Open To Anyone For Anything RP Post 2

[questionablewit]

Want to tag someone? Tag someone. Put the character you want in the subject line.
Leave a starter, or leave a prompt and I'll start.
Brilliant ideas and clueless flailing all welcome.
AUs and cross-canon, drama and comedy and shipping.
Just throw stuff at me. It's all good.

Comments

auuuughhhh that last line auuuuughhhhh

[duckshaveears]

Their history is suddenly divided into all the time before now and whatever will come after: this fulcrum where they're currently balanced, this moment of touch and acceptance. Crowley's gaze flickers down to see where Zira's thumb strokes his skin, so lightly but unquestionably there, the motion deliberate. Then he looks back up to meet Zira's eyes again, looking for...not reassurance, no. Further confirmation, perhaps, that this is something new. That from this point they walk forward together instead of separately.

Crowley suddenly remembers his fingers are still lingering near Zira's mouth, and that he himself is still essentially kneeling at the demon's feet, and he laughs a little. Slowly, so as not to disturb this new and delicate balance between them, he stands. His hand remains in Zira's, turning to clasp his fingers. "Sit next to me?" he asks, tugging vaguely towards the couch.

My secret skill of delivering super sappy one liners

[salutosinedelectat]

Zirafell blinks up at the angel, finding himself invited to thread the insurmountable trek of moving himself into a chair right next to his own. To share a space, even closer.

"Well." In a tone that, while still teasing, as is usual for him, is softer than ever before. "No need to be so formal about it."

He lets go only to set aside his book, without worrying about returning to it at a later date. Moves along with the angel, careful, giving the moment a level of delicateness for reasons fully unseen, sitting next to him without ever unlinking their hands again.

Um hello I'm sorry I'm the biggest space cadet ever to space?

[duckshaveears]

Crowley rolls his eyes, still beaming. "You want formal? I'll give you formal. Prithee, sirrah, wouldst please you to repose thine self beside me?"

He mock bows, gesturing elaborately with his free hand; the other stays firmly locked with Zira's. "I am but a humble fellow," he continues (lying happily and shamelessly), "and my means are modest. Yet I would with thee all my worldly goods endow, if you would but grant me the favour of thy company."

Delicate is clearly not a word in Crowley's vocabulary.