Don't Laugh. [ For Kairi! ]

“ Don't laugh. ” [ for kairi! ]

►  ❪  MIXED BAG  ❫

         The wrong choice of words to make use of in this scenario  ( of all scenarios !! ), serving to achieve the opposite effect he desired. Manifesting as a wrench to work against him, they're taken to the trembling bolts barring delighted giggles behind raised brows and pinched grin, undoing the wobbling seal already straining to hold back more than the occasional giggle, allowing peals of ungraceful laughter to tumble forth. A sudden crescendo of glee, a rising wave of joy crashing against the sea's shore, stealing away air from lungs and reducing the shaking girl to heaving breaths.

         ❝ H-How do you —- ❞  Wheezes fought to find a place to be heard among the fit of amusement.  ❝ — ex-pect me n-not to ??  I can't — ❞  

         It's too much, a struggle to seek enough air to manage getting that much of a response. tapering off into few seconds of silence. It's still too much. It couldn't be contained within the hollows of her chest, stifled snickers bouncing around with fervour, steam compressed tighter and tighter, soon forcing its way up and the exhale of air pitched into another round of laughs. Tears began to seep in and blur vision. An arm rose to swipe at her eyes and clear them. She missed the mark entirely, motion almost sending her careening to the floor. Rather than meet the ground and kick up debris, Kairi stumbled into her friend, shoulder resting against arm as body slumped into his side, relying on his sturdy frame to keep her propped upright.

         Stars above, she hadn't laughed so hard or so freely in ages. The tense, acrid fog settled within her chest lifted, dispelled if even for this bright, shining moment. Maybe Riku knew in his own unique way, about the myriad of doubts / familiar frustrations / old wrenching aches plaguing her mind. Maybe this was a reminder that he was still here — not gone too far ahead yet / with her by her side / present and alive. Maybe this was all wishful thinking, spun up as a cooling balm to ease the burns left behind. Intentional or not, appreciation for the other sat warm in her heart all the same.

         It had slipped away under the cover of the fog  ( the feeling forgotten and abandoned )  but as she looked at Riku, Kairi remembered how it felt to be home.

         A hand brushed aside lingering tears while the other shifted between them, reaching for his. Only when she secured hold of it, when they're hand in hand, did she straighten up. ❝ It's not bad. I swear it's not. ❞  Head shaking, she squeezed his hand, smile a little lighter, easy and affectionate.  ❝ I know I'm laughing, but I mean it ! ❞

Apologies for the sudden disappearance. At the beginning of November, I left the country to attend my grand uncle's funeral and haven't really had the drive to be active on my blogs. Right now I'm focusing on getting back into writing.

I'm going to put this blog through a soft refresh of sorts to fix it, organize my muses and drafts to see what I need to catch up with, and post a few things I had been previously working on. Thanks for your patience and understanding.

Chances

Zeldris loved his brother. More than anything. He gave him so many chances. Far more than what any other demon would have dared to consider.

With life in the Demon Realm, he and Meliodas may have had too much weight and pressure put upon their shoulders, but at least it was a burden they bore together. Zeldris nearly collapsed under the weight of it all after Meliodas gallivanted off with a goddess of all things.

Despite of what he assumed were murmurs of baseless criticism against Meliodas, he still maintained his trust and advocated for the elder prince in his absence, harshly defending him against the notion of his brother being willingly seen in the presence of a goddess, their sword enemy.

Soon after his exit, but before it was revealed he was a part of Stigma, he tried a final time to make Meliodas see reason. Tried convincing him that blatantly running off with the Supreme Deity's daughter was not worth bringing their father's ire upon him ( and he feared for his brother's life ), but Meliodas wouldn't capitulate.

But it was back when Meliodas tried to convince him to leave with Gelda, things truly changed. It was at that point Zeldris wondered if the level of care was one sided, if Meliodas was so blinded by the goddess that he could only view problems on a surface level, that his concern was skin deep / superficial at best. He didn't care think about Gelda's position in all this. Was she to endure the sunlight that bore down on the earth for as long as his brother dared to run ? Would she never know a moment of safety and security again in order to shoulder the burden Meliodas would toss on her shoulders ? His beloved was being used against him, a subtle manipulation to steer him to Meliodas' side, but a manipulation all the same to achieve what his brother wanted. Meliodas didn't care beyond any brother obligations that weren't already torn to shreds. He didn't think about the ramifications of what he himself had already done, what he was about to bring upon himself and sheer damage he was going to leave in his wake. It showed him how little thought he put into any of this.

