// Ring around the rosie - Pocket full of posie //
He grumbles around her explanation, equally caught on all the same feelings as she is. It's surprising, how quickly everything has just become a fucking mess, all from him bumbling through his feelings. "It does seem like a family worth avoiding at all costs at this point," he remarks with the faintest twist of a smile. "They're much more dramatic than us," which is saying a lot, since they're both queens in that regard. As he quickly learned, dating Caly also meant dating her entire family, goddess included. His features soften a bit, the idea fully releasing into the void where all his other half-baked schemes have gone to perish. "Alright, alright, no picking fights," he relents with a sigh.
His head shifts a bit, gaze trailing after the hand she claims and lifts to her chest. It's such a wholly tender thing she does, cradling him against her heart and beneath both her palms, her chin even, that he can't help but melt into it. His focus lifts from the grasp to the soft blush still creeping against her cheeks, to the flutter of her lashes as she works around memory and hurt, to that bright assurance steadily breaking through the storms in her eyes. Her resilience has always been an inspiring thing to behold.
What she has to say at first offers little comfort, and his fingers twitch against her chest as if they could coil that grief around and yank it free from her, little more than a weed to be pulled and spare her its choking growth. "I'm sorry," he frowns, because the words feel too pointless and empty, especially now. She only presses in firmer though, slowing his breath. He'd not thought about their father affecting her. It adds another knot to everything, and he's unsure how he'd been so blind to not realize the impact of seeing B.M.F.'s children in her spaces, all the while wearing the features of someone other than her. No, he's sure she couldn't really have worked alongside them, though she would have tried her best and hurt for it each day. Much as he and Caly likely wouldn't have made it through another family gathering, albeit the reasons for the chafing are completely different.
The brush of her lips flutters down his arm, almost making it to his mouth, a long distance kiss, but his chest holds onto the feeling instead. His heart shifts like a buoy in the tide, the sensation bailing out some of the seawater that's been seeping in, more cracks present than he knew. The moment the sparkle of her sea-tossed stare slips over the rim of his knuckles, he exhales, not sure when he started to hold his breath, but grateful she returned it.
She pulls him fully into her warmth and certainty, smoothing the worry that creases the corners of him. The smile that comes in starts as an unsure, wavering thing—something newly born and shy. It soon bolts across his face, accompanied by a bout of laughter, so overwhelmed with all the love she just offered that he has to spill some of it out or he'll burst.
He spins to the side, rolling her over with him, quick and needy with the urge to kiss her. Sequins rasp against skin, her hair spreading wild around her, and he glances down for just a moment as the last chuckle of disbelief spends itself. His hands slide up to wreath her face, cupping her cheeks as he leans down—not just to kiss her, but to smother all their losses until all that's left is this brilliant gain between them. It's not neat—it crashes and tugs, pulling her in like he could swallow this moment and anchor it inside his chest, where nothing could break it apart again. His lips press with desperate reverence, with the buzz of laughter still lingering, with the ache of grief turning into something fierce. It's so devastatingly clear now, that whatever the wreckage, they'll build something better together.
"Flora," his breath is ragged as he tilts to the side of her, only breaking once they need to. "You'll always have me, and I'll always have you," he says it soft, the words breaking just over her cheek, but it's resolute. His gaze stays lit on her, lips coursing all over her face, delivering faint smooches as he goes to her nose, her 'brow, her chin. "Let's make a bigger, better bar," he suggests, hands slipping into her hair, forehead pressing in on hers. "Let's make a bakery, and a dress shop, and a spa. We could build a whole addition to this city—Floraville. Floratopolis." He chuckles, absurd and in love and they feel the same right now as he leans in for another kiss.
His head shifts a bit, gaze trailing after the hand she claims and lifts to her chest. It's such a wholly tender thing she does, cradling him against her heart and beneath both her palms, her chin even, that he can't help but melt into it. His focus lifts from the grasp to the soft blush still creeping against her cheeks, to the flutter of her lashes as she works around memory and hurt, to that bright assurance steadily breaking through the storms in her eyes. Her resilience has always been an inspiring thing to behold.
What she has to say at first offers little comfort, and his fingers twitch against her chest as if they could coil that grief around and yank it free from her, little more than a weed to be pulled and spare her its choking growth. "I'm sorry," he frowns, because the words feel too pointless and empty, especially now. She only presses in firmer though, slowing his breath. He'd not thought about their father affecting her. It adds another knot to everything, and he's unsure how he'd been so blind to not realize the impact of seeing B.M.F.'s children in her spaces, all the while wearing the features of someone other than her. No, he's sure she couldn't really have worked alongside them, though she would have tried her best and hurt for it each day. Much as he and Caly likely wouldn't have made it through another family gathering, albeit the reasons for the chafing are completely different.
The brush of her lips flutters down his arm, almost making it to his mouth, a long distance kiss, but his chest holds onto the feeling instead. His heart shifts like a buoy in the tide, the sensation bailing out some of the seawater that's been seeping in, more cracks present than he knew. The moment the sparkle of her sea-tossed stare slips over the rim of his knuckles, he exhales, not sure when he started to hold his breath, but grateful she returned it.
She pulls him fully into her warmth and certainty, smoothing the worry that creases the corners of him. The smile that comes in starts as an unsure, wavering thing—something newly born and shy. It soon bolts across his face, accompanied by a bout of laughter, so overwhelmed with all the love she just offered that he has to spill some of it out or he'll burst.
He spins to the side, rolling her over with him, quick and needy with the urge to kiss her. Sequins rasp against skin, her hair spreading wild around her, and he glances down for just a moment as the last chuckle of disbelief spends itself. His hands slide up to wreath her face, cupping her cheeks as he leans down—not just to kiss her, but to smother all their losses until all that's left is this brilliant gain between them. It's not neat—it crashes and tugs, pulling her in like he could swallow this moment and anchor it inside his chest, where nothing could break it apart again. His lips press with desperate reverence, with the buzz of laughter still lingering, with the ache of grief turning into something fierce. It's so devastatingly clear now, that whatever the wreckage, they'll build something better together.
"Flora," his breath is ragged as he tilts to the side of her, only breaking once they need to. "You'll always have me, and I'll always have you," he says it soft, the words breaking just over her cheek, but it's resolute. His gaze stays lit on her, lips coursing all over her face, delivering faint smooches as he goes to her nose, her 'brow, her chin. "Let's make a bigger, better bar," he suggests, hands slipping into her hair, forehead pressing in on hers. "Let's make a bakery, and a dress shop, and a spa. We could build a whole addition to this city—Floraville. Floratopolis." He chuckles, absurd and in love and they feel the same right now as he leans in for another kiss.
Kaisel
// I'ma fucking blow all the ashes down //
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
