Kaisel
One foot in the ground
One foot in the grave
One foot in the grave
There is a fleeting moment of triumph as the tickles stop and Flora stills. Relief comes like a flood, euphoria spinning through him as everything that had been tight unclenches and Kaisel sucks in breaths like a fish hauled out of the sea. The victory comes at a price. One perhaps too steep for him to pay, he realizes with abject horror as Flora's head turns towards him with all the pace of a surefooted killer stalking a big-titted slut to her front door. Sunlit from behind and glistening with the residual water droplets, Flora's wrath appears holy—she might not wield the cosmic might of an actual deity, but her drenched scorn will smite him all the same.
She's gone when he blinks. For all the trouble she's handed him at the sight of her, the lack of her leaves him more fucked than any pasty-protected breast ever could. His mouth runs dry—fucking crow and all her rings. "Floooooraaaa" he says warily, an attempt to reason with someone who's become mad. He props up on his forearms, on knee bent as his foot presses against the deck, ready for movement but cautious to make any blindly. His gaze narrows, as if he might discern her shimmering here or there, and his head tilts to listen.
Spice.
A shudder rolls through him as her voice skates across the deck, soft as a nightmare in daylight but no less terrible. Kaisel's eyes dart suddenly above, trying to track the oncoming bombing. He tenses, ready to roll out of the way, but is frozen by another means as breath buffets his ear, suddenly, vulnerably, so close and nefarious. It curls in time with a finger against his rib, and every imagined retaliation, every calculated grab for her invisible lingering, is dashed by the uncontrollable ripple of muscle and skin commanded by her touch. Kaisel laughs against his will, jerking away as his torso twists, Flora' exertion of mental and physical warfare something this Dragoon has not trained well enough for. "FlOrA!" he wails, a sound of fear, though honestly it's rimmed with delight at her fuckery even if its scary. One hand lurches out into the nothing to grasp for her, to wrest some form of control back if he can. "You started this," he hisses, as if that means anything, as if it means she'll ever let him end it.
He has not known true fear until now though.
As her command rings out, Kaisel's eyes widen, "NONONONO, YOU WIN!" A final plead for sensibility here before the dragon zips down, all too willing, and Kaisel screams as he clamps his legs shut, knees rising as an attempted barrier.
She's gone when he blinks. For all the trouble she's handed him at the sight of her, the lack of her leaves him more fucked than any pasty-protected breast ever could. His mouth runs dry—fucking crow and all her rings. "Floooooraaaa" he says warily, an attempt to reason with someone who's become mad. He props up on his forearms, on knee bent as his foot presses against the deck, ready for movement but cautious to make any blindly. His gaze narrows, as if he might discern her shimmering here or there, and his head tilts to listen.
Spice.
A shudder rolls through him as her voice skates across the deck, soft as a nightmare in daylight but no less terrible. Kaisel's eyes dart suddenly above, trying to track the oncoming bombing. He tenses, ready to roll out of the way, but is frozen by another means as breath buffets his ear, suddenly, vulnerably, so close and nefarious. It curls in time with a finger against his rib, and every imagined retaliation, every calculated grab for her invisible lingering, is dashed by the uncontrollable ripple of muscle and skin commanded by her touch. Kaisel laughs against his will, jerking away as his torso twists, Flora' exertion of mental and physical warfare something this Dragoon has not trained well enough for. "FlOrA!" he wails, a sound of fear, though honestly it's rimmed with delight at her fuckery even if its scary. One hand lurches out into the nothing to grasp for her, to wrest some form of control back if he can. "You started this," he hisses, as if that means anything, as if it means she'll ever let him end it.
He has not known true fear until now though.
As her command rings out, Kaisel's eyes widen, "NONONONO, YOU WIN!" A final plead for sensibility here before the dragon zips down, all too willing, and Kaisel screams as he clamps his legs shut, knees rising as an attempted barrier.
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