But for a moment he considered. When Meliodas dangled hope on a string before it was cruelly ripped away, he wondered if he too could be strong like him, strong enough to take his brother's hand and fight against the storm to come. But he wasn't. He isn't. The realization of one time Meliodas tried reaching out, and it wasn't even sincere for the reasons he wished it were.

It's a calculated risk, daring to draw so close, just even beginning to edge within his periphery, but all signs of observations lent itself to the idea that the blonde seemed to be in a relatively (?) better mood than his usual days. Courage mustered as nerves steeled, clamping down on the instinctive desire to shy away once red eyes land on him, he does his best to offer a neutral wave, shaky smile more akin to bared teeth, "O-Oh, hi Kacchan, I didn't see you there."

          NITROGLYCERINE IS EASY TO SET OFF,  A FLEX OF HIS hand and the palm is an open sphere of crackling lights and smoke,  the scent of burnt sugar remains on the skin as it tears and sinews,  what’s left is a map of pale lines that indent and blur the life lines.   What’s left of him is artwork,  a melding of an integral structure that won’t blast from its hinges,  it’s a mean and hardened set of mind and body   —   but it’s sound,  it’s kept itself together,  it hasn’t died yet.   It might not be everyone’s but it’s his calm,  this storm of fire and ash that keeps his heart from slowing down.   There’s always been someone there that only ever refuses to back off,  no matter how hard the shove,  how loud the clap of thunder,  this stubborn idiot will manage to land in the eye of the storm and flinch away from the first sign of trouble.   This boy Katsuki grew up with,  the flinching has almost stopped.   And he doesn’t think he would have ever noticed until now,  of how alone Izuku looked like until he wasn’t anymore.   These people,  this school,  All Might. . .  they’ve changed something,  but Izuku is still acting like that nervous boy from their childhood.   Katsuki thought it was all pretend but there’s something else to figure out.   In the meantime,  Katsuki has already gotten used to the idea of having to see that face over and over,  no matter what,  Deku will keep going.

          He’s used to it,  in a way they’re both getting used to this something building up that didn’t have Katsuki blow a fuse and didn’t have Izuku tremble like a leaf.   He’s really trying though,  Katsuki can see that,  there’s an effort to not falling apart.   (  And a quiet yet nagging sensation in his gut tells him it’s all his doing,  and soon enough he’ll have to pick up the pieces.  )   There’s only but a single twitch from his nerves,  above his brow to where the crinkle of a scowl starts and the muscles of his face pull on instinct,  such a tuned and automatic response when Izuku is in front of him.   The blond does not act on it,  not this time,  hardly a reason to ignite such a reaction.   His hands are not blistering,  his fangs are sheathed.   Just have a fucking normal conversation.   They used to do that.   There’s no wave back but there’s no lack of instigating either;  a hum closer to a grunt and a single degree from the tilt of his head,  as neutral as he can get.   That’s where they stand now,  isn’t it?   Neutral.

               “  Yeah.  ”     Katsuki readjusts one of his hearing aids,  eyes keeping the temperature of smoldering embers.     “  You see me now. Want something?  ”

𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐞’𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞  : //   @asteriskheart  /  deku.

“ why did you come? ”  @ Sora

►  ❪ QUESTIONS  ❫

         Wide smile stretched across visage, a shower of light marking the exit of his blade, hands linking behind mused hair as body rocked on its heels, balance righted just before gravity took hold. Nonchalance, a bit off tempo in the beat of the moment but the key’s chosen wielder would argue that a silly question incurred a silly response.

         ❝ Of course I would. ❞ Excuse him if fond exasperation glossed over the teasing tucked away in the recesses of his voice. Why would he show up ? Why wouldn’t he ? Honestly, Gemiya held much closer bonds to Kairi than Sora, but still — she should know him better than that by now. They were friends !

