When enemies are at your door, I'll carry you way from war
He's certain he can do anything in the world right about now, her love and agreement buoying him up to such heights that any obstacle feels immensely small. Gods, the way she's not just laughing, but shining, a whole sun swallowed down and surely blazing away in her chest with how dazzling she is every time her lips part. The joy is so immense that it feels too incredible to look at outright, but he keeps trying to steal glances anyway, eager to know the entirety of its design.
That she's had a similar thought, that she's already making steps to arrange a version of it in their rings, it knocks the wind from him in an awed way. He pulls back further, gaze sweeping across her with a growing crest of delight. "See!" he exclaims, a hand drawn free to rattle her shoulder briefly in emphasis. "This is why we finish each other's leftovers!" Two minds, one mouth, as it were. He sinks back down with a disbelieving huff, unwilling to stray from her touch longer than needed right now, nose dipping back to brush hers.
Swept up in the tide of the moment as he is, he's never been more sure that this is what he wants. That she is who he wants at his side until Mort finally claims them. He wants no further doubt, no more time wasted waiting for perfection. He'll have her now, messy and wild and salt-flecked, because he'll have her forever and build perfection out of every moment they spend together. "Flora, I'm serious." The hand on her cheek drops to pinch her chin, holding the sight of her steady as he leans back, wonder and adoration bowing beneath certainty.
"I want to marry you," he breathes, his lungs holding air in the back of his throat after he says them. Not out of fear, or worry, or even nerves, but the quiet, cracking disbelief that this moment is here, real and present and possible. It's so far from the first time her lips had met his, when he'd thought they'd only have a night to know this feeling. "I want to marry you, now. And tomorrow. And the next day. A hundred times, because it's always you Flora. Forever and then some." His smile flutters back to life around the admission, promise and potential replacing hope. He doesn't just want to, he means to.
His expression stretches out wider at the sound of her flushed in a rare way, bubbling with something shy. It's adorably reassuring to know she's quivering with the possibilities too, but it simply won't do. With effort to depart, he props himself back into a crouch, reaching to pull her up with him as he rises. No more wondering, no more uncertainty, it'll be now. "Oooooone...." he begins to count, grinning, this second already starting to escape as a daring laugh breaks out of his chest. His hand pulses over hers, the movement rich with meaning. It's a silent I love you, an endless I've got you, from one corner of the world to the next. "Where are the hairties? I'll get them. Call whoever you want, even Safrin, if you think she's the best suited." The mother of his ex, scored by his failure to love her properly is maybe not his first choice for their union, but he'll trust in Flora's awareness of the thing's they've dismantled to build something for themselves.
That she's had a similar thought, that she's already making steps to arrange a version of it in their rings, it knocks the wind from him in an awed way. He pulls back further, gaze sweeping across her with a growing crest of delight. "See!" he exclaims, a hand drawn free to rattle her shoulder briefly in emphasis. "This is why we finish each other's leftovers!" Two minds, one mouth, as it were. He sinks back down with a disbelieving huff, unwilling to stray from her touch longer than needed right now, nose dipping back to brush hers.
Swept up in the tide of the moment as he is, he's never been more sure that this is what he wants. That she is who he wants at his side until Mort finally claims them. He wants no further doubt, no more time wasted waiting for perfection. He'll have her now, messy and wild and salt-flecked, because he'll have her forever and build perfection out of every moment they spend together. "Flora, I'm serious." The hand on her cheek drops to pinch her chin, holding the sight of her steady as he leans back, wonder and adoration bowing beneath certainty.
"I want to marry you," he breathes, his lungs holding air in the back of his throat after he says them. Not out of fear, or worry, or even nerves, but the quiet, cracking disbelief that this moment is here, real and present and possible. It's so far from the first time her lips had met his, when he'd thought they'd only have a night to know this feeling. "I want to marry you, now. And tomorrow. And the next day. A hundred times, because it's always you Flora. Forever and then some." His smile flutters back to life around the admission, promise and potential replacing hope. He doesn't just want to, he means to.
His expression stretches out wider at the sound of her flushed in a rare way, bubbling with something shy. It's adorably reassuring to know she's quivering with the possibilities too, but it simply won't do. With effort to depart, he props himself back into a crouch, reaching to pull her up with him as he rises. No more wondering, no more uncertainty, it'll be now. "Oooooone...." he begins to count, grinning, this second already starting to escape as a daring laugh breaks out of his chest. His hand pulses over hers, the movement rich with meaning. It's a silent I love you, an endless I've got you, from one corner of the world to the next. "Where are the hairties? I'll get them. Call whoever you want, even Safrin, if you think she's the best suited." The mother of his ex, scored by his failure to love her properly is maybe not his first choice for their union, but he'll trust in Flora's awareness of the thing's they've dismantled to build something for themselves.
Kaisel
If you need help, I'll shut down the city lights
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
