@windstormwielding said:
☁ = being caught in the middle a storm with them ( !!!!!!!! )
Send a symbol for my muse’s reaction to your muse—
Had it been like any other typical summer date at the theme park with the sun beaming in all its glory, a simple race in their gigai for old time’s sake wouldn’t have sounded like a bad idea, no. Unfortunately for the lieutenant of the 10th, however, the storm decided to rain on her parade—in both its literal and figurative senses—on the one day off she had managed to earn from her captain in order to finally savor the long-overdue trip to the world of the living with her dearly beloved.
Maybe she was, indeed, to blame for her own hesitation—but how could she not, when her darling’s spellbinding smile that gleamed as he practically danced in his element robbed her off her selfish urge to tell him the murkiest of her memories that would awaken with the sound of the raging thunder? Of those lonely hours where she’d felt smaller than she’d already been, clutching onto her legs in her safe corner, trying to escape the seeping water and wind’s umpteenth attempt to engulf her along with their decaying shack while she’d waited for her scrawny little friend to come home to her rescue; from wherever he’d run off to without a word again earlier that day?
Surely she knew better than to ever dare ruining her beau’s joy with just another centuries-old woe of hers—especially now, of all the worst possible timings. So then it was with a heavy heart that the vixen eventually jogged behind the casting shadow of her favorite silver strands; plump lips all trembling—almost as if they had been chanting a secret prayer that she wished no one but whatever divine power in charge for the weather to eavesdrop.
And of course... Of course it had to happen—the rumbling cacophony that shook the ground beneath her feet and got her feeling unbearably weak in the knees. She wanted to scream, and yet nothing came out—probably because before she even knew it, Rangiku already had her arms wrapped around Kōtarō’s body; face buried in the dampened fabric that was his human-style clothing.
“Gotcha~” was the only decipherable word to leave her throat in that very moment; whereas the rest dispersed into whispers, muffled by her jagged breathing and the statics that was the drizzle of the generous downpour.
“Don’t you ever leave me like that again.”
