Let me paint a picture for you, I'm feeling like Bob Ross
There is a high that runners get when they've pushed past a certain limit and found they can keep going. The point where muscles burn until they turn numb and light, where gravity drags at every step before it suddenly seems to loosen its hold and ground is traded for clouds. It's where breath hurts, sharp as any blade, and every heartbeat thunders like it's too much until suddenly—it isn't. Everything clicks at once. The body no longer feels confined to itself, and everything possible lies open before you. That's what [/i]this[/i] feels like—breaking through what seemed to be the end of everything only to discover it's just the start.
Kaisel has spent most of his life testing where the edges are and what it takes to make them give. He's pushed until his hands shake, until he's as bloody as what he's fighting, until instinct and stubbornness are the only things left carrying him forward. So he thought he understood what it meant to give everything to something. Thought he understood what it meant to love someone so completely it altered the shape of him from the inside out. Until now. Because this...this feels like discovering he's only ever stood ankle-deep in the ocean before and called it drowning.
His thumb drags slowly across the back of her hand where it rests over his chest, pulse and breath gradually settling back into something deeper. His gaze doesn't leave her now, even as the feeling of being remade trembles quietly between them, almost awkward with the exposure. Yet the thought of retreating from it feels far more unbearable than the vulnerability itself. He does not need her shaped or polished.
Similarly, smiles swell and retreat, moving with the same tide sweeping around them still, a current of awe and understanding that drags down their feet and rushes up over their heads with every word they trade, attempting to use something so small to contain what exists between them. "Yeah," he says softly, the agreement almost breathed instead of spoken. "That's exactly it." Whole.
Through the bond, the way the word lands heavily in him is plain. He understands it with terrifying clarity now that she's said it. Not complete, because neither of them had been lacking before this. Not halves melded together into something functional. It's something stranger than that, something fuller. It's as if every piece of themselves has suddenly been given clarity and depth after a lifetime spent seeing fuzzy and flat and believing that to be vision.
A quiet laugh escapes him then, tired and energized all at once. "You are the most incredible person." His head turns enough to nudge lightly against hers again, hair falling into his eyes with the movement. The bond between them has softened from the violent flood it had been before, but it still hums warmly beneath everything else, carrying the lingering shape of his love for her so openly that he isn't certain how he can ever contain it again to manage himself in public. The sensation feels eternal, and her side feels too right to ever part from again, which will make leaving this room, even to go to the bathroom at some point, a very difficult affair. "I don't think I can go back to not knowing what you feel like anymore." The confession slips out without embarrassment, plain and honest in the way only exhaustion and reaching out to someone's soul seems to make possible. After feeling her joy and want and love wrapped so tightly around his own, the idea of separation suddenly feels bizarre in a way he doesn't yet have language for.
Kaisel has spent most of his life testing where the edges are and what it takes to make them give. He's pushed until his hands shake, until he's as bloody as what he's fighting, until instinct and stubbornness are the only things left carrying him forward. So he thought he understood what it meant to give everything to something. Thought he understood what it meant to love someone so completely it altered the shape of him from the inside out. Until now. Because this...this feels like discovering he's only ever stood ankle-deep in the ocean before and called it drowning.
His thumb drags slowly across the back of her hand where it rests over his chest, pulse and breath gradually settling back into something deeper. His gaze doesn't leave her now, even as the feeling of being remade trembles quietly between them, almost awkward with the exposure. Yet the thought of retreating from it feels far more unbearable than the vulnerability itself. He does not need her shaped or polished.
Similarly, smiles swell and retreat, moving with the same tide sweeping around them still, a current of awe and understanding that drags down their feet and rushes up over their heads with every word they trade, attempting to use something so small to contain what exists between them. "Yeah," he says softly, the agreement almost breathed instead of spoken. "That's exactly it." Whole.
Through the bond, the way the word lands heavily in him is plain. He understands it with terrifying clarity now that she's said it. Not complete, because neither of them had been lacking before this. Not halves melded together into something functional. It's something stranger than that, something fuller. It's as if every piece of themselves has suddenly been given clarity and depth after a lifetime spent seeing fuzzy and flat and believing that to be vision.
A quiet laugh escapes him then, tired and energized all at once. "You are the most incredible person." His head turns enough to nudge lightly against hers again, hair falling into his eyes with the movement. The bond between them has softened from the violent flood it had been before, but it still hums warmly beneath everything else, carrying the lingering shape of his love for her so openly that he isn't certain how he can ever contain it again to manage himself in public. The sensation feels eternal, and her side feels too right to ever part from again, which will make leaving this room, even to go to the bathroom at some point, a very difficult affair. "I don't think I can go back to not knowing what you feel like anymore." The confession slips out without embarrassment, plain and honest in the way only exhaustion and reaching out to someone's soul seems to make possible. After feeling her joy and want and love wrapped so tightly around his own, the idea of separation suddenly feels bizarre in a way he doesn't yet have language for.
Kaisel
They don't gotta ask 'cause they know I'm him
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
