I'm not giving up, kicking off the rust
At the clear indicator, he turns, tracking her as she kneels against the basket of creams and wraps. This image of her in a towel is so at odds with the last one he saw her in that can't really believe it's the same person he's looking at. In so many ways, it isn't.
Already teetering on unsteady ground, unsettled by something he's never felt between them before, her question about Caly catches him so off guard that he nervously laughs out a "What?" It's the sound he'd been trying to reclaim between them, laughter, but this one is nothing other than disbelief wearing a disguise. It feels too loud and abrupt against all the sorrow and confusion that's settled here like a fog, made all the worse for its lack of heat. All he feels is the cold sting of failure.
Even if he hadn't ruined everything, doing exactly this, Caly's name feels strange to hear in this space that is entirely Flora, with everything in him straining to resurface her golden splendor. He doesn't recognize it as something deliberate that Flora set down between them, not that it had mattered last time, but they each have tried to make it mean something heavier since then. He's assuming she's still trying for normal though, a soft light trying to cut through the cloud cover that's swept in too low and lingered like trapped mist, disorienting if the shine on it is too bright. "It was... amazing." He softens a touch with the memory of it, because now it feels like maybe the only one he'll get to keep, tucked in alongside the one with Flora. Things to just imagine rather than have. "We wandered around Halo's city. Ate some good food, flew some kites, just took in all the nice sights there." Simple, he supposes, but steeped with conversation and time at each other's sides, which is always enough for him.
He exhales steadily, letting go of that image that's just a dream now as he steps back towards her, reaching for the cream she's plucked free. "Oh yeah?" he says with a near scoff, trying to hold back the twist of his gut. "That's a neat trick I suppose, but I think I'd prefer the real thing." He's got enough imaginary ones he's already holding onto, he doesn't want to come here and pretend even more than he already does. "Doesn't matter anyway," he mutters, "I don't think she'll ever see me again." He doesn't mean to let the bitter admission free, not when Flora is the one who's hurt here, still trying to glue pieces of herself back together, not the least of which are the marks on her back.
Already teetering on unsteady ground, unsettled by something he's never felt between them before, her question about Caly catches him so off guard that he nervously laughs out a "What?" It's the sound he'd been trying to reclaim between them, laughter, but this one is nothing other than disbelief wearing a disguise. It feels too loud and abrupt against all the sorrow and confusion that's settled here like a fog, made all the worse for its lack of heat. All he feels is the cold sting of failure.
Even if he hadn't ruined everything, doing exactly this, Caly's name feels strange to hear in this space that is entirely Flora, with everything in him straining to resurface her golden splendor. He doesn't recognize it as something deliberate that Flora set down between them, not that it had mattered last time, but they each have tried to make it mean something heavier since then. He's assuming she's still trying for normal though, a soft light trying to cut through the cloud cover that's swept in too low and lingered like trapped mist, disorienting if the shine on it is too bright. "It was... amazing." He softens a touch with the memory of it, because now it feels like maybe the only one he'll get to keep, tucked in alongside the one with Flora. Things to just imagine rather than have. "We wandered around Halo's city. Ate some good food, flew some kites, just took in all the nice sights there." Simple, he supposes, but steeped with conversation and time at each other's sides, which is always enough for him.
He exhales steadily, letting go of that image that's just a dream now as he steps back towards her, reaching for the cream she's plucked free. "Oh yeah?" he says with a near scoff, trying to hold back the twist of his gut. "That's a neat trick I suppose, but I think I'd prefer the real thing." He's got enough imaginary ones he's already holding onto, he doesn't want to come here and pretend even more than he already does. "Doesn't matter anyway," he mutters, "I don't think she'll ever see me again." He doesn't mean to let the bitter admission free, not when Flora is the one who's hurt here, still trying to glue pieces of herself back together, not the least of which are the marks on her back.
Kaisel
I keep acting tough but maybe I'm not good enough
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
