Need a hundred lifetimes kinda love
"Nooo00000000000o!" he hollers back, the sound thundering up the narrow steps and hallway that lead from her deck to the kitchenette where he's doctoring up the latest batch of cocoa. Spice is supervising from the shelf above him, deeply judgmental about the amount of whipped cream and marshmallows he's using, which is just fine by him because what was he thinking before her corrections? Absolutely he needs to add more to meet the levels of her satisfaction. He does also send a dollop of the cream up her way, launching it from the placement on the back of his hand after slapping his wrist and knocking it up that direction for her to nab at—a mess he’d worry about later (aka completely forget about).
”Although, you can always give me mouth to mouth!” he trumpets cheerfully as he rises up the steps with their drinks each in hand. It’s a cautionary affair that requires every ounce of his concentration and skill, balancing the possibly overfull and giant mugs in each hand and swaying with every abrupt tug and tilt of the wind in the sails. Piping hot liquid threatens to scald him with any mistake, not to mention lose precious cargo in the process, and mountains of cream tip in exaggerated fashion that doesn’t quite seem possible before he straightens them each out.
He can only catch a glimpse of her over the rim of the mugs, each one half the size of his head at least and filled with perfectly brewed hot chocolate that’s mixed with chocolate Baileys. Piled high on top is a sheet of marshmallows that are doing their best impression of melting icebergs, not that they’re noticeable beneath the spire of whipped cream that’s so solid steam has a difficult time carving an escape hole from below. Fudge has been drizzled overtop the cream, and a small application of colorful sugar-sprinkles ads a magical shimmer as the sunset light catches on it just so. A candy cane hangs of the edge as a stir-stick beginning to erode into the faintest hint of peppermint with each sip.
The breeze up here instantly grabs at the ends of his violet scarf, which is looped only once around his neck and trails in a pair of uneven lines off to one side, long enough to reach his knees. His tan coat is too heavy to do much more than let it’s fuzzy lining ruffle at the collar, the rest of it open over a knit sweater that depicts a repeating pattern of variously colored dragons in flight. On his head is a snug, green cap that has forgone pom-poms for the sake of two fabric frog-eyes jutting out from either side of the top in an exaggerated and rounded fashion.
Glancing up at her in all her fuzzy glory, the hat which she absolutely did need to buy merrily bouncing along with her, his focus breaks into a broad smile. ”They’re ready, but suuuuuper hot still, so be careful,” he warns her as he finishes the epic journey across the deck to her side. He places hers down near her while she continues to man the wheel like a woman completely at home in the front seat of adventure. He also puts his down for now, grabbing a fingerful of cream and reaching out to swipe her nose with it, if only to serve as a distraction to sneak in for a raspberry at her neck when she goes for the feint.
”Although, you can always give me mouth to mouth!” he trumpets cheerfully as he rises up the steps with their drinks each in hand. It’s a cautionary affair that requires every ounce of his concentration and skill, balancing the possibly overfull and giant mugs in each hand and swaying with every abrupt tug and tilt of the wind in the sails. Piping hot liquid threatens to scald him with any mistake, not to mention lose precious cargo in the process, and mountains of cream tip in exaggerated fashion that doesn’t quite seem possible before he straightens them each out.
He can only catch a glimpse of her over the rim of the mugs, each one half the size of his head at least and filled with perfectly brewed hot chocolate that’s mixed with chocolate Baileys. Piled high on top is a sheet of marshmallows that are doing their best impression of melting icebergs, not that they’re noticeable beneath the spire of whipped cream that’s so solid steam has a difficult time carving an escape hole from below. Fudge has been drizzled overtop the cream, and a small application of colorful sugar-sprinkles ads a magical shimmer as the sunset light catches on it just so. A candy cane hangs of the edge as a stir-stick beginning to erode into the faintest hint of peppermint with each sip.
The breeze up here instantly grabs at the ends of his violet scarf, which is looped only once around his neck and trails in a pair of uneven lines off to one side, long enough to reach his knees. His tan coat is too heavy to do much more than let it’s fuzzy lining ruffle at the collar, the rest of it open over a knit sweater that depicts a repeating pattern of variously colored dragons in flight. On his head is a snug, green cap that has forgone pom-poms for the sake of two fabric frog-eyes jutting out from either side of the top in an exaggerated and rounded fashion.
Glancing up at her in all her fuzzy glory, the hat which she absolutely did need to buy merrily bouncing along with her, his focus breaks into a broad smile. ”They’re ready, but suuuuuper hot still, so be careful,” he warns her as he finishes the epic journey across the deck to her side. He places hers down near her while she continues to man the wheel like a woman completely at home in the front seat of adventure. He also puts his down for now, grabbing a fingerful of cream and reaching out to swipe her nose with it, if only to serve as a distraction to sneak in for a raspberry at her neck when she goes for the feint.
Kaisel
I could say forever, but forever ain't long enough
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