         ( weight upon shoulders builds, bending / creaking / but bones not quite breaking — ready to give just a bit more, as much as it took to see it through. how much can one heart give before it gives, collapsing under the heaviness of its own kindness ? )

         If it could help even a little bit, then putting in an appearance would be worth the effort. It’s who he was, had always been, and despite everything on his journey, hardships and trials hadn’t changed that the slightest about them him. ❝ I’ll always lend a hand. You know how it is. ❞

@deathburns​ asked; “  i trust you with parts of myself i’m afraid to show anyone else.  ” /   “  you make me feel brave.  ” [ jazzhands bellatte agenda ]

►  ❪  AFFECTIONATE  ❫

         Greenery thrived on the isles elevated among the sea of clouds. The long expanse of years upon years allowed isolated ecosystems to flourish new life in the sky, but not to this extent. Removal of limited space and a change in altitude made all the difference, a staggering contrast highlighting what one celestial picked up on soon after her descent. Earthen flora spilled over into countless varieties, and Ellatte found herself falling in love with each new one stumbled across, another entry to her expanding journal.

         A lively bouquet / parting gift from the owner of a flower shop the town over secured in the crook of her arm as she gave her usual greeting to Bellion. It didn't take long for a question about the flowers' presence to wind up with him holding them as she launched headfirst into enthusiastic rambling.

         Maybe in another life, she could have focused on caring for plants, immersing herself in wondrous botany rather than readying herself for battles lying in wait. A fear born from the guillotine poised over the exposed necks of her people, constructed thousands of years ago by the litany of demons. But there's more to their presumed executioners than meets the eye.

         ( would she still know bellion in that type of world, personally, dare she say almost intimately ?  would he occupy the same space in her life he guarded now ? )

         A gentle tune punctuated the lull in her explanations, a voiceless melody reverberating in a soothing hum as she took in his countenance. The easygoing posture as he reclined against a thick, weathered branch of one of many oaks of the forest. The expression he watched her with.

         It's hard to describe the look she's seen on him more often than not as of late, to varying degrees. Thinking, consideration. A touch stifling in its focus / searching / intensity. But the heated edges were softened by... she's unsure.

         It felt like he's testing something. Surveying her reactions.

         Sometimes it’s a prelude to bursts of odd behaviour. Like the times he brought her heaps of food  ( more than she knew what to do with / the majority of it ends up given to the villagers ), or he'd say something strange. Missing proper context, connotations she failed to grasp, it sailed right overhead. A blank stare in response may force him to backtrack and offer tentative reasonings or simple, evasive denials to requests of further insight. A confusing blend of distant yet overly affectionate. Why the hell did he make himself both open and hard to read at the same time ?  The avenue of mixed messages waltzed in far too easily than it had any right to.

         It frustrated Ellatte, yet also tragically endeared her. But she wouldn't dare be caught telling him as much; he's prideful enough already. The last thing he needed was any type of ego boost courtesy of her.

         ❝ You almost look like a completely different person when you let yourself relax. ❞  A genuine observation and a past one often kept to herself. It's verbalized this time, slipping through the cage of idle thoughts with ease. She's almost aghast at how freely it's aired but he seemed none too bothered by it.

❝ I trust you with parts of myself I'm afraid to show anyone else. ❞

         It's spoken casually to the point she wondered if his words were conjured up by the imagination. A demon placing any measure of faith in a goddess. I trust you, like he's commenting on something utterly mundane. I trust you, like a simple natural fact, rather than the gravity of what it inherently carried. Trust. A precious component underlying the bridge of connection formed between two entities, sometimes paving the way for the unthinkable to happen.

         Colour crept up from her neck, cheeks gaining a rosier tint as the basest urge to glance away from his vivid scrutiny seized her, a refusal to show flustered reaction in full,  ❝ I'm glad that you can tell me that. I really am !  But you shouldn't say such things so lightly. That... It's... ❞

         It's treading unknown waters.

         He trusted her.

         Ears burned under the force of the heat brewing beneath skin. A fist pressed against her chest, a silent plea sent to a heart picking up its pace to cut it out at once. Mind quickly redirected before it could fasten itself to the train of thought. If allowed to sit and set roots, it'd making her think. It’d make her... wonder.

