Kaisel
Her lack of a direct answer leans dangerously near a villain preparing a monologue, finding some exceptional logic to make s'more violence seem heroic and telling every step along the way how she got there. "Glad we understand each other," he returns, grabbing hold of the accusation rather than allowing her to strike him with it. "So if I were you, I'd be very careful about what you'd do to those s'mores." His eyebrows lift up over the warning, encouraging her compliance. "I am a man, Flora. I have needs. Sweet, melted, gooey needs."
Swiftly he is reminded of a much greater need, and traiterously he feels his concern for the hostages shift into something wholly selfish as he descends to a fallen hero. She is bringing him over to the dark side, the eclipse of her chest making him wonder what had ever been worth the light.
Drawn back to some source of light at least, his gaze flicks with hers towards the illuminated stones, and he can't help the little boyish shape his mouth takes. "Can this be?" he wonders, eyes widening with the proper shock of it even as his hands do not delay in the unshucking of canvas and poles. "Do I know something about the woods that the feral Flo-ro doesn't?" His grin is insufferable, even more so because he likely just did a poor job naming it, no paint involved. "Glow. Stone. Painting." He repeats it, slower, like she needs the reminder. "It's kinda like how you make a shape out of a cloud, except you also have to make the cloud...out of rocks and stuff." Maybe better demonstrated than explained. All in good time.
The pole in her hands is all kinds too long and skinny to actually mirror anything properly, and yet he can't keep the recognition of her careful hands sliding with such deliberate care from reflecting down his pants. His movements slow, focus drawn to the subtle bow of the pole straining beneath her fingers. His gaze lifts with considerable delay to hers, the connection with her dangerously angled aqua flaring like a rogue wave through the bond. "Oh, I've got a tip for you," he all but croons, color rising into his ears. "You want it now, or later?"
Swiftly he is reminded of a much greater need, and traiterously he feels his concern for the hostages shift into something wholly selfish as he descends to a fallen hero. She is bringing him over to the dark side, the eclipse of her chest making him wonder what had ever been worth the light.
Drawn back to some source of light at least, his gaze flicks with hers towards the illuminated stones, and he can't help the little boyish shape his mouth takes. "Can this be?" he wonders, eyes widening with the proper shock of it even as his hands do not delay in the unshucking of canvas and poles. "Do I know something about the woods that the feral Flo-ro doesn't?" His grin is insufferable, even more so because he likely just did a poor job naming it, no paint involved. "Glow. Stone. Painting." He repeats it, slower, like she needs the reminder. "It's kinda like how you make a shape out of a cloud, except you also have to make the cloud...out of rocks and stuff." Maybe better demonstrated than explained. All in good time.
The pole in her hands is all kinds too long and skinny to actually mirror anything properly, and yet he can't keep the recognition of her careful hands sliding with such deliberate care from reflecting down his pants. His movements slow, focus drawn to the subtle bow of the pole straining beneath her fingers. His gaze lifts with considerable delay to hers, the connection with her dangerously angled aqua flaring like a rogue wave through the bond. "Oh, I've got a tip for you," he all but croons, color rising into his ears. "You want it now, or later?"
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
