm. Harmless he reminds himself. "I think you just need someone to torture endlessly," he counters with a huff. "Guess that's what I'm for." he smirks, teasing, kinda. She certainly knows what she does, that's clear to him now, and that makes it so much more dangerous—it's much harder to ignore intent than accident. Still, she's so damn charming about it.
"I wouldn't miss it for the world," he reassures her with a broad grin, already planning his outfit (she better appreciate such forethought). He glances down, picking her hand up then and inspecting it. Seeming to find a flaw, he shakes his head disapprovingly, dropping her hand with feigned disgust. "You're going to need to do your nails before then girl." he makes a face, laughing. "C'mon, get the polish and I can work on them now, and you can tell me all the miserable things you're still sitting on, like Koa's bad breath."
It's not the devil at your door
It's just your shadow on the floor
It's just your shadow on the floor
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
