// If the world was ending, I'd wanna be next to you //
The victory of toppling her is short lived when she writhes and bucks like her life depends upon it. It's everything in his to dodge every flailing limb, ones he knows are holding little back, a wonder at all that she hasn't conjured up some magic or dagger just to secure her triumph. That she hasn't, that they're still on relatively even footing, only feeds into his contuined attemps. He has no real plan. It's entirely devolved, all he knows is he means to conquer her stubbornness with his own, that sewing is boring, that wrestling against her is an excuse to hold her, even if it's lacking all the tenderness he might otherwise wish to provide in the quiet moments where he contemplates it.
The question she tosses out strikes him with the same force as her pillow, and he stills a bit, giving her some headway. "Fighting over stupid shit?" he asks, a bit breathless with the effort of hauling her down and trying to contain her, the true point of her words completely slipping past him. "Tackle pillow fight," he clarifies after a moment of thought, naming the game like it's always been intentional. Goose's barks die down a bit, but he stands int he hallway, staring with a half-wagging tail, just as unsure as either of them what the hell is going on.
The question she tosses out strikes him with the same force as her pillow, and he stills a bit, giving her some headway. "Fighting over stupid shit?" he asks, a bit breathless with the effort of hauling her down and trying to contain her, the true point of her words completely slipping past him. "Tackle pillow fight," he clarifies after a moment of thought, naming the game like it's always been intentional. Goose's barks die down a bit, but he stands int he hallway, staring with a half-wagging tail, just as unsure as either of them what the hell is going on.
ISKRA
// I'd wanna hold you just for a while and die with a smile //
