doomslayor ,
he always loves seeing her —- whether on the field of war in her javelin or in the stands, quetz never fails to put a smile on his face, forever brighter than her surroundings. light - scorched arms & risen palms hold the pilot like she’s the galaxy: trapped in mortal flesh & forged in fire. she’s cold, but not for long — solar light embraces her as laughter spills from scarred lips. “ i figured that’s what happened. how’s freesia doing, by the way ? and, well — if you want an encore, i’d be happy to oblige! just gotta get some food first… “ as if on cue, his stomach roars, & flynn reluctantly puts quetz back on solid ground, another laugh rumbling from deep in his chest.. “ see? right on cue! and, uh , no problem — as long as nothing vital’s hurt, right? “
he’s softer than quetzalli deserves, but flynn will never agree to that. he saw her for what she was --- not a civilian, not some helpless mortal who was fumbling through trying to survive. it meant a lot, really, but she can’t even bring herself to think much about it as warmth floods flesh. the ache of cold dissolving into nothingness. ❛ she’s there, took a couple hits from a fallen walker, but not too bad. ❜ those shots were dead in the face, but he doesn’t need to know that. she’s being repaired as they talk. as he sets her back on the ground, she tries in earnest not to laugh at his bodily functions but she does. the words giving it an added punch. she understands why he’s a titan with an affinity for the sun; he’s as warm as they come. friendly, kind but also destructive and chaotic. it’s a chaos she’s familiar with. ❛ alright then, where do you wanna eat? you know these places better than i do. ❜ and food in fort tarsis was a lot different than the last city’s cuisine.
