Fingers lace with hers, his skin stark against her pallid tone. A physical tether. More than just whatever the fuck is going on between them. This perpetual tension riding the borders of...
A chuckle to his banter. A quick, nice distraction.
Whatishappeningwhatishappening. The urge to flutter away like a raven, to pull away as she always does. It's like a fucking itch, gnawing in the back of her skull to do so. And yet, it's also dull. Internal alarm bells that are comically punched out.
She gulps. A lick of her sable lips. She stammers. Maybe just like his footing in that world, she can't find hers in this one.
β P-Please, as if you could ever rough me up. I'd like to see you try. β She cringes inside. Pray to Gods he doesn't run with these words for any innuendo. Instead opting to attempt a tap to his chest lightly with a closed fist in a friendly jab.
The fist softens more to an open palm akin to a flower blooming as he brushes her hair away. Even moreso when their eyes met, she can see the faint glow of blue on his visage. Maybe that's why he looks down. Maybe that's why he says those words.
An old insecurity rises up.
Freak.
She looks down to their entwined fingers, away from the blue highlighting his jawline β Y-Yeah, we should... β
But she doesn't move.
The urge to joke is tempting, he could offset the tension right now with the response sitting in the back of his mind. And would it be so bad? Bring them back to square one, the easiness of riffing back-and-forth instead of this taut timidity between them now. She's nervous, that much is clear.
And he doesn't want her to be, not with him.
With the soft impact of her knuckles upon his chest, he lets out an exaggerated gasp, lungs filling with a short but sharp intake of breath. "Ow, I'm sore enough already." A smile.
He'll save the joke for later, when Divine is least expecting it. He has enough foresight to know the right callback could pay in dividends.
A soft glow illuminates from her in blue reflections; the light is not cold nor hot on his skin. The human he is, all mortality and mundane flesh, cannot place the sensation it brings to mind. Completely alien, yet comforting---Because it's her.
A cloud of frustration brews within himself, the indecision nipping at his heels. He's gotta throw this caution into the wind, when has he ever been nervous about a thing like this? Because it's her.
He doesn't want to fuck this up.
Eyes lift from the gravel beneath them, to the unearthly, azure shine of her eyes. He inches forward, close enough to brush her nose with his as he angles slightly. The thumb of his free hand brushes against her jaw, encouraging her gaze to return to him once more.
"Since we both agree," his voice hush in proximity, "... then let's not."
He waits a moment to gauge her response, before he seals the distance and gently meshes his lips to hers. The act gentle but certain, a departure from earlier kisses between the two of them, a fiery storm of lust and vexation. This is to say: I'm sure of this, of us.








