No way you can deny, you feel the most alive when you are terrified
Something flickers through the bond. Not the warm bath of affection or the soft sigh of embodied peace, although rarely has it ever been that. It's something much more urgent, and before his suspicion can properly settle, he has all the answers he needs, and then some.
Snow slides down the back of his shirt with ruthless efficiency. The reaction is immediate and violent, his entire body jerking upright so quickly that he nearly drags them both off balance with the force of it. "FlorUH!" The accusation arrives somewhere between a shout and a gasp. His shoulders hitch instinctively against the cold, as though he might somehow fold himself around the problem and contain it before it continues its merciless descent.
Abandoning her entirely, he twists away, pulling his hand free of hers to yank his shirt over his head, clawing away the thing that's trapping the cold to his skin. The result leaves his hair sticking in every direction, shirt bundled in one hand while the other gracelessly swipes behind him in an awkward angle to try to free the lingering patches that are melting against his heat.
"That's it!" he hisses, gaze sharpening on her as he tosses his shirt aside, the towel gone aksew and having dropped to his feet with all of this. It's the burning look of a man with two scores to settle with his wife now, and the dedication to carrying them out without further delay.
He lunges towards her again, reaching with both hands to grab her to him and hoist her up to his shoulder, kicking and screaming if need be. While the suggestion of removing the legs from one of the chairs might have earned genuine consideration in a different setting, whatever she says rolls right off him for this moment, as though an executioner who has learned to ignore the beggars that try to worm themselves off the chopping block.
Coincidentally, his plan will coincide with an answer, but sleds are the least of his worries for the time being. Instead, he's quite focused and intent on wrestling Flora to him and together, lurching out to the pool where he means to heave her in as if she's no better than a corpse in need of disposal. "Stay out of it Spice or you're next!" he threatens the accomplice in what is probably a futile attempt at sounding in control when he's clearly outnumbered and potentially outmatched.
Snow slides down the back of his shirt with ruthless efficiency. The reaction is immediate and violent, his entire body jerking upright so quickly that he nearly drags them both off balance with the force of it. "FlorUH!" The accusation arrives somewhere between a shout and a gasp. His shoulders hitch instinctively against the cold, as though he might somehow fold himself around the problem and contain it before it continues its merciless descent.
Abandoning her entirely, he twists away, pulling his hand free of hers to yank his shirt over his head, clawing away the thing that's trapping the cold to his skin. The result leaves his hair sticking in every direction, shirt bundled in one hand while the other gracelessly swipes behind him in an awkward angle to try to free the lingering patches that are melting against his heat.
"That's it!" he hisses, gaze sharpening on her as he tosses his shirt aside, the towel gone aksew and having dropped to his feet with all of this. It's the burning look of a man with two scores to settle with his wife now, and the dedication to carrying them out without further delay.
He lunges towards her again, reaching with both hands to grab her to him and hoist her up to his shoulder, kicking and screaming if need be. While the suggestion of removing the legs from one of the chairs might have earned genuine consideration in a different setting, whatever she says rolls right off him for this moment, as though an executioner who has learned to ignore the beggars that try to worm themselves off the chopping block.
Coincidentally, his plan will coincide with an answer, but sleds are the least of his worries for the time being. Instead, he's quite focused and intent on wrestling Flora to him and together, lurching out to the pool where he means to heave her in as if she's no better than a corpse in need of disposal. "Stay out of it Spice or you're next!" he threatens the accomplice in what is probably a futile attempt at sounding in control when he's clearly outnumbered and potentially outmatched.
Kaisel
I'm a daredevil on the highway to hell
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
