Kaisel
Heaven help me, the devil wears lace and she can't be tamed
He’s half forgotten about the need to spell all the mash ups he’d just thrown out. The reality of that hits him square with a burst of a laugh and a helpless wag of his head back and forth. ”Ok, true, buuuut imagine—we devise this name that’s not spelled how it sounds and get so upset any time someone misspells it.” She could throw some royal weight around with that, make everyone terrified of slighting the queen and proving their poor attention to detail.
His chin tips up to watch her as thoughts brew across her features. It starts with the drifting focus of her eyes, still here, but he can tell she slips into the folds of her mind, no doubt letters marching out and rearranging. Her eyes darken when it happens, like she’s gone deeper, and instead of the sunlit surface of the sea glinting off like glass on a calm day, she takes on the look of grabbing a great breath and diving down as far as you can, kicking and reaching for shadows that continue to stay out of reach in the fathomless depths of the sea. Next her brow pinches in. It’s subtle, one of the few things about her that is, and there are plenty of times when it shows up stronger, when she bends it on purpose to accentuate a performance. This one is honest though, lost to truth instead of stage, and for that she seems of the mind to dodge wrinkle lines by only creasing minorly. His favorite though is the way her upper lip stiffens, causing her nose to crinkle up just so. He reaches up to deliver a faint boop to the tip of it now.
All her efforts prove worthwhile though, because what she lays out for them is an immediate improvement, another step taken up. ”Hmm, I like Hacésop,” he admits, settling into the lean of his shoulders on the ground. ”Feels like that’s the wrong point to stress the sound though,” he admits, saying it under his breath a few times. When she says Háksop though, he stiffens, eyes flaring wider as he captures her with them. ”Say that one again!?” Excitement rises, and as it always would, he knew the moment they finally stumbled over it and said it aloud, the name would be known, like something glimmering just waiting to be plucked and placed. ”Háksop,” he repeats over and over aloud, rolling it out slow, fast, long, harsh. ”I think,” he starts with a slow spread of hope. ”Flo-ro, I think, I think that’s our name!”
The celebration twists into a smirk at her continued attempts at shrugging off any nefarious responsibility about the club security. ”You aren’t wrong,” he offers with a subtle hum of yielding to the logic that he could have better played a hand in their arrangement here. ”Although, one could argue, you’re just so capable and successful at setting this place up I had no time to offer help,” he tries to twist, albeit with less mastery than her.
A chuckle, low and knowing, escapes with a drawn out effect, lingering long in his lungs and off his lips as she looks him over. ”Oh no,” he amends, reaching out with his other hand for her, drawing himself closer into the fold of her, bringing her hand deeper into his pants unless she moves it. ”Not to negotiate,” he croons with something half-smug rapidly melting into a beg. ”To serve. He’s grabbing for her hand while his fingers tug down her bra strap, coiling the excess around his fingers. ”All of me, to serve you.”[/i]
His chin tips up to watch her as thoughts brew across her features. It starts with the drifting focus of her eyes, still here, but he can tell she slips into the folds of her mind, no doubt letters marching out and rearranging. Her eyes darken when it happens, like she’s gone deeper, and instead of the sunlit surface of the sea glinting off like glass on a calm day, she takes on the look of grabbing a great breath and diving down as far as you can, kicking and reaching for shadows that continue to stay out of reach in the fathomless depths of the sea. Next her brow pinches in. It’s subtle, one of the few things about her that is, and there are plenty of times when it shows up stronger, when she bends it on purpose to accentuate a performance. This one is honest though, lost to truth instead of stage, and for that she seems of the mind to dodge wrinkle lines by only creasing minorly. His favorite though is the way her upper lip stiffens, causing her nose to crinkle up just so. He reaches up to deliver a faint boop to the tip of it now.
All her efforts prove worthwhile though, because what she lays out for them is an immediate improvement, another step taken up. ”Hmm, I like Hacésop,” he admits, settling into the lean of his shoulders on the ground. ”Feels like that’s the wrong point to stress the sound though,” he admits, saying it under his breath a few times. When she says Háksop though, he stiffens, eyes flaring wider as he captures her with them. ”Say that one again!?” Excitement rises, and as it always would, he knew the moment they finally stumbled over it and said it aloud, the name would be known, like something glimmering just waiting to be plucked and placed. ”Háksop,” he repeats over and over aloud, rolling it out slow, fast, long, harsh. ”I think,” he starts with a slow spread of hope. ”Flo-ro, I think, I think that’s our name!”
The celebration twists into a smirk at her continued attempts at shrugging off any nefarious responsibility about the club security. ”You aren’t wrong,” he offers with a subtle hum of yielding to the logic that he could have better played a hand in their arrangement here. ”Although, one could argue, you’re just so capable and successful at setting this place up I had no time to offer help,” he tries to twist, albeit with less mastery than her.
A chuckle, low and knowing, escapes with a drawn out effect, lingering long in his lungs and off his lips as she looks him over. ”Oh no,” he amends, reaching out with his other hand for her, drawing himself closer into the fold of her, bringing her hand deeper into his pants unless she moves it. ”Not to negotiate,” he croons with something half-smug rapidly melting into a beg. ”To serve. He’s grabbing for her hand while his fingers tug down her bra strap, coiling the excess around his fingers. ”All of me, to serve you.”[/i]
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
