You won't stay with me, I know
"Always glad to be of service," Koa drawls in reply, though his ears do color slightly as this playful jab hits home. Forcing down the sting of the memory (memories, because there was a plethora of miscommunications to choose from), he decides to double down on bees. "Right? Can you imagine void bees? Big purple fuckers, always stinging at your eyes." He shudders dramatically at the notion, which somehow still upsets him less than the idea of Flora fleeing again.
The earth feels unsteady beneath his feet, wrong, which he supposes makes sense considering it's not earth. It's something quite literally alien, and that idea sends another shiver down the Dragoon's spine. His fingers run over the ties on his bracers, making certain they're secure, finding comfort in the familiar weight of the leather on his wrists. From the corner of his eye he catches the glint of hazy sunlight on gold as Flora flicks a feather with expert precision, like a juggler warming up for her act. It's reassuring, and he feels his nerves unclenching: whatever bullshit might come for them, he knows they're well prepared.
The smooth challenge of her voice infiltrates his thoughts; Koa smirks, half-turning to Flora, his own brow raised in turn. Honestly he has no idea if he can still compete with the Doubletake, but the young Dragoon's competitive nature prohibits him from turning down a challenge. "One way to find out," he counters - then snaps toward her, projecting an open-palmed blow to the hand that holds the deadly feather in hopes of knocking it from her grip.
1/4
The earth feels unsteady beneath his feet, wrong, which he supposes makes sense considering it's not earth. It's something quite literally alien, and that idea sends another shiver down the Dragoon's spine. His fingers run over the ties on his bracers, making certain they're secure, finding comfort in the familiar weight of the leather on his wrists. From the corner of his eye he catches the glint of hazy sunlight on gold as Flora flicks a feather with expert precision, like a juggler warming up for her act. It's reassuring, and he feels his nerves unclenching: whatever bullshit might come for them, he knows they're well prepared.
The smooth challenge of her voice infiltrates his thoughts; Koa smirks, half-turning to Flora, his own brow raised in turn. Honestly he has no idea if he can still compete with the Doubletake, but the young Dragoon's competitive nature prohibits him from turning down a challenge. "One way to find out," he counters - then snaps toward her, projecting an open-palmed blow to the hand that holds the deadly feather in hopes of knocking it from her grip.
1/4
Koa
But you can have your way with me Till you go
