// If the world was ending, I'd wanna be next to you //
Whatever he had picked up on while they walked, he'd attributed it to the usual prickles she bore, ones he didn't always feel the sting of, but that he often noticed all the same. She feeds a steady supply of fire with her anger and ire, its source ever changing, but undoubtedly bottomless. It's a fury that he has admired for its honesty and its terrible force, not unlike her own brand of nature set loose upon the world. So the notion that his fumbling with romance is what currently pops and blazes, is the last thought on his mind.
She is not though—she is nearly every thought. Especially now that she's stripped from all her windbreaking puff, leaving her much more bare than he's seen her in weeks, a reminder that he's got to adventure with her outside of Halo more often. He steals his glances through a gap over the kitchen counter, a fond smile slipping in at seeing his sweater cling to her, looking far better on her shoulders than it ever had on his.
Despite her refusal, he sets down a second mug as he stirs the cider into almost boiling while she begins to fret over needle and cloth. "What we end up doing?" he parrots back as his 'brow furrows while he pours them each a mug. "I thought there'd be mysterious dancing or some such." A terrifying thought, to be honest. He hasn't ever attended a dance, but at least in making the costume alongside her he'll be able to tell who she is among the throng of darkness and rags. Coming back from the kitchen, he sets her cider down wordlessly on a coaster that appears to just be a piece of a shaved tree limb, his own set on the space across from her, steam rising in a constant curl. He settles onto the ground with a groan, nearly immediately tackled by Goose, who does not often get to have people on the floor with him. Muttering under his breath Iskra attempts to wrestle the dog off, trying very hard not to over excite the mongrel in the process, which earns a series of excited yips. "Gods, Goose, get off you beast," he complains, shoving the husky back only for the dog to bound back in. "Mel—throw something," he begs.
She is not though—she is nearly every thought. Especially now that she's stripped from all her windbreaking puff, leaving her much more bare than he's seen her in weeks, a reminder that he's got to adventure with her outside of Halo more often. He steals his glances through a gap over the kitchen counter, a fond smile slipping in at seeing his sweater cling to her, looking far better on her shoulders than it ever had on his.
Despite her refusal, he sets down a second mug as he stirs the cider into almost boiling while she begins to fret over needle and cloth. "What we end up doing?" he parrots back as his 'brow furrows while he pours them each a mug. "I thought there'd be mysterious dancing or some such." A terrifying thought, to be honest. He hasn't ever attended a dance, but at least in making the costume alongside her he'll be able to tell who she is among the throng of darkness and rags. Coming back from the kitchen, he sets her cider down wordlessly on a coaster that appears to just be a piece of a shaved tree limb, his own set on the space across from her, steam rising in a constant curl. He settles onto the ground with a groan, nearly immediately tackled by Goose, who does not often get to have people on the floor with him. Muttering under his breath Iskra attempts to wrestle the dog off, trying very hard not to over excite the mongrel in the process, which earns a series of excited yips. "Gods, Goose, get off you beast," he complains, shoving the husky back only for the dog to bound back in. "Mel—throw something," he begs.
ISKRA
// I'd wanna hold you just for a while and die with a smile //
