charlie
Charlie doesn’t interrupt the work while things are still being fastened and moulded in place. For once, she lets the chaos build before she adds to it, watching from beneath the archway with a slow, satisfied smile as stone becomes something sharper, stranger, more alive under their hands. Her fingers rest lightly over the curve of her belly, thumb tracing idle patterns as her gaze follows each warped edge, each jagged jut of obsidian, each place where the structure looks less like something made and more like something grown wrong on purpose. By the time Fox straightens and the masons ease back, she’s already decided it’s perfect in all the ways that matter.
When it's her turn, Charlie vanishes from the ground and reappears mid-air beside the towering structure in a flicker of motion that feels more like a spark catching than a step taken. Heat blooms faintly around her as she considers, her tail curling in a slow, delighted loop behind her while a wreath of soft, flickering flame gathers at her shoulders like a halo that’s decided to misbehave.
She works like she was born to this; darting from one impossible angle to another, appearing and reappearing along the structure in quick, precise bursts of movement, each reposition accompanied by a flicker of heat and light that lingers just long enough to leave the impression of something alive dancing around the stone. Chains drape and twist where she wants them, not neatly but intentionally wrong, pulled taut in places and left slack in others as though they’ve slipped their purpose and decided to cling out of spite.
The oddities follow with each piece chosen not for symmetry but for sensation. Something that catches, something that glints, something that suggests movement even when still. She places them with a careful kind of indulgence, stepping back mid-air to admire before darting in again to adjust, refine, exaggerate. Rain hisses faintly where it meets the warmth gathered around her, but she doesn’t seem to notice, too absorbed in the act of turning the fountain into something that feels less like an object and more like an offering.
"Tell me if it looks too restrained," Charlie calls down brightly, grin audible in every word as she flickers into place along the upper curve, one hand braced against the stone while the other secures another length of chain with a decisive, satisfied tug. "I’d hate for it to come across as subtle."
When it's her turn, Charlie vanishes from the ground and reappears mid-air beside the towering structure in a flicker of motion that feels more like a spark catching than a step taken. Heat blooms faintly around her as she considers, her tail curling in a slow, delighted loop behind her while a wreath of soft, flickering flame gathers at her shoulders like a halo that’s decided to misbehave.
She works like she was born to this; darting from one impossible angle to another, appearing and reappearing along the structure in quick, precise bursts of movement, each reposition accompanied by a flicker of heat and light that lingers just long enough to leave the impression of something alive dancing around the stone. Chains drape and twist where she wants them, not neatly but intentionally wrong, pulled taut in places and left slack in others as though they’ve slipped their purpose and decided to cling out of spite.
The oddities follow with each piece chosen not for symmetry but for sensation. Something that catches, something that glints, something that suggests movement even when still. She places them with a careful kind of indulgence, stepping back mid-air to admire before darting in again to adjust, refine, exaggerate. Rain hisses faintly where it meets the warmth gathered around her, but she doesn’t seem to notice, too absorbed in the act of turning the fountain into something that feels less like an object and more like an offering.
"Tell me if it looks too restrained," Charlie calls down brightly, grin audible in every word as she flickers into place along the upper curve, one hand braced against the stone while the other secures another length of chain with a decisive, satisfied tug. "I’d hate for it to come across as subtle."
I did a double take, triple take
Take me to naked Twister back at your place
Take me to naked Twister back at your place
Hella golden retriever energy. Small unrefined horns made of ruby. Regular spade-shaped tail.
