escordvi | closed ⚡🪶 and forevermore, i'll be chasing the storm we had.

And you weren't going to tell me? You wound me, Cidolfus.

[Fingers plucking idly at the collar of his shirt, she looks over the stove at the new pancake cooking, and at the ones that are sitting and waiting to be eaten.

But she'll take a single step back away from him, giving him a decent berth before she's motioning to the pan.]

Well. Let's see it again properly this time.

I was, but wouldn't hurt to have a bit more practice.

[And he just glances wryly at her as she steps back.]

But all right. First you loosen it with the spatula like this and then...

[A flick of his wrist and lift of his hand upward and FLIP. Up the pancake goes, spinning in the air, and this time he catches it just fine.]

There, see? Nothing to it so long as someone doesn't interrupt.

[Pointed look.]

Edited 2024-02-03 03:36 (UTC)

[She flashes him a dramatically apologetic smile.]

As if I knew what you were doing.

[She knew exactly what he was doing, and had stood there and watched for at least two pancakes worth before she said anything.]

Good to know I can easily break your focus. Wonder what I'll do with that.

[She knew exactly what she was doing and his pointed look and roll of his eyes say as much.]

Oy, you.

[A mock, warning tone as he does a smaller flip of the pancake to make sure it was all done before sliding it over to her little pile of pancakes. Yes, he made two distinct sets because it was easier.]

Just keep in mind what goes around...

[She moves in like a cat again, grabbing hold of his shirt in one hand, and unfolding the paper between her fingers behind her back.]

Oh? I didn't think you were one for payback.

[A laugh as he leans back against her a little as he turns off one eye, sets aside the eggs, and pokes the sausages a little more before they're done.]

I think I've made that quite clear that I am.

[Some could consider his little mission to change the world one of revenge of sorts, but that aside, how many times has he turned things around on her? Countless.]

I would be careful where you are flinging those threats, Cidolfus...

[Heart racing again, there's a little crinkling sound behind her back.]

You never know what sort of arsenal one has in their pocket.

[Slowly, she brings out the hand that's been hiding, and flashes him the sketch of her.]

When did you do this?

[It's a good thing she waited until after he turned off the stove, because when he looks wondering 1) what that crinkling sound has been and 2) what she's talking about, he stiffens and actually drops the spatula right into the pan before he immediately tries to snatch it back.]

How did you—!?

[And she immediately pulls it out of his reach, a brow arching at his reaction. She didn't think it would warrant one like this, so it is a bit surprising, but she grins in spite of the way her own cheeks have started to flush with colour.]

It fell out of one of your doodle journals.

[Oh this little—

There's a bit of a pensive frown as he looks at that sketch. Of all the ones she had to find, it had to be that one—]

They're not doodle journals.

[And just going to once again try and grab it, giving her a withering look as he even steps towards her as if to close the distance. Give it!!]

[She steps back, and the paper flits out of her hand, riding on an invisible wind above her head, just out of his reach.]

I didn't know you thought so fondly of me, Cidolfus...

[..Oh now that is just cheating and he is going to stand there with a hand on his hip as he looks at her in disbelief.

And a sigh as he shakes his head before he glances away to the side.]

I've always had.

[Yes, and other less fond things, but it never erased his real feelings.]

[Is it cheating if she uses every skill at her disposal to keep it out of his reach?

But when his eyes glance away and she hears that, her smile fades a touch, and the wind stops to let the paper flutter down into her hand again.

... Well, that was a bit of a twist to the heart followed by a sharp pang of guilt.

Her expression softens.]

Is that why?

[He chews his inner cheek a moment, debating if he should tell her the truth or say something else. One that's not a lie, per se, but not true for that particular sketch. In the end he just runs his hand over his face and the looks back at her, eyes first going to hers then to the sketch now in her hands before he points to it.]

I drew it not long after we entered this world.

[Let's just leave it that for now, see if she can take a guess on "how long." Well, not that it matters if she ever knew the precise time or circumstance, they were still at each other's throats for a little while there.]

[Her eyes break from his to look down at the paper.

The how long doesn't really matter. She doesn't need to know that to know that it was drawn during their times of hardship. The times when she did spit poison in his face and would rather have seen him at the bottom of the ocean than in front of her.

And yet, even then, when she'd screamed at him time and time again to leave her alone, he still...

She's at a complete loss for words now, and her heart races too fast that she doesn't think she can even find her voice through it.

So, all she does is lower it, step forward, and crashes her mouth to his.]

[He watches her, watches her making those connections. He doesn't want her to feel guilty or regret, since at the time things were just—bad, to say it extremely mildly. And even that sketch had been an unconscious creation. One that just formed one night and he didn't realize it until he was half finished with it. Shoved it in one of his journals as if to chastise himself for thinking old things again, hoping old things again. Of course he could have just thrown it away, but he didn't. He couldn't. So he just buried it like everything else until he started moving again.

And so he wonders what she's thinking, what she might say or do. If she'll call him a stupid old fool or nothing at all. So the crashing kiss catches him slightly off guard, but it doesn't take half a second for his arms to go around her, pulling her in close as he pushes right back.]

[She's careful with that slip of parchment, holding it so that it doesn't wrinkle further from the way that she wraps her arms around him too. It's a violent kiss, a torrent of those emotions releasing from her in the way she knows how. Those thoughts that she cannot process instead finding their way from her lips to his so that he knows exactly what she thinks about this, how she feels...

And if it were not for the food on the stove and counter or the way her stomach is about to loose another grumble, she might have dragged him back to bed with her right then and there, but for now, she only parts with red, swollen lips.]

... Why, though?

[It's a damn shame indeed as he would do the same. Or just take her on the table, wouldn't be the first time— ~~a different kind of breakfast~~

So at her question there's just a small exhale.]

The drawing? ...Just kind of happened.

[She brings it forward again so that she can look at it, but her lips brush over his one more time before she pulls back... just far enough.]

... It's very good.

[She means that, genuinely.

Though, there is some guilt and regret edging her eyes when she looks over it.]

[A light smile as his arm slips to be more around her waist and he glances down at it.]

Bit rough. Not exactly an "artist" in that sense.

[He can draw, but his skill is more on designs and objects than people.]

[Seeing his smile eases some of that horrible tension that had been settling into her, and she breathes out with the smallest laugh, surprised at how heavy it still sounds.]

Well. You certainly captured me better than anyone else could...

[But there is a deeper meaning to that. Not simply in the physical sense, but even if she would be loathe to admit it aloud, he is the only person who knows her well enough to be able to do so.]

Hope that's not the only thing I'll capture.

[As he speaks, his eyes move more to her, his voice steady, but carrying that deeper meaning that he's sure she'll catch.]

[Her hand slides up his back, pressing their bodies a little closer.]

... Have you not already captured it?

[Her?]

I'd like to think so.

[A bit more of a playful smile, his hand squeezing her just a little before his eyes go back to the drawing.]

Keep it. It's of you, anyway.

But...

[It's his drawing?

And though the playful glint still twinkles in her eyes, there's something softer about them when she looks at him, then at the sketch.]

... You don't want it to remind you of me?

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