Yes, fun. You and I have really only had fun in response to —
[ With one hand, he gestures with a snap of his wrist, as if wafting away an acrid or unpleasant scent. Their fun tended to come as a way to distract themselves from difficult situations; his terror over being haunted by his brother in the wake of dreams from the Tree, the fun of sexual intimacy was not entirely there either because it was her first time and he'd wanted to treat her better than her world taught her that she would be treated. The two of them never really went out, or did anything together apart from working, battling and acknowledging their bond.
When she'd shorn her hair, he'd realized — she was his friend, too. He'd named her such, desperate to show her that even though he was a terrible individual, he cared for her; that the two things weren't mutually exclusive. And now, he was in her small "garden" to ensure everything grew healthy and bountiful with a spell that had earned him a place wherever flora and crops needed tending to. ]
You know.
[ Hopefully, she does.
He laces his fingers behind his back, twisting his wrists to be able to tuck his knuckles into the small of his spine as he begins to approach her. The oddly domestic way she dresses, does her chores, styles her hair now — they're things he never had to do, because he either didn't need to wash his clothes ( nor bathe, really; as a god of desert sands, he was clean and smelled neutral with the hint of whatever someone liked ), nor dress any differently ( save for fun, or practicality on the Scorching Isles ). It was something he saw the mortals do, though. What a strange way to have to spend one's time! ]
Could I help you? [ And though his eyes drift over Naira, he doesn't say anything yet.
He's smelled Claude and Hayame's scents on one another for some time, and has been resisting the urge to give Claude the shotgun speech... save for that he nearly did, in telling him not to ruin his precious warrior's strong heart. ]
HAMYAAAAAAAAAAAMS
[ With one hand, he gestures with a snap of his wrist, as if wafting away an acrid or unpleasant scent. Their fun tended to come as a way to distract themselves from difficult situations; his terror over being haunted by his brother in the wake of dreams from the Tree, the fun of sexual intimacy was not entirely there either because it was her first time and he'd wanted to treat her better than her world taught her that she would be treated. The two of them never really went out, or did anything together apart from working, battling and acknowledging their bond.
When she'd shorn her hair, he'd realized — she was his friend, too. He'd named her such, desperate to show her that even though he was a terrible individual, he cared for her; that the two things weren't mutually exclusive. And now, he was in her small "garden" to ensure everything grew healthy and bountiful with a spell that had earned him a place wherever flora and crops needed tending to. ]
You know.
[ Hopefully, she does.
He laces his fingers behind his back, twisting his wrists to be able to tuck his knuckles into the small of his spine as he begins to approach her. The oddly domestic way she dresses, does her chores, styles her hair now — they're things he never had to do, because he either didn't need to wash his clothes ( nor bathe, really; as a god of desert sands, he was clean and smelled neutral with the hint of whatever someone liked ), nor dress any differently ( save for fun, or practicality on the Scorching Isles ). It was something he saw the mortals do, though. What a strange way to have to spend one's time! ]
Could I help you? [ And though his eyes drift over Naira, he doesn't say anything yet.
He's smelled Claude and Hayame's scents on one another for some time, and has been resisting the urge to give Claude the shotgun speech... save for that he nearly did, in telling him not to ruin his precious warrior's strong heart. ]