Parce Qu'ils Croient

Her brazen sense of humor seemed to know no bounds, and he refused to be outdone by this girl. Why did everything have to be a damn pissing contest? “You have my word.” His tone just as teasing as hers among the frenzied attempts to gain the upper hand, without crossing any lines. Only as he stood looking her over, did he vaguely register what she said about her affinity for games and surprises. She instructed him to remember that, and he decided in that moment that he just might.

It seemed that his improvised scoop had caught her off guard as much as he had hoped. But while she struggled a bit for her autonomy, she didn’t put up the fight he was expecting. The warmth of her breath near his ear set his hackles to bristle but not in a bad way. “I count on it.”  He answered as lowly as she. He remained still for a moment, supporting her with his legs locked in place. It was an odd feeling, Contact that he was reluctant to end though that’s exactly what he was prepared to do. “But I still have use for it yet.” He finished in an impishly dismissive tone, dipping his head and neck with one of his forearms, as he shoved off with the other in an attempt to dump her off his shoulders as easily as he had scooped her up. He turned away from her in an instant- if she landed on her feet, or landed in a heap he didn’t pay attention.

At some point in their scuffle, the hail had come to a stop, and they had been to absorbed in one another to have noticed. Clearing his throat, he glanced back over his shoulder. “It’s probably safe to leave.” He didn’t particularly want to. But he wasn’t entirely sure what came after playful wrestle in the storm. Though he had a hunch it couldn’t be good.

"Aresenn Praetor"