Kaisel
For a moment, he considers assuring her that he's witnessed her stones on more than one occasion; it does not serve him at this time to flatter her or further obscure the image of her balls though. Instead, he attempts a shrug, as if that motion alone could rescue him from the madness. "I'm juuuust sayin'," comes the long, drawn out sound of someone who feels the point rapidly running away. "When your nipples pebble up, you never seem to question the merits of putting those in my mouth."
Sly in the most ridiculous way imaginable, he laughs under his breath as he finishes fluffing their floor. Rolling over onto his back and propping himself up on his elbows, he has to awkwardly duck his head to get a good view of her. Still entirely skeptical of what he's about to hear, he nonetheless calls out an agreement. "Only if this won't end up hexing me!" As good of a thumbs up to following along as he can give to someone who seems unwilling to simply say no, it's not a spell!
Scooching out of the tent and back to his feet, Kaisel starts to collect small bits of wood from the surrounding area. Thin sticks and sheared off sections of bark or dried, old leaves and vines is mostly what is offered up here, but he takes anything that doesn't seem too wet as Flora descends into a rhythm that sounds promising, although the words he steadily chases after her with cause his brows to lift up in mounting concern. Bogs, of course, being known witch habitat.
Her laughter pulls him through any lingering doubt, and before long, he's dumped off his fire-starting supplies as the rising urgency and absurdity of it all pulls him into the full breadth of the song like a current he had no hope of resisting. It's less lyrics he manages than an absolute tumble of sounds and breath, sometimes mangling the word badly enough as the verse races away that he's content just to have a similar sound to it as he chases behind her rush. It all strikes a boundless giddiness inside him that encourages an answering dance alongside the coalescing tempo, grabbing her at the end to drag her into the senseless motion and finally breaking apart with a laugh that hurts his side.
"What was that," he demands around a humored head shake, grin too wide to contain as the fit of it all subsides gradually on an exhale. "Alright," he admits with on raised hand and a head bowed in mild deference. "I admit that was pretty good." Although he's still half inclined to check if he's just sprouted a tail.
Sly in the most ridiculous way imaginable, he laughs under his breath as he finishes fluffing their floor. Rolling over onto his back and propping himself up on his elbows, he has to awkwardly duck his head to get a good view of her. Still entirely skeptical of what he's about to hear, he nonetheless calls out an agreement. "Only if this won't end up hexing me!" As good of a thumbs up to following along as he can give to someone who seems unwilling to simply say no, it's not a spell!
Scooching out of the tent and back to his feet, Kaisel starts to collect small bits of wood from the surrounding area. Thin sticks and sheared off sections of bark or dried, old leaves and vines is mostly what is offered up here, but he takes anything that doesn't seem too wet as Flora descends into a rhythm that sounds promising, although the words he steadily chases after her with cause his brows to lift up in mounting concern. Bogs, of course, being known witch habitat.
Her laughter pulls him through any lingering doubt, and before long, he's dumped off his fire-starting supplies as the rising urgency and absurdity of it all pulls him into the full breadth of the song like a current he had no hope of resisting. It's less lyrics he manages than an absolute tumble of sounds and breath, sometimes mangling the word badly enough as the verse races away that he's content just to have a similar sound to it as he chases behind her rush. It all strikes a boundless giddiness inside him that encourages an answering dance alongside the coalescing tempo, grabbing her at the end to drag her into the senseless motion and finally breaking apart with a laugh that hurts his side.
"What was that," he demands around a humored head shake, grin too wide to contain as the fit of it all subsides gradually on an exhale. "Alright," he admits with on raised hand and a head bowed in mild deference. "I admit that was pretty good." Although he's still half inclined to check if he's just sprouted a tail.
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
