I'm not giving up, kicking off the rust
Since he'd been using the door to help prop up his weight, which suddenly seems too much for his legs to manage alone, he's rather messily spilling in to meet the rush of her. Their collision is nothing graceful, and he's forced to take a wide, staggering step or two around her to catch the both of them, which is just as well as she's also trying to sweep them back behind the door like a secret that can't be seen.
The sight of her hits him sharp and strong, moreso than any of the drinks he'd been sampling from the array she'd laid out at the bar. "Whasrong?" he wonders with a crease to his 'brow, the words filling the space between his name and Sunjata's. She clings to him like any space between them now could be fatal, and it's an insistence that doubles his worry, sending it reeling into wild proportions. He's cradled her through tears a few times now, but this feels like something else—not wounds from monsters, not indecision of the heart, not the loss of a king or a bar and guild rich with history.
He holds her in return like it's instinct, a hand cupping the back of her head and the other curling tight around the middle of her back. He keeps the unsteady sway of their joined movements working towards something helpful. With hers half-dead with some kind of defeat and his wavering like gravity is optional, he waddles them to and fro until he can lean against the sink, the solid embrace like a sigh of relief to the threat of toppling over. That Sunjata's name is the first thing she manages to provide doesn't help in the slightest, combined with orgy accusations, he's at a complete loss for what the fuck is happening. "Hey, hey, hey," he mumbles, trying to soothe, the hand at her hair brushing a thumb back and forth against the base of her neck. A small movement, as much for him as her, finding distraction in the physical sensation like it alone could keep the world quiet and still.
Her broken explanation dissolves into a request, and he responds with a tighter grip before his voice lifts. "Yeah, I got you. I got you Flora," he murmurs, chin folding over her shoulder, breath ghosting near her ear. His hand falls from her head, wreathing around her shoulders for something that won't allow much distance, even for breath. His head tilts further into hers, brushing as he presses a slow, long series of kisses into her temple, content not to say anything and let the hum of their pulses match and slow into calm.
The sight of her hits him sharp and strong, moreso than any of the drinks he'd been sampling from the array she'd laid out at the bar. "Whasrong?" he wonders with a crease to his 'brow, the words filling the space between his name and Sunjata's. She clings to him like any space between them now could be fatal, and it's an insistence that doubles his worry, sending it reeling into wild proportions. He's cradled her through tears a few times now, but this feels like something else—not wounds from monsters, not indecision of the heart, not the loss of a king or a bar and guild rich with history.
He holds her in return like it's instinct, a hand cupping the back of her head and the other curling tight around the middle of her back. He keeps the unsteady sway of their joined movements working towards something helpful. With hers half-dead with some kind of defeat and his wavering like gravity is optional, he waddles them to and fro until he can lean against the sink, the solid embrace like a sigh of relief to the threat of toppling over. That Sunjata's name is the first thing she manages to provide doesn't help in the slightest, combined with orgy accusations, he's at a complete loss for what the fuck is happening. "Hey, hey, hey," he mumbles, trying to soothe, the hand at her hair brushing a thumb back and forth against the base of her neck. A small movement, as much for him as her, finding distraction in the physical sensation like it alone could keep the world quiet and still.
Her broken explanation dissolves into a request, and he responds with a tighter grip before his voice lifts. "Yeah, I got you. I got you Flora," he murmurs, chin folding over her shoulder, breath ghosting near her ear. His hand falls from her head, wreathing around her shoulders for something that won't allow much distance, even for breath. His head tilts further into hers, brushing as he presses a slow, long series of kisses into her temple, content not to say anything and let the hum of their pulses match and slow into calm.
Kaisel
I keep acting tough but maybe I'm not good enough
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
