EVIE
“Your faith in my abilities is incredible,” she chuckles softly, knowing the dramatics will only live in their daydreams. The dramatics that continue on into the real world are far more fun to focus on anyway; lost limbs and landshark rodeos are somehow not nearly as humorous and diverting as slapping flour on each other like children in a mud puddle.
She isn’t expecting his whisper to be so defeated and accepting of his fate, and her cheeks deepen into shades of red as she laughs helplessly, attacking hand sliding from his cheek to his shoulder to join the one still fisted in his shirt in an effort to keep her standing as the laughter shakes through her body. Everything smells like flour - even his natural scent is hidden beneath it, and the egg and sugar mix can’t even entice her from where it’s buried beneath the powder that has surely made its way into her nose. Blue eyes made bright with joy peer up as his tilt down, and the intensity of his gaze forces air into her lungs so fast they seize and stutter to a stop. Simultaneously warring with the natural urge to smile and go still, trusting him in her personal space regardless of what he intended to do in it, and the knowledge that his revenge is surely on the immediate horizon.
Evie squawks as he unexpectedly lunges for the counter, effectively squishing her against it as he plucks the bowl from behind her. Craning her head around and spotting what he had - Belial, looking chastened but unrepentant - the Evergreen makes an ‘oops’ face and belatedly relinquishes Deimos’ shirt. The rumble of his laughter is the last thing her fingertips feel as they depart, and her own joins freely as her now unencumbered hands rise to swipe uselessly at flour and egg on her cheeks. “Truce it is,” she agrees, even if she can’t tamper down the grin on her face fueled by fulfilled mischief and fun. “Are we going to need more flour to be able to fold it in?” She’d wait for him to grab it if necessary, but her hand is already reaching for the utensil in the bowl, ready to begin mixing and churning anew.
She isn’t expecting his whisper to be so defeated and accepting of his fate, and her cheeks deepen into shades of red as she laughs helplessly, attacking hand sliding from his cheek to his shoulder to join the one still fisted in his shirt in an effort to keep her standing as the laughter shakes through her body. Everything smells like flour - even his natural scent is hidden beneath it, and the egg and sugar mix can’t even entice her from where it’s buried beneath the powder that has surely made its way into her nose. Blue eyes made bright with joy peer up as his tilt down, and the intensity of his gaze forces air into her lungs so fast they seize and stutter to a stop. Simultaneously warring with the natural urge to smile and go still, trusting him in her personal space regardless of what he intended to do in it, and the knowledge that his revenge is surely on the immediate horizon.
Evie squawks as he unexpectedly lunges for the counter, effectively squishing her against it as he plucks the bowl from behind her. Craning her head around and spotting what he had - Belial, looking chastened but unrepentant - the Evergreen makes an ‘oops’ face and belatedly relinquishes Deimos’ shirt. The rumble of his laughter is the last thing her fingertips feel as they depart, and her own joins freely as her now unencumbered hands rise to swipe uselessly at flour and egg on her cheeks. “Truce it is,” she agrees, even if she can’t tamper down the grin on her face fueled by fulfilled mischief and fun. “Are we going to need more flour to be able to fold it in?” She’d wait for him to grab it if necessary, but her hand is already reaching for the utensil in the bowl, ready to begin mixing and churning anew.
Don't look up, just let them think
There's no place else you'd rather be
There's no place else you'd rather be
