// Ring around the rosie - Pocket full of posie //
Shit. She's folding in anyway.
If the path to hell is paved with good intentions, it's a wonder he isn't already roasting in the eternal damnation of poorly chosen words and I didn't mean tos. Maybe it all starts with poorly chosen thoughts, ones that come too quick and too shallow, grasping for any strand that makes sense even if the shape isn't all there, like excitedly screaming circle when it's a completely flat line on one side. He does win charades often just by being the fastest to blurt out anything and everything, so, one small win?
Everything is telling him that yes would be the wrong answer to her question, even if, yeah. He doesn't intend to start lying to her now though, not the least of which is because of her fancy jewelry, but maybe something a little more detailed than a nod would serve better here. As he's grappling for the best way to say the thing, she continues, and a chill starts to creep in. While he's still got ahold of her, it feels like he's watching her tumble further and further away, impossibly caught beneath a frozen lake with only her hand above the ice. Worse, she's looking at him like he shoved her into the water and closed up the cold around her.
His other hand presses over the one they've kept linked, desperate to apply some heat, to haul her out onto dry land. "I think—" he swallows, his mouth suddenly run dry. "—That sometimes you're put in difficult positions and make the best choices with what you have available." It's said slow, purposefully careful, like maybe he could spot the pitfalls this time before they come. "There's no judgement," he rushes in to say though, caution yeeted away for the sake of reassuring her. "I had to get my toes sucked once in the Silk Houses—declined the hand job so also had to pay him..." There's a lot to be said about the lechery that happens in the darker allies of cities, and at least in Stormbreak he often saw that the only bribes those men had been interested in were docking in a woman's harbor (or a man's).
If the path to hell is paved with good intentions, it's a wonder he isn't already roasting in the eternal damnation of poorly chosen words and I didn't mean tos. Maybe it all starts with poorly chosen thoughts, ones that come too quick and too shallow, grasping for any strand that makes sense even if the shape isn't all there, like excitedly screaming circle when it's a completely flat line on one side. He does win charades often just by being the fastest to blurt out anything and everything, so, one small win?
Everything is telling him that yes would be the wrong answer to her question, even if, yeah. He doesn't intend to start lying to her now though, not the least of which is because of her fancy jewelry, but maybe something a little more detailed than a nod would serve better here. As he's grappling for the best way to say the thing, she continues, and a chill starts to creep in. While he's still got ahold of her, it feels like he's watching her tumble further and further away, impossibly caught beneath a frozen lake with only her hand above the ice. Worse, she's looking at him like he shoved her into the water and closed up the cold around her.
His other hand presses over the one they've kept linked, desperate to apply some heat, to haul her out onto dry land. "I think—" he swallows, his mouth suddenly run dry. "—That sometimes you're put in difficult positions and make the best choices with what you have available." It's said slow, purposefully careful, like maybe he could spot the pitfalls this time before they come. "There's no judgement," he rushes in to say though, caution yeeted away for the sake of reassuring her. "I had to get my toes sucked once in the Silk Houses—declined the hand job so also had to pay him..." There's a lot to be said about the lechery that happens in the darker allies of cities, and at least in Stormbreak he often saw that the only bribes those men had been interested in were docking in a woman's harbor (or a man's).
Kaisel
// I'ma fucking blow all the ashes down //
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
