Thrice cursed bleeding heart

Solor gave a long suffered sigh at her harrumph, and at her name choice. Really, Notch? He had had a perfectly poetic reason for a different name. Apparently Vail was reluctant to lose an inch of ground when it came to Solor, who simply shrugged at let her be.
Not two seconds later the boy would be raising his eyebrows in astonishment and watching her face plant into the ground. He might have tried to dice forward to catch her but he was too far away, and besides, there something satisfying about the sight.

He came up beside her with a sigh. “Really, Vail?” he asked, before nosing his head into her neck with a gentleness that differed from his words or tone. The movement was to sniff for injuries and give her a hand up if she desired – through he honestly doubted she would use any support offered by him.