// Ring around the rosie - Pocket full of posie //
He genuinely pauses to consider, features drawn up with the seriousness of the question she poses, the sound of the thought process humming on his tongue. "I thiiiiink, I wouldn't want to be designated to zones, unless they're like every six feet, at which point the budget for the signs would become ludicrous. It'll just be a known rule for everyone to avoid us when we're lying around. Could pass out little pamphlets to everyone who arrives." His smile gets wider and wider as he talks, absolutely running away with the idea of this perfect city for them.
His 'brows hit his hair as she casually spills the tea about his chosen gown, talking about another near-death like it's as casual as the day's weather. "Oh my gods," he croaks, caught between an incredulous laugh that's as much hysteria as humor, and also the tight grip of actual concern. "I think you need to write some memoirs. Or turn all the shit you've been through into a novel—the main character's name could be Phlora, with a ph, or Arolf." Would certainly be an interesting read. "You'll have to give me the deets of this meeting while we change, otherwise we're never leaving this floor." Which, is not the worst thing, but there is a great deal more comfortable places and things to be had here.
"No," he tuts with a finger tap to her nose, grip loosening in her hair. "You asked if you could borrow my clothes, not the shirt I currently had on." He had just happened to offer that one to her for them to share. "I was planning on you giving me a fashion show," he confesses, his grin a bit wild again with the idea. "Besides, it was your bottoms that seemed the most in need. Although, I'm not complaining." In fact, maybe rule two of Floraopolis is that she always runs around in her panties, please.
He lingers in the moment where she tucks his hair back into place (as if it won't immediately pop free while he struggles to stand). Antics paused, for a moment, he leans into the affection, gaze half-closing with the peace of it. He turns to deliver a kiss to her arm before it falls away, sneaking them in whenever and wherever he can. Her remark stirs a breathy laugh though, and the look he gives her is pure adoration. "I don't think that's possible, everything looks stunning on you. Doesn't matter if it's an oversized, moth-bitten t-shirt or a diamond-studded dress." His smile slants into something more mischievous before he abandons the ground completely. "Although, if you think so, perhaps we'll have to get one that fits me proper and we'll both go be the belle of the ball."
After getting up with some effort, he gratefully takes the drink she offers. "I'm sure I'd break my neck," he says with a shake of his head before sipping on the edge of the glass. "So, I was thinking," he motions with his free hand towards the closet. "I have a Hadama shirt we could cut up? Although that's more arts and crafts than wardrobe," He holds up his Sunjata shirt instead, tucking it under his chin while also grabbing for his dragon one and holding it up for her approval.
His 'brows hit his hair as she casually spills the tea about his chosen gown, talking about another near-death like it's as casual as the day's weather. "Oh my gods," he croaks, caught between an incredulous laugh that's as much hysteria as humor, and also the tight grip of actual concern. "I think you need to write some memoirs. Or turn all the shit you've been through into a novel—the main character's name could be Phlora, with a ph, or Arolf." Would certainly be an interesting read. "You'll have to give me the deets of this meeting while we change, otherwise we're never leaving this floor." Which, is not the worst thing, but there is a great deal more comfortable places and things to be had here.
"No," he tuts with a finger tap to her nose, grip loosening in her hair. "You asked if you could borrow my clothes, not the shirt I currently had on." He had just happened to offer that one to her for them to share. "I was planning on you giving me a fashion show," he confesses, his grin a bit wild again with the idea. "Besides, it was your bottoms that seemed the most in need. Although, I'm not complaining." In fact, maybe rule two of Floraopolis is that she always runs around in her panties, please.
He lingers in the moment where she tucks his hair back into place (as if it won't immediately pop free while he struggles to stand). Antics paused, for a moment, he leans into the affection, gaze half-closing with the peace of it. He turns to deliver a kiss to her arm before it falls away, sneaking them in whenever and wherever he can. Her remark stirs a breathy laugh though, and the look he gives her is pure adoration. "I don't think that's possible, everything looks stunning on you. Doesn't matter if it's an oversized, moth-bitten t-shirt or a diamond-studded dress." His smile slants into something more mischievous before he abandons the ground completely. "Although, if you think so, perhaps we'll have to get one that fits me proper and we'll both go be the belle of the ball."
After getting up with some effort, he gratefully takes the drink she offers. "I'm sure I'd break my neck," he says with a shake of his head before sipping on the edge of the glass. "So, I was thinking," he motions with his free hand towards the closet. "I have a Hadama shirt we could cut up? Although that's more arts and crafts than wardrobe," He holds up his Sunjata shirt instead, tucking it under his chin while also grabbing for his dragon one and holding it up for her approval.
Kaisel
// I'ma fucking blow all the ashes down //
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
