See I'm never gonna quit, got my legacy set in motion
He hadn't realized he'd been inviting himself into a trap, but the tilting shape of her mouth and the cut of her eyes amounts to the same warning as an unexpected feast laid out in an abandoned house. Tempting still, even with a stark awareness of don't. Although that's never really stopped him before, least of all when she's involved. "Yeeeah?" he returns, fingers extending towards the buffet instead of withdrawing. All the better for it too, because sometimes a spooky spread is just a potential to sit by the water with your girl. "If that's what you wanna do, then yeah," he grins, thumbs brushing against her side.
"I'd been thinking one of those over the top places where you have to go get burgers afterwards because the dinner was actually more about experience than eating, buuuuut your vision sounds way better." Sometimes things did not need a show to be celebrated, just the time carved out to actually celebrate them. Maybe better to keep her all to himself while he still could, cherishing these last moments where the secret only belongs to them and she isn't at risk of being turned into string again any time soon.
One eye squints shut partway as the gentle comb of her fingers against the clump of paint tugs at his scalp. It pulls at just one hair in particular, the rest shuffling beneath the work of her fingers into something more separated. "Bold of you to assume I remember them all. We'll both be finding them for some time." Easter eggs of love and impulsivity His attempts mostly consisted of walking into a room with an armful of tools and a heap of possibility. He'd scan the walls with his hands on his hips, and without much vision, execute something. One of the first ones he'd been ambitious and considered adding a whole new window, but quickly he left it as just a hole, covered by one of his new paintings. Art is basically a window.
The original explosion of her champagne feelings has subsided from the cork pop and the overflowing foam of excitement to the much steadier, but no less sparkling, hum of bubble-bright happiness. It buzzes between them still, the effervescence rolling off every word and uplifting every movement, even when she's pulling him down alongside her. The attention to his shirt catches him too, and seeming to notice it's skewed set for the first time when she tries to set it back neat, he works the buttons back into proper order as they take a seat. Maybe they'd not be going to Docks & Decadence anymore, but he'd still be wearing the shirt appointed to him by demigod Flora. If anything, pairing it with sweats would give just the right amount of lazy opulence this day deserved.
"Okay, watching," he says with a soldier's focus. His tone is brought lower, because witnessing this for the first time deserves the reverence that only whispers can deliver. Admittedly, he doesn't know where to watch, or what for, and his copper gaze stays on her with an expectant force. This is quickly impossible to maintain when the room around them transforms.
It flickers in bit by bit, at first, transitioning like someone's first PowerPoint. Stairs melt out to a familiar, but different floor. A bed slides forward, thrust in like a stage prop. Gradually, he's back in the Sugar Tide, enough so that he reaches out a hand to her thigh as if expecting the lurch of water beneath them at any moment and he's seeking the anchor of her as always. It's reminiscent of their storytelling in the House of Midnight, but this feels more immersive than that. His other hand reaches out, trying to brush over the new surface surrounding them, attempting to discern if she's transported them in some new fashion.
His marvel dawns into recognition rapidly as the stars completely set the scene. Not teleported then, at least not like her compass or the yarn-yank of channeling. Certainly this is still some semblance of motion, brought back in time more fully than his own mind can manage, to a moment he knows well enough the edges have begun to blur like a photo fading at the edges from too much handling. Is this—? He doesn't dare speak. Barely tries not to exhale if he can help it. His thought doesn't finish though, the strand dropped when the full weight of his attention shifts along with the Flora echo.
As it did then, his entire body freezes as the kiss lands. That moment rushes back with such a staggering clarity it's as if he's reliving it. The fear grips him firmly again, the chill of it brushing up against the bond. It doesn't last, thawing a second later beneath the heat of her lips, adjusting to the sudden shock of having everything he'd so carefully arranged around her yanked away like covers in the night. The sensation flips into urgent desire, keeping in tempo with the subtle shift of the Kaisel remnant kissing her back. Now, as then, his hand curls tighter against her, repeating the attempt to hold her with him for more than a mere moment.
When he breathes in again it's loud, roughened with the delay and the sudden, freeing effect of certainty filling all the old holes made by worry. If he'd only known how she'd looked at him then... "To think, I nearly ruined everything the next day." Barely able to rouse his voice in response to her, the hushed sound falls away easily, attention still snared by the repeating image of her tangled with him that evening. He shakes his head, a faint chuckle slipping free and dwindling into a groan that he buries into the palm of his other hand. The sound muffles and quiets behind the muzzle of fingers, lips smearing as he pulls it away and into his hair as if to straighten himself out. "I was so sure we would only have that one night that belonged to us." He glances from past her to present her, scooching closer to her on the stair-seat at once, both arms winding around her now in a sideways hug as he squishes into her side. "Do you know the first thought I had, when you kissed me?"
