My heart's a stereo, it beats for you so listen close
The sharp exchange of his fake title makes him stiffen at first, as if he has, in fact, been caught completely red-handed doing something obscene. Efforts at maintaining the ruse and rank had wholly been defeated by the sound of her laughter and the trek through old memories washing over into new. Proof not of his inability to maintain something, but rather of his weakness to all her guile and charm.
Clearing his throat loudly to excuse himself, he begins to lean away from her with exaggeration, deciding that if she wants to punish herself and rebuild the barrier of station between them, then he’ll gladly hand over distance once more. He doesn’t want to, but the petty demands it. At least, until he catches the betrayal of her lips, an immediate scoff cleaving his as he then rapidly swings back into her, the momentum of his distance jostling their shoulders with enough force to put the pictures at risk of scattering.
”I can’t STAND hiding it from you or the world any longer!” He feigns as if to sit before popping back up, continuing. ”I’d take a court marshall for your love any day, Lieutenant Doubletake.” He leans into the drama as surely as he does her side, throwing up a dramatic palm to his forehead as he delivers a daytime soap display. That hand swiftly sweeps over to her chin, tugging her in for a kiss against his smile.
Leaving behind the game as the memories instead absorb him, he laughs at her other selection. ”Oh, in that case, we also need to keep this one.” He flicks the corner of one where she has gone cross-eyed, tongue out, fed up with waiting for him to find the perfect lighting (which, he did not, if the harsh shadow over half of her is anything to go by). It is not the epitome of beauty that she normally is, but it warms him immediately, because absurd face or not, she is always devastating for him to look upon, perhaps even more in the candid moment of their silliness.
Stepping over to reclaim the camera in preparation of Safrin, Kaisel grins down at Spice. ”That is mission critical, good eye Weather,” he praises. While Flora fusses with the arrangement, he cleans off the lenses with a huff of breath and a careful rub of his shirt, not wanting the photo of the goddess to be marred by the dust and debris of their travels. Lifting it up to his face, he squints into the little window, aiming it around in readiness as Flora summons.
The arrival of a deity is not dampened by a few inches of metal and glass. The bright shine of her manifestation before them collects in the edges of his screen, and he swings the camera towards her brilliance, snapping one shot after the other as she emerges. The composition proves stellar, a rich depth of darkness seeming to pulse behind her, framing her as the only object worthy of light and attention within the printed squares.
As she begins to pour her focus over their display, Kaisel peering over the side of the camera, slowly lowering the device. The fresh photos of the goddess fan out between his fingers, his smile stretching out as he watches shimmers form in her wake. ”Thank you, Safrin,” he breathes, the sudden catch of uncertainty in his chest smoothed away easily by the lilt of her voice. He feared she might deny the request, not because of it being them as much as it being her stars, but he should have expected that she’d recognize the vision and find her twilight text far better suited than half-trained birds.
The relief and the excitement gushes out, and he’s nearly moved to step forward and hug her, but that surely would be crossing a boundary of rank that would result in more than a paper dismissal. He settles on extending the gift of her image to her, should she be inclined to take any of them with her. ”We’ll make it a message worthy of your letterhead,” he confirms, and there’s far more meaning there than just the words that’ll be written in starlight. The love itself that she’s backing, it is cosmic in its own right.
Now, to get started, because he can't wait any longer.
[FIN]
Clearing his throat loudly to excuse himself, he begins to lean away from her with exaggeration, deciding that if she wants to punish herself and rebuild the barrier of station between them, then he’ll gladly hand over distance once more. He doesn’t want to, but the petty demands it. At least, until he catches the betrayal of her lips, an immediate scoff cleaving his as he then rapidly swings back into her, the momentum of his distance jostling their shoulders with enough force to put the pictures at risk of scattering.
”I can’t STAND hiding it from you or the world any longer!” He feigns as if to sit before popping back up, continuing. ”I’d take a court marshall for your love any day, Lieutenant Doubletake.” He leans into the drama as surely as he does her side, throwing up a dramatic palm to his forehead as he delivers a daytime soap display. That hand swiftly sweeps over to her chin, tugging her in for a kiss against his smile.
Leaving behind the game as the memories instead absorb him, he laughs at her other selection. ”Oh, in that case, we also need to keep this one.” He flicks the corner of one where she has gone cross-eyed, tongue out, fed up with waiting for him to find the perfect lighting (which, he did not, if the harsh shadow over half of her is anything to go by). It is not the epitome of beauty that she normally is, but it warms him immediately, because absurd face or not, she is always devastating for him to look upon, perhaps even more in the candid moment of their silliness.
Stepping over to reclaim the camera in preparation of Safrin, Kaisel grins down at Spice. ”That is mission critical, good eye Weather,” he praises. While Flora fusses with the arrangement, he cleans off the lenses with a huff of breath and a careful rub of his shirt, not wanting the photo of the goddess to be marred by the dust and debris of their travels. Lifting it up to his face, he squints into the little window, aiming it around in readiness as Flora summons.
The arrival of a deity is not dampened by a few inches of metal and glass. The bright shine of her manifestation before them collects in the edges of his screen, and he swings the camera towards her brilliance, snapping one shot after the other as she emerges. The composition proves stellar, a rich depth of darkness seeming to pulse behind her, framing her as the only object worthy of light and attention within the printed squares.
As she begins to pour her focus over their display, Kaisel peering over the side of the camera, slowly lowering the device. The fresh photos of the goddess fan out between his fingers, his smile stretching out as he watches shimmers form in her wake. ”Thank you, Safrin,” he breathes, the sudden catch of uncertainty in his chest smoothed away easily by the lilt of her voice. He feared she might deny the request, not because of it being them as much as it being her stars, but he should have expected that she’d recognize the vision and find her twilight text far better suited than half-trained birds.
The relief and the excitement gushes out, and he’s nearly moved to step forward and hug her, but that surely would be crossing a boundary of rank that would result in more than a paper dismissal. He settles on extending the gift of her image to her, should she be inclined to take any of them with her. ”We’ll make it a message worthy of your letterhead,” he confirms, and there’s far more meaning there than just the words that’ll be written in starlight. The love itself that she’s backing, it is cosmic in its own right.
Now, to get started, because he can't wait any longer.
[FIN]
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
