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Evie
fear has favourites
Delicious though the drink and its floating sugary concoctions (now truly floating) may be, he is far sweeter, far more enticing. Though she can't feel his smile beneath her palm as she tries to smear the marshmallow into it, she can see the upturn of his eyes, feel the warmth of his arm around her back as he holds her close. A dangerous thing, but one she is too well-trained into relaxing into.
Laughing a little breathlessly as she successfully adorns his nose with sticky white particles, Evie looks down into his eyes as they go hooded and shadowed, and finds the air she seeks for her lungs is suddenly not within reach. It's a different energy, one that stumbles her long enough for his teeth to find her palm, making her jerk and pull it back with a strangled squeak that morphs into an outraged cry. "I am not edible!" she scolds through her laughter, her free hand coming to pull lightly at his hair in retribution, not so cruel as to put her marshmallow-hand there. They'd be washing it out for weeks. don't let one be you |
Table made by Sky!
