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[longwillows]

reach out?

the smell of fresh water in dry desert air. the feeling of cautious curiosity. a place as dangerous as it is resplendent.

c

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[pointedlook]

[ There she is, he thinks, as her expression morphs from disbelief to the shimmer of delight, her laugh ringing out in an utterly joyful peal. While her magic doesn't work here, not as it did in the dream, with the bob of her hair seeming to be in otherworldly suspension, it almost seems as if it's doing that now, her curls shaking with the suppressed motion of her shoulders. It's catching, in its own way, as his smirk softens at the edges, amusement tilting the line of it instead. ]

I figured as much. [ He replies, once she's been able to find words again through her giggles. As for whether it's casual or not—well, it's a label that works for now. While he doesn't like to leave things so open-ended, he also doesn't know what to ascribe to their relationship. To call it committed isn't exactly wrong. Nor is it right. So, he gives her a one-shouldered shrug, both agreeing and not having any further input at the moment.

He will, he's sure, later. After he's had a lot of time to ruminate. ]

Kalmiya, you should know I don't offer things I have no interest in.

[longwillows]

[A smaller wave of laughter, just a chuckle that buoys her words.] I know, I know, just— I told you, I'm sensitive!

[It's more a tease than a reprimand, and the humor is at her own expense, anyway. She knows very well that he wouldn't ask if he weren't truly interested; in fact, the fact that he got to asking at all means he's likely given it a lot of thought prior to bringing it up. There's no justified doubt in her heart, no real reason not to trust that he knows what he's asking for.

There's just that little twinge of fear. Which she knows better than to give an ear to, but—she just wants to make sure. Much as she doesn't want to venture anywhere near that aching void again, the idea of getting Arthur hurt through her thoughtlessness is worse.

Regardless, she has her sought-after reassurance. She also has the persisting heat beneath her skin, more intense at the apples of her cheeks and the base of her spine. Languidly her arms unfold, the palms of her hands settling on the edge of the desk to brace her lean as she shifts her weight and scuffs the ball of one foot idly against the floor. Clear excitement undercuts the attempted mischief in her blooming smile, the slow sway of her tails picking up some speed beneath the large, loose-fitting shirt she wears as a smock.] So, what's the expected turnaround time for this request? I can get to granting it immediately if you need a rush job.

[pointedlook]

[ Despite his reiteration, he can't bring himself to feel frustrated by Kalmiya's near-paranoid triple checking. For one, she's very recently been through an ordeal like none other. For two, she normally didn't need such reassurances. She'd learned to handle herself, measure out her confidence, and give her trust when it was warranted.

The encounter with Sleep had thrown all of that into disarray. While she didn't seem to be on the verge of a crisis, she was still getting back up on wobbly legs; a newborn foal, beginning the process of walking on her own all over again. Judging from the shift in her body language, though, he thinks that she's well on her way. There's mischief in her expression, in the languid swish of her tails, the familiar curve of her mouth. ]

Well, you know me, I'm willing to be patient. [ He says, tone warm with amusement–sometimes it was fun to push buttons. ]

But–[ Leaning forward, he catches the slide of her foot on the hardwood floor, slowly dragging his palm up the bridge of it to loosely curl around a delicate ankle. All the while, he doesn't turn his gaze away from hers, angling it upwards as he continues. ]–if you're offering a rush job, I could hardly say no.

[longwillows]

[His amusement encourages her little smile into a toothy grin. Even with the tether in a weakened state, it shakes with her excitement—as do her tails, their sway becoming a full-on wag. His palm is met with a slight and sudden tensing of her tendons as it alights on her foot, which relaxes as his hand moves upward to circle his fingers around her ankle.

(In tandem with the bloom of supernatural heat beneath her skin, the faint and brief sensation of a tickle passes over the psychic connection.)

She keeps his gaze steadily, irises shimmering with iridescence in her delight.] I'm always happy to shuffle you to the top of my priority list.

[Delicately she bends at the waist to reach down to him. The points of her claws and pads of her fingertips are both gentle as they brush down the side of his face, over the hollow of his cheek and down, where her thumb settles in the shallow dimple of his chin. She's captivated by the resulting warmth, a comforting taste of what their tether used to be.] As long as you don't spread word about my favoritism, of course.