Kaisel
Heaven help me, the devil wears lace and she can't be tamed
Her laughter is contagious, or maybe it’s the delight woven into it that is, both of which are too wild and large to keep to herself. It soaks into him with his own grin leaking out the sound, ribs shaking with the effort to grasp breath in between. They build off one another like this is how all stairs are made, one idea stacking on the other until they’ve each snuck in an assortment of steps that lets the both of them climb easier.From Hawt Catsuop to Há kessup, they ascend steadily.
”That sounds so good!” he exclaims, glee still trying to shake free and settling to hum through him as he tries to wrestle it back to properly hear her and speak. This latest outcry doesn’t help, and he dissolves again into a series of laughs and content sighs. ”Does it sound like a name enough, though?” he says with a tilt of his head towards her, cheeks puffing up with a smile as he fans out ”Flora Há kessup. Kaisel Há kessup.” It’s perhaps a silly question, given the wide variety of names, but after saying it aloud in full, he can pinpoint the remaining struggle.
”Close, but I bet we could hide even more of it. The Há is perfect.” The rest, he tries to quickly run over, testing what needs to stay and what needs to drop to sound right, not wanting it to drift so far they themselves forget what it all stands for. ”Háktsòp. Hácesp. Hákzp.” Letters start to lose meaning the more he tries, and his tongue fights with his volume, as if some could only work if shouted breathlessly. ”Maybe?” he huffs.
It’s certainly true that Flora’s perfected feigning innocence enough that he still has a hard time catching her when she’s clearly gaslighting him. It’s why it’s so easy for him to believe her when she says utter nonsense like don’t you wish you were athletic? That, and his TRUST in her, which is clearly misplaced at times, although admittedly only the times that don’t really count (they all count in the moment). Even now, he is fully sus of that lash play. ”That sounds exactly like a threat, but with more letters,” he scoffs, the sound drawing short as the drift of her hands takes the rest of his breath. Nothing but a tease, but a line he’d gladly have her walk across in case she tips over it. In fact, his hips lift up, offering even less distance. ”I’m sure I could do something to make it up to you now.” The offer buried there is sly and wanting, as evidenced by the trail of his eyes as they dip from her face to the remaining fabric clutching her chest. One of his hands skims up her arm, tugging at a strap in test.
”That sounds so good!” he exclaims, glee still trying to shake free and settling to hum through him as he tries to wrestle it back to properly hear her and speak. This latest outcry doesn’t help, and he dissolves again into a series of laughs and content sighs. ”Does it sound like a name enough, though?” he says with a tilt of his head towards her, cheeks puffing up with a smile as he fans out ”Flora Há kessup. Kaisel Há kessup.” It’s perhaps a silly question, given the wide variety of names, but after saying it aloud in full, he can pinpoint the remaining struggle.
”Close, but I bet we could hide even more of it. The Há is perfect.” The rest, he tries to quickly run over, testing what needs to stay and what needs to drop to sound right, not wanting it to drift so far they themselves forget what it all stands for. ”Háktsòp. Hácesp. Hákzp.” Letters start to lose meaning the more he tries, and his tongue fights with his volume, as if some could only work if shouted breathlessly. ”Maybe?” he huffs.
It’s certainly true that Flora’s perfected feigning innocence enough that he still has a hard time catching her when she’s clearly gaslighting him. It’s why it’s so easy for him to believe her when she says utter nonsense like don’t you wish you were athletic? That, and his TRUST in her, which is clearly misplaced at times, although admittedly only the times that don’t really count (they all count in the moment). Even now, he is fully sus of that lash play. ”That sounds exactly like a threat, but with more letters,” he scoffs, the sound drawing short as the drift of her hands takes the rest of his breath. Nothing but a tease, but a line he’d gladly have her walk across in case she tips over it. In fact, his hips lift up, offering even less distance. ”I’m sure I could do something to make it up to you now.” The offer buried there is sly and wanting, as evidenced by the trail of his eyes as they dip from her face to the remaining fabric clutching her chest. One of his hands skims up her arm, tugging at a strap in test.
Let me see the good girl you wanted to be. All of my praise, only from me.
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
