Kaisel
It doesn't much matter where they are or what they're doing, not when the world falls away around them anyway, reshaping itself into something meant just for them. Although her abilities do a fine job of it outright, it's her vicinity that grants its own kind of magic, one that doesn't belong to any particular element or god, just to all the ways they love each other. Here, wombling through this moment of her past, entwined with the present of her, there's nothing left but the shape of her smile and the warm, certain curl of her hand in his. The weight of her breath catches somewhere between a laugh and a hopeless sigh, and he finds himself grinning quite by accident at the thought of hearing that joyful exasperation for the rest of his life. It's strange, in the best way, to know he'll keep falling in love with versions of her he hasn't met yet, just as surely as he adores this past one he'd never known until now. They're all Flora, and every one of them he meets only gives him another reason to love her all the more.
He forgets, for a moment, to scheme and jest and sprinkle himself over the conversation. Even when her hand squeezes his with its own little heartbeat, effortless in its ability to ground him, the bond echoing it like a knock upon his soul, he only answers back with a quick roll of his thumb over her knuckles. When her gaze splashes across him with all the sureness of the tide creeping over bare feet, the u sure 'bout that? plain in her expression, he only slides back a look wild with the delight of even sharing a dream about a house that conspires with her.
When the silence presses in, it catches him, and a breathy laugh slips free at last. Still vulnerable with all the care he's written her name on, his voice rouses low and dreamy "For sure forget I said anything then. I don't have the best reputation with the stairs or the doorways." He'd like to blame the spirits, but it feels like it's the actual house always tripping him up, and is not at all related to how quickly he takes the stairs or turns corners. "And you definitely don't need more backup." Spice is plenty, and there's always Enzo and Mateo happy to jump to her side whenever the shenanigans really spill over.
Suddenly, he darts forward, leaping out of the little reverie of fondness and soft edges, pulling her along with him where they're linked. "Come on!" he encourages brightly. "We're gonna make a new camping memory, one that kid-us would be proud of." One they could look back on when they'd gone grey and laugh as surely as they will today. "I think we could make camp at the spot ahead." Winking around the treehouse of the past, an impressive deposit of glowstones awaits them, each rock slightly varying in hue and shape from the other. Practically, it's not as good as her original claim she'd staked behind them, but aesthetically, it's got all the promise of camp rave.
He forgets, for a moment, to scheme and jest and sprinkle himself over the conversation. Even when her hand squeezes his with its own little heartbeat, effortless in its ability to ground him, the bond echoing it like a knock upon his soul, he only answers back with a quick roll of his thumb over her knuckles. When her gaze splashes across him with all the sureness of the tide creeping over bare feet, the u sure 'bout that? plain in her expression, he only slides back a look wild with the delight of even sharing a dream about a house that conspires with her.
When the silence presses in, it catches him, and a breathy laugh slips free at last. Still vulnerable with all the care he's written her name on, his voice rouses low and dreamy "For sure forget I said anything then. I don't have the best reputation with the stairs or the doorways." He'd like to blame the spirits, but it feels like it's the actual house always tripping him up, and is not at all related to how quickly he takes the stairs or turns corners. "And you definitely don't need more backup." Spice is plenty, and there's always Enzo and Mateo happy to jump to her side whenever the shenanigans really spill over.
Suddenly, he darts forward, leaping out of the little reverie of fondness and soft edges, pulling her along with him where they're linked. "Come on!" he encourages brightly. "We're gonna make a new camping memory, one that kid-us would be proud of." One they could look back on when they'd gone grey and laugh as surely as they will today. "I think we could make camp at the spot ahead." Winking around the treehouse of the past, an impressive deposit of glowstones awaits them, each rock slightly varying in hue and shape from the other. Practically, it's not as good as her original claim she'd staked behind them, but aesthetically, it's got all the promise of camp rave.
Haters on my back like a backpack
Blowin' up I'm fucking flawless
Blowin' up I'm fucking flawless
Code stolen from Queen Sky
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
