See I'm never gonna quit, got my legacy set in motion
Although he has no ounce of design skill in his hands, just the ability to swiftly criticize it, Kaisel pulls an immediate slant to his face. "Heat lines? You might look like the steaming take then." Which, he's positive no one wants. "I'm sure the artists will come up with something perfectly fitting, and I plan to be the first in line when they do." In case that wasn't obvious. He's also already plotting how he might afford buying up the last of the Doubletake options still on the market before the news fully breaks to everyone. Then he could resell it and maybe turn enough profit for their rings.
The contract she demands revisions of is granted more attention than any other binding thing they've done thus far, at least with just the two of them, and it swiftly draws something sly to his expression. "I'm sorry," he starts, trying to push back the laugh that tries to creep in. "Are you that anti pinching?" The urge to test it out then and there flares strong enough that his hand twitches. The lobster within begging to be set free. "Is this a weakness of the Flora Grace Háksop the Hot Take, that I've finally unearthed?" One he can guilt-free exploit that is, most of her other weaknesses not the sort he likes to drag into the light. "That, or you've deeply underestimated the torture of tickling, which might explain some of your more wicked moments. Absolute finger tyrant."
He's carrying on and on as he takes her to their room, only dissuaded from the impromptu filibuster by the idea of capturing this moment. It's not every day your queen and wife becomes a newly appointed demigod after all. "Deal," he agrees, leaning her back down onto her toes. The motion is slow, unspoken reluctance whenever parting from her, no matter the cause or what might be waiting on the other end. That he can feel the way she lingers too is the only thing that makes the inevitable slide of distance bearable. A certainty that they'd reach back for one another, that they always had been, even when they didn't realize it, as she's already demonstrated.
Almost shy with his departure and the unintended way his gaze follows her across the room, like it's part of her shadow too, he finally inhales and turns to his task. "Warm enough for slides, d'you think?" he calls out as he pulls open and then shuts his sock drawer. Pulling a pair or two out of the pants drawer, one sniffed and then tossed aside with a face, he settles on the thin, light gray set he had in mind from the start. He yanks them on with a finishing jump, elastic waist snapping in a final seal as he finishes tucking the boys into exact place beneath. "Ready!" he declares, spinning around with his hands in his pockets, hair still tangled in paint, but at least most of the other debris has been discarded on his old clothes.
The contract she demands revisions of is granted more attention than any other binding thing they've done thus far, at least with just the two of them, and it swiftly draws something sly to his expression. "I'm sorry," he starts, trying to push back the laugh that tries to creep in. "Are you that anti pinching?" The urge to test it out then and there flares strong enough that his hand twitches. The lobster within begging to be set free. "Is this a weakness of the Flora Grace Háksop the Hot Take, that I've finally unearthed?" One he can guilt-free exploit that is, most of her other weaknesses not the sort he likes to drag into the light. "That, or you've deeply underestimated the torture of tickling, which might explain some of your more wicked moments. Absolute finger tyrant."
He's carrying on and on as he takes her to their room, only dissuaded from the impromptu filibuster by the idea of capturing this moment. It's not every day your queen and wife becomes a newly appointed demigod after all. "Deal," he agrees, leaning her back down onto her toes. The motion is slow, unspoken reluctance whenever parting from her, no matter the cause or what might be waiting on the other end. That he can feel the way she lingers too is the only thing that makes the inevitable slide of distance bearable. A certainty that they'd reach back for one another, that they always had been, even when they didn't realize it, as she's already demonstrated.
Almost shy with his departure and the unintended way his gaze follows her across the room, like it's part of her shadow too, he finally inhales and turns to his task. "Warm enough for slides, d'you think?" he calls out as he pulls open and then shuts his sock drawer. Pulling a pair or two out of the pants drawer, one sniffed and then tossed aside with a face, he settles on the thin, light gray set he had in mind from the start. He yanks them on with a finishing jump, elastic waist snapping in a final seal as he finishes tucking the boys into exact place beneath. "Ready!" he declares, spinning around with his hands in his pockets, hair still tangled in paint, but at least most of the other debris has been discarded on his old clothes.
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
