Your touch, so foreign, it's supernatural, extraterrestrial
He squints at the vague, writhing silhouette trapped beneath the body of fabric, brows knitting. “Danta?” It’s less wonder at the man who’s been devoured by a festive phantom, more, why. Another shift of colour and canvas, and then the Maverick’s head pops free, looking very much like a groundhog predicting lightning rather than spring. Ordinarily, the absurd sight would spark a laugh, or even crack a smile, but it’s all he can do right now not to double over and dry heave.
Sagging into the doorframe, Kaisel instead shakes his head and sighs with enough drama to earn an Emmy. ”No. No, not a peg lamp…” The truth now stuffs itself in his throat, the rush petering out into a prickle that crawls up the base of his neck. He offers no clarity, instead pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers as if willing the pressure to wake him from this nightmare. He has tried several times, but he’s still stuck in this reality.
Peeking around his hand at the carcass of a carnival, Kaisel is more than happy for the offer of distraction. He grabs at an edge of fabric and flaps it into something partial enough to control. ”Wh-what is all this? You running off to join the circus, or?” Kaisel might like to go with him if so. More canvas rustles as Danta vanishes again, tunneling through folds with all the alacrity of a cat helping make the bed.
Danta reemerges with an ease that Kaisel is deeply envious of in this moment. ”Not a lamp,” he huffs, staring a hole into the fabric he’s snapping in his hands like a pair of thick reins that could pull this beast of a tent in. ”Pregnant,” he mumbles, like some child being forced to apologize when they don’t mean it.
Sagging into the doorframe, Kaisel instead shakes his head and sighs with enough drama to earn an Emmy. ”No. No, not a peg lamp…” The truth now stuffs itself in his throat, the rush petering out into a prickle that crawls up the base of his neck. He offers no clarity, instead pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers as if willing the pressure to wake him from this nightmare. He has tried several times, but he’s still stuck in this reality.
Peeking around his hand at the carcass of a carnival, Kaisel is more than happy for the offer of distraction. He grabs at an edge of fabric and flaps it into something partial enough to control. ”Wh-what is all this? You running off to join the circus, or?” Kaisel might like to go with him if so. More canvas rustles as Danta vanishes again, tunneling through folds with all the alacrity of a cat helping make the bed.
Danta reemerges with an ease that Kaisel is deeply envious of in this moment. ”Not a lamp,” he huffs, staring a hole into the fabric he’s snapping in his hands like a pair of thick reins that could pull this beast of a tent in. ”Pregnant,” he mumbles, like some child being forced to apologize when they don’t mean it.
Kaisel
Your kiss is cosmic, every move is magic, you're from a whole other world
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