         It's hard to imagine Bellion as getting scared over anything. He's Bellion. A high ranking demon entire armies followed into battle. The surviving leader of the former six knights of black, terrifying figures carved into the celestials’ history and spoken of long after in hushed, wary tones as evil, ferocious monsters without fear, the impure who murdered and devoured life. The strong — if at times lax — front he presented rarely faltered. The pillar of almost insurmountable strength he represented in her eyes felt ironclad. What could shake the foundations of his heart ?

         Some tension's expelled as she forcefully loosened the tight knot sitting firm within her chest, whitened knuckles regaining colour as fingers slowly unfurled. A sigh transitioned into a miffed huff mid breath and she pushed hair out of her eyes, tucking stray strands of white behind the shell of an ear.

         Her feathers needed to smooth out. She shouldn't be so blatantly thrown off balance by this. He's her friend. Of course she's happy he trusted her. To hear him say that gave a certain warmth, a lightness to her chest like it could walk on clouds. It's not any different from when Solaad chose to confide in her and having the knowledge that it's because she could be relied on.

         The faint flush of pink lingered from the earlier flood of happiness on the apple of her cheeks and tips of the ears, heart a touch upbeat from baseline but poise was restored for the most part. Hopefully the brief interlude of silence from her end as she collected her thoughts didn't come off as abnormal. She chanced a glance up.

         He's there. What once spanned a few strides had been reduced to mere steps as he stood before her, not wreathed in hellbent wrath but surrounded by the embrace of flora, taking her hand in his once he regained her wandering attention. He did nothing but hold it, something like a smile playing on the corner of his lips, and with him closer she found she couldn't look away as easily. So unnecessarily close, and tender, and fond, and strange. Bellion, forged from war and yet... she began to think. This might be a version of him that maybe no one else ever quite had the opportunity to witness, and she’s painfully aware of how lucky she was to have been given this chance.

         Then almost as fast as it came into existence, the almost smile disappeared, replaced by something she didn't recognize. Something that almost looked like longing.

❝ You make me feel brave. ❞

         The bricks of composure painstakingly built up... she could see crumbling into dust as indiscernible emotions railed into them at full force. He's...!

         Ellatte retracted her hand from his grip, cutting the advancement short, unwilling to allow the feelings to fully take hold and petrify her into another round of stunned, flustered silence. Uncertainty bit, clamping down like a wild thing. ( what would looking upon him again reveal ?  rejection's far from her intent, but she didn't want to feel the if only brief sting of whatever emotion she could've wrought by pulling away ). Closed lungs were forced to work, to speak through the spun sugar oh so sweet on the tongue and threatening to clog the throat.

         ❝ Flowers can hold so many meanings. It's another language entirely, and I may be a novice at it but I think I'm getting better at speaking it. Look here at this one. ❞  Leaning closer, ever mindful of the proximity, a particular flower's separated from the rest and she plucked it from the bouquet, thumb caressing vibrant petals,  ❝ It's a freesia. I've been told while others can imply similar things, this flower is the only one that symbolizes trust. ❞

         Stem tucked between two fingers, she reached out to him this time. Catching his hand in her own set, both folded around it in a gentle yet firm hold.  ❝ I carried it here after I heard that because when I looked at it I thought of you. ❞  She didn't lift her face yet, letting her gaze fall upon their joined hands, the blossoming flower sprouting from that connection.

         A goddess and a demon, bound not by the violence expected of them but instead trust. A nigh unthinkable engagement between the clans, meaningful chances for such long since torn apart with ashes scattered to the winds, leaving behind inherent hatred and instinct to draw blood before one's own met that fate. A willingness to engage in those acts may have been there originally — natural after the nature of their circumstances — but it too, like all things, dissipated with time.

         Those days were behind her now. While the future's more uncertain than before, she's all the more ready to confront it. With Bellion here, it seemed...a little bit easier to take that step. What was bravery, if not the will to continue despite shackles of doubt and fear and doubt plaguing one's resolution ?

         Silver crown tilted forward, bringing forehead to rest against his torso, an action gingerly done in execution with the barest of force behind it. A light tap more than anything / a silent apology for moments before. The wide margin of height placed the flowers a scant breath away from a small smile that softened features, the bright petals reflected glow casting a mosaic of colour as leaves brushed against skin. The freesia truly did look beautiful.

         Face prickled ever so slightly with the hint of the returning blush, lips shifting into something just shy of stupidly joyful.  ❝ I'd like to be brave too. ❞