My heart's a stereo, it beats for you so listen close
From the heart of flavor to the soul of the sky, the pale dragon shifts her identity with a seamless expertise that is noteworthy, and yet completely expected among Team Alpha Ultra, which is comprised of only the best of the best. They perform extraordinary feats with all the same ease as calling cereal breakfast.
Kaisel’s gaze tracks the rising Weather, the brim of his hat shielding the glare of the sun, a smile helplessly threading itself on his expression in response to her eager calls. She’s effortless as she climbs up the sky, her grace as unmistakable as her ferocity, and he marvels after her for a moment before returning his full attention to Lt. Doubletake. His attempt at retaining solemn authority is a hopeless battle as the memory of her code name warms him completely, as she herself has done practically every day since. She accepts it as if he’s bestowed her with a grand medal, and this threatens to break him completely.
Tilting his chin up as if by mere physical height he could rise above the risk of a laugh, he discovers he can’t. The moment she lays out his options, a small, breathy sound escapes him. His eyes flare briefly with shame as he tries and fails to suck the crack of composure back in, teeth pressing together with enough force to straighten his spine. With a put on sternness, he tells her quickly, ”Colonial Ketchup will do just fine.” Although dipping his gaze over the length of her is inherently risky, looking her in the eye now would surely undo him entirely, attraction having less strength in this moment than the shared mischief he’d find in the gaze of his best friend.
Replacing humor with heat does enough to seal the seams again, so that when his look rises back to the serious set of her face, he can continue to treat this operation with the full effect of command it deserves. Like any crack being held together, it seems to fight to return despite any attempts at repair, or so it feels when his lips twitch in answer to the way she spins her directive around her tongue. Or maybe that’s the inevitability of too much heat, proving to him he never should have leaned into it for rescue, not when it threatens to melt it all down in its entirety. There’s more than one way to lose composure after all, and she’s certainly peeling away this other layer, her approach alone enough to cause his fingers to flex as he resists the urge to reach out and drag her across the rest of the distance. He’d be stripped of all his rank, surely, if he indulged. It’d be an abuse of power and a mismanagement of their elite resources.
He wisely steps back. He allows a glimpse of her new shape of curvature though as she crouches over the map, and he wonders now if he shouldn’t have named her Captain Cleavage. She catches him looking, because of course she does, he gaze lifting through her lashes to pin him in place. ”GREAT!” he calls out far too loudly as he breaks from her Medusa-style effect and spins around to grab up a smaller, rolled map, since he’ll then be the navigator. He picks up the camera too, and by the time he pivots back towards her, he’s buttoned up enough to afford to sternly pass it over to her. ”You’re bound to break the camera if you do that,” he warns, using humor like a shield now instead of just a blade to fall on. ”It’ll be working nonstop.” A tilt captures part of his mouth before he retreats from being close to her, certain he’ll begin to turn liquid again sooner than he’d like.
Adjusting his backpack so that it’s high and tight, he marches with purpose to disembark. ”Let’s go soldier!” he calls back to her, glancing over his shoulder with a wild and boyish look as the game promises to unfold further en route on this adventure. Overhead, he spies movement, and mistaking it briefly for their eye in the sky he glances up expectantly. It’s no Weather though, just a cloud, but he’s no less pleased to see the wyrms are still at home here. ”Quick!” he says with a point towards the lazy cloud wyrm. ”Document the local fauna Hot Honey!”
Kaisel’s gaze tracks the rising Weather, the brim of his hat shielding the glare of the sun, a smile helplessly threading itself on his expression in response to her eager calls. She’s effortless as she climbs up the sky, her grace as unmistakable as her ferocity, and he marvels after her for a moment before returning his full attention to Lt. Doubletake. His attempt at retaining solemn authority is a hopeless battle as the memory of her code name warms him completely, as she herself has done practically every day since. She accepts it as if he’s bestowed her with a grand medal, and this threatens to break him completely.
Tilting his chin up as if by mere physical height he could rise above the risk of a laugh, he discovers he can’t. The moment she lays out his options, a small, breathy sound escapes him. His eyes flare briefly with shame as he tries and fails to suck the crack of composure back in, teeth pressing together with enough force to straighten his spine. With a put on sternness, he tells her quickly, ”Colonial Ketchup will do just fine.” Although dipping his gaze over the length of her is inherently risky, looking her in the eye now would surely undo him entirely, attraction having less strength in this moment than the shared mischief he’d find in the gaze of his best friend.
Replacing humor with heat does enough to seal the seams again, so that when his look rises back to the serious set of her face, he can continue to treat this operation with the full effect of command it deserves. Like any crack being held together, it seems to fight to return despite any attempts at repair, or so it feels when his lips twitch in answer to the way she spins her directive around her tongue. Or maybe that’s the inevitability of too much heat, proving to him he never should have leaned into it for rescue, not when it threatens to melt it all down in its entirety. There’s more than one way to lose composure after all, and she’s certainly peeling away this other layer, her approach alone enough to cause his fingers to flex as he resists the urge to reach out and drag her across the rest of the distance. He’d be stripped of all his rank, surely, if he indulged. It’d be an abuse of power and a mismanagement of their elite resources.
He wisely steps back. He allows a glimpse of her new shape of curvature though as she crouches over the map, and he wonders now if he shouldn’t have named her Captain Cleavage. She catches him looking, because of course she does, he gaze lifting through her lashes to pin him in place. ”GREAT!” he calls out far too loudly as he breaks from her Medusa-style effect and spins around to grab up a smaller, rolled map, since he’ll then be the navigator. He picks up the camera too, and by the time he pivots back towards her, he’s buttoned up enough to afford to sternly pass it over to her. ”You’re bound to break the camera if you do that,” he warns, using humor like a shield now instead of just a blade to fall on. ”It’ll be working nonstop.” A tilt captures part of his mouth before he retreats from being close to her, certain he’ll begin to turn liquid again sooner than he’d like.
Adjusting his backpack so that it’s high and tight, he marches with purpose to disembark. ”Let’s go soldier!” he calls back to her, glancing over his shoulder with a wild and boyish look as the game promises to unfold further en route on this adventure. Overhead, he spies movement, and mistaking it briefly for their eye in the sky he glances up expectantly. It’s no Weather though, just a cloud, but he’s no less pleased to see the wyrms are still at home here. ”Quick!” he says with a point towards the lazy cloud wyrm. ”Document the local fauna Hot Honey!”
Kaisel
Make me your radio and turn me up when you feel low
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
