[ he glances back at the sound of the bottle opening, a grin sneaking its way onto his lips at the way the liquid spills onto the floor. he tosses her a rag and pokes at the fire, the embers slowly coming to life. ]
I'll leave the impressing to the sun.
[ it's a view he's witnesses many times before, courtesy of his habit of falling asleep out here, an open book curled to his chest or his tablet sliding somewhere between the cushions to poke directly at his spine in the morning. the sunlight always wakes him, the rays warming his face even when he covers his eyes to keep from being blinded.
his house is usually empty except for zoya's presence, which is how he prefers it. he can get along with anyone and pull a conversation out of thin air if he needs to, but these days he finds he doesn't mind the quiet so much. ( but he will mind if zoya starts spending all her time with mal. ) he likes the quiet, but he doesn't particularly like being alone. there's a vast difference that he finds is lost on most people. ]
Surprisingly Mal has not almost killed himself in my pond, but there's an unspoken rule that if you bother the fish, you'll never be invited back. People usually just sit there and look at each other wistfully while they wonder if they should kiss or not.
[ once the flames begin to flicker over the logs, he joins alina, reaching into the bag for a pair of white earmuffs with soft rabbit ears attached. he beams as he slides them onto her head without warning. ]
You look exactly how you did in my fantasy. Only more cross. I find it even more delightful this way.
[ then he holds the bag out to her in exchange for the bottle. inside is a round, vintage music box of blue and gold, the lid emblazoned with a sun, tiny birds carved between each ray. the inside of the lid is a backdrop of stars once upon, a golden castle rising from the box to slowly turn to the sound of tinkling notes. ]
no subject
I'll leave the impressing to the sun.
[ it's a view he's witnesses many times before, courtesy of his habit of falling asleep out here, an open book curled to his chest or his tablet sliding somewhere between the cushions to poke directly at his spine in the morning. the sunlight always wakes him, the rays warming his face even when he covers his eyes to keep from being blinded.
his house is usually empty except for zoya's presence, which is how he prefers it. he can get along with anyone and pull a conversation out of thin air if he needs to, but these days he finds he doesn't mind the quiet so much. ( but he will mind if zoya starts spending all her time with mal. ) he likes the quiet, but he doesn't particularly like being alone. there's a vast difference that he finds is lost on most people. ]
Surprisingly Mal has not almost killed himself in my pond, but there's an unspoken rule that if you bother the fish, you'll never be invited back. People usually just sit there and look at each other wistfully while they wonder if they should kiss or not.
[ once the flames begin to flicker over the logs, he joins alina, reaching into the bag for a pair of white earmuffs with soft rabbit ears attached. he beams as he slides them onto her head without warning. ]
You look exactly how you did in my fantasy. Only more cross. I find it even more delightful this way.
[ then he holds the bag out to her in exchange for the bottle. inside is a round, vintage music box of blue and gold, the lid emblazoned with a sun, tiny birds carved between each ray. the inside of the lid is a backdrop of stars once upon, a golden castle rising from the box to slowly turn to the sound of tinkling notes. ]