"I'd been thinking one of those over the top places where you have to go get burgers afterwards because the dinner was actually more about experience than eating, buuuuut your vision sounds way better." Sometimes things did not need a show to be celebrated, just the time carved out to actually celebrate them. Maybe better to keep her all to himself while he still could, cherishing these last moments where the secret only belongs to them and she isn't at risk of being turned into string again any time soon.
One eye squints shut partway as the gentle comb of her fingers against the clump of paint tugs at his scalp. It pulls at just one hair in particular, the rest shuffling beneath the work of her fingers into something more separated. "Bold of you to assume I remember them all. We'll both be finding them for some time." Easter eggs of love and impulsivity His attempts mostly consisted of walking into a room with an armful of tools and a heap of possibility. He'd scan the walls with his hands on his hips, and without much vision, execute something. One of the first ones he'd been ambitious and considered adding a whole new window, but quickly he left it as just a hole, covered by one of his new paintings. Art is basically a window.
The original explosion of her champagne feelings has subsided from the cork pop and the overflowing foam of excitement to the much steadier, but no less sparkling, hum of bubble-bright happiness. It buzzes between them still, the effervescence rolling off every word and uplifting every movement, even when she's pulling him down alongside her. The attention to his shirt catches him too, and seeming to notice it's skewed set for the first time when she tries to set it back neat, he works the buttons back into proper order as they take a seat. Maybe they'd not be going to Docks & Decadence anymore, but he'd still be wearing the shirt appointed to him by demigod Flora. If anything, pairing it with sweats would give just the right amount of lazy opulence this day deserved.
"Okay, watching," he says with a soldier's focus. His tone is brought lower, because witnessing this for the first time deserves the reverence that only whispers can deliver. Admittedly, he doesn't know where to watch, or what for, and his copper gaze stays on her with an expectant force. This is quickly impossible to maintain when the room around them transforms.
It flickers in bit by bit, at first, transitioning like someone's first PowerPoint. Stairs melt out to a familiar, but different floor. A bed slides forward, thrust in like a stage prop. Gradually, he's back in the Sugar Tide, enough so that he reaches out a hand to her thigh as if expecting the lurch of water beneath them at any moment and he's seeking the anchor of her as always. It's reminiscent of their storytelling in the House of Midnight, but this feels more immersive than that. His other hand reaches out, trying to brush over the new surface surrounding them, attempting to discern if she's transported them in some new fashion.
His marvel dawns into recognition rapidly as the stars completely set the scene. Not teleported then, at least not like her compass or the yarn-yank of channeling. Certainly this is still some semblance of motion, brought back in time more fully than his own mind can manage, to a moment he knows well enough the edges have begun to blur like a photo fading at the edges from too much handling. Is this—? He doesn't dare speak. Barely tries not to exhale if he can help it. His thought doesn't finish though, the strand dropped when the full weight of his attention shifts along with the Flora echo.
As it did then, his entire body freezes as the kiss lands. That moment rushes back with such a staggering clarity it's as if he's reliving it. The fear grips him firmly again, the chill of it brushing up against the bond. It doesn't last, thawing a second later beneath the heat of her lips, adjusting to the sudden shock of having everything he'd so carefully arranged around her yanked away like covers in the night. The sensation flips into urgent desire, keeping in tempo with the subtle shift of the Kaisel remnant kissing her back. Now, as then, his hand curls tighter against her, repeating the attempt to hold her with him for more than a mere moment.
When he breathes in again it's loud, roughened with the delay and the sudden, freeing effect of certainty filling all the old holes made by worry. If he'd only known how she'd looked at him then... "To think, I nearly ruined everything the next day." Barely able to rouse his voice in response to her, the hushed sound falls away easily, attention still snared by the repeating image of her tangled with him that evening. He shakes his head, a faint chuckle slipping free and dwindling into a groan that he buries into the palm of his other hand. The sound muffles and quiets behind the muzzle of fingers, lips smearing as he pulls it away and into his hair as if to straighten himself out. "I was so sure we would only have that one night that belonged to us." He glances from past her to present her, scooching closer to her on the stair-seat at once, both arms winding around her now in a sideways hug as he squishes into her side. "Do you know the first thought I had, when you kissed me?"
Kaisel
I've only just begun, I won't stop until it's done
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
