Need a hundred lifetimes kinda love
His gaze immediately lifts to the laughing presence that joins them, a smile reaching out as Frey responds to the call. Rather like the scenery around them given a body and a voice, the nature god's kind amusement and redirection bring the necessary aide. In a splash of starlight and a song that could sound almost mournful, Kaisel watches the departing shapes of speckled darkness sweep away back into the bright stream of the aurora. Spice's punctuating agreement to the departure is one that immediately captures his focus, an anxious laugh breaking apart with relief rising to the dragon's newfound confidence. "Spice! Oh my gods, I'm glad you're okay," he sighs, melting a bit further into the deck.
The dull throb of all the places he'd unexpectedly kissed the deck thanks to the ground of the Sugartide rolling to the whims of the whales creeps in past the rush of worry. The steadier breath of being out of immediate danger lets every small bit that'd been held at bay some sprinkling in, now acutely aware of every bit of what'd gone wrong. He doesn't catalogue every broken bit, not yet, not when his focus is finding her across the deck to reassure himself that she's as whole as he left her from the last bump. The wreckage seeps in on his peripherals though, landing with a sinking reality of how quickly everything that'd been whole became undone.
He shoves through his aches, luckily nothing major, a hand brushing over splintered bow as he positions himself to stand. It's wobbly, like his legs are half gelatin and certain the deck will vanish or rise up into him again. "Flora?" he questions, trying to keep the wariness down, pushing in a steady calm for both their sakes despite the unwell way she hangs there. Concern sharpens in his features though as she also moves to close the gap, her struggle too profound to be uninjured, though he doesn't yet realize the only real marks she bears are internal. His pace quickens as she starts to crumple, alarm lighting up every nerve as he grabs for her, ready to catch her weight on his chest and in the brace of his arms. "Baby, for what?" he says swiftly after her puzzling apology. "You got nothing to be sorry for," he reassures, tucking his chin over her hair and pressing her tighter into his hold, like pressure alone could be all she needs to smooth her over. He can piece it together well enough, her history of shouldering guilt she shouldn't making it clear once the surprise passes. "It's good. We're good," he murmurs slower and lower into her hair, pulling the high tempo of the energy down into something that demands the hush of heartbeats and tears to be heard.
The dull throb of all the places he'd unexpectedly kissed the deck thanks to the ground of the Sugartide rolling to the whims of the whales creeps in past the rush of worry. The steadier breath of being out of immediate danger lets every small bit that'd been held at bay some sprinkling in, now acutely aware of every bit of what'd gone wrong. He doesn't catalogue every broken bit, not yet, not when his focus is finding her across the deck to reassure himself that she's as whole as he left her from the last bump. The wreckage seeps in on his peripherals though, landing with a sinking reality of how quickly everything that'd been whole became undone.
He shoves through his aches, luckily nothing major, a hand brushing over splintered bow as he positions himself to stand. It's wobbly, like his legs are half gelatin and certain the deck will vanish or rise up into him again. "Flora?" he questions, trying to keep the wariness down, pushing in a steady calm for both their sakes despite the unwell way she hangs there. Concern sharpens in his features though as she also moves to close the gap, her struggle too profound to be uninjured, though he doesn't yet realize the only real marks she bears are internal. His pace quickens as she starts to crumple, alarm lighting up every nerve as he grabs for her, ready to catch her weight on his chest and in the brace of his arms. "Baby, for what?" he says swiftly after her puzzling apology. "You got nothing to be sorry for," he reassures, tucking his chin over her hair and pressing her tighter into his hold, like pressure alone could be all she needs to smooth her over. He can piece it together well enough, her history of shouldering guilt she shouldn't making it clear once the surprise passes. "It's good. We're good," he murmurs slower and lower into her hair, pulling the high tempo of the energy down into something that demands the hush of heartbeats and tears to be heard.
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
