Kaisel
Oh, he didn't realize he signed up for a field trip of Torchline's local customs tonight. Hop aboard the nude tour everyone, it's headed straight to Flora's house!
"I do!" he blurts out, fingers pecking at his chest, like she might lose sight of him otherwise. "Or—I guess that makes me no one, so sure, it doesn't matter." The bitterness swells thick on his tongue, hard to swallow. He rakes a hand through his hair, trying to unknot the tension strung through him like wire. "Board shorts have always been comfortable for me," he frowns, a shrug of his lips. Almost like wearing clothes instead of wandering everywhere butt ass naked is a thing for a reason, and stripping them away is something usually done in private, you know, outside of Torchline evidently.
His gaze is sharp on her now, searching for anything, any flicker, that could give him a clean answer. He’s got no truth ring to warn him, and though he's always believed her, he's never had to demand an answer before either. All he has is her face, her voice, each becoming more guarded as she ducks behind folded arms and angled tones. Still, her no is something he seizes like a lifeline, brief but meaningful.
Then the laughter hits, attempting to scour away that fragile relief. It needles in with a way he's never known that sound to do, keeping away any hope when he hears sorry. His hands grapple with air at his sides, fighting for purchase and finding none. "When the fuck did this become about trust?" he fires back, hands lifting with emphasis, features falling into a hurt curl with the blow of that. He snorts, both hands moving to rub at his temples. He keeps them pressed there, like oddly comforting gills on his face. "This is about want," he insists, leaning toward her with the emphasis of the word before shifting back again. "And the fact that you want to be naked with two other dudes." Yeah, yeah, comfort only, apparently.
He sighs, hands spread helplessly in the space between them. It's a quiet admittance that he doesn't know how to get a hold around how blasé she is about something that means something more to him. "I’m not jealous," he says after a beat, voice low and thin. "I just don’t get how this is supposed to be nothing. It's personal, to me." The heat has all slipped out of his tone now, leaving something dull and heavy behind—an exhaustion that can’t quite settle before the next wave hits. "It’s not about them, it’s—" His breath drags out the frustration of trying to explain what feels obvious. "I don't get why you wanna do something with them that feels like it should be ours."
"I do!" he blurts out, fingers pecking at his chest, like she might lose sight of him otherwise. "Or—I guess that makes me no one, so sure, it doesn't matter." The bitterness swells thick on his tongue, hard to swallow. He rakes a hand through his hair, trying to unknot the tension strung through him like wire. "Board shorts have always been comfortable for me," he frowns, a shrug of his lips. Almost like wearing clothes instead of wandering everywhere butt ass naked is a thing for a reason, and stripping them away is something usually done in private, you know, outside of Torchline evidently.
His gaze is sharp on her now, searching for anything, any flicker, that could give him a clean answer. He’s got no truth ring to warn him, and though he's always believed her, he's never had to demand an answer before either. All he has is her face, her voice, each becoming more guarded as she ducks behind folded arms and angled tones. Still, her no is something he seizes like a lifeline, brief but meaningful.
Then the laughter hits, attempting to scour away that fragile relief. It needles in with a way he's never known that sound to do, keeping away any hope when he hears sorry. His hands grapple with air at his sides, fighting for purchase and finding none. "When the fuck did this become about trust?" he fires back, hands lifting with emphasis, features falling into a hurt curl with the blow of that. He snorts, both hands moving to rub at his temples. He keeps them pressed there, like oddly comforting gills on his face. "This is about want," he insists, leaning toward her with the emphasis of the word before shifting back again. "And the fact that you want to be naked with two other dudes." Yeah, yeah, comfort only, apparently.
He sighs, hands spread helplessly in the space between them. It's a quiet admittance that he doesn't know how to get a hold around how blasé she is about something that means something more to him. "I’m not jealous," he says after a beat, voice low and thin. "I just don’t get how this is supposed to be nothing. It's personal, to me." The heat has all slipped out of his tone now, leaving something dull and heavy behind—an exhaustion that can’t quite settle before the next wave hits. "It’s not about them, it’s—" His breath drags out the frustration of trying to explain what feels obvious. "I don't get why you wanna do something with them that feels like it should be ours."
Wanted me to fail out of spite, I didn't
All bark but they don't bite, they timid
All bark but they don't bite, they timid
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
