selfimage: — ɢᴀʀʙᴇᴛᴛ — (That's a promise.)
nerd baby ([personal profile] selfimage) wrote 2015-09-09 01:15 am (UTC)

[ magic boots made for various sneaky and magical endeavors, of course. he couldn't skirt around without resources.

there's a quirk of his lips to the opposite side as she gives him permission. if there's something he excels at, it's surprising people.

she offers him her hand, he takes it, and with a tug pulls her in toward him. in the same motion he tips forward, an arm around her shoulders as he trips her up, grabbing her knees to let them dangle from his forearm. it's all a quick, playful motion. something that seems lost when all worlds are ending. maybe there's no time for it, but maybe he'd rather find time for it.

what's the use of an apocalypse if there's nothing of value to lose?

a spell is muttered and just like (and unlike) the last time, they're somewhere else in an instant. he's jogging jovially along a stretch of cloud, the peaks of the mountains far below their feet. the air was cold, thin and it was difficult to breathe.
]

Getting your air-legs can be a tricky.

[ he sounds immensely self-satisfied, waiting for the dragons to join them. ]

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