#KRAAAEEHEEEEE

[botanikos]

🌿 from Stella @gynaiko

🌿

SHE IS LIGHTNING IN A BOTTLE — ENERGY THAT HUMS IN YOUR BONES, RAISING FEATHERS, SENDING YOUR HEART INTO FRENZY. . . Though he was certain no one would notice, Stolas feels the weight of something oppressive watching him. Simultaneously, there is a strange TUG towards danger towards familiarity and expectation. She would never see it coming. Does he dare initiate such a dance? She was a formidable opponent in every manner — would he survive the overstepping of this boundary? He could swipe it under the easy pretense of keeping up appearances.

Stolas' luminous gaze settles on Stella with the weight of a doomed narrative. There is a plucky part of him eager to witness her surprise, undoing that perfect and beautiful, prideful composure she carries herself with. With theatrical sweeping of cape, Stolas takes one of Stella's hands and tugs her close. A gloved digit presses gently beneath her beak, tipping her head towards the culprit: that blasted parasitic plant — mistletoe. "Tradition calls for payment, wife." He kisses her with a tenderness he cannot decipher; is it out of fear, or the lingering attempts at normalcy? Or perhaps he wanted to offer the opportunity for retaliation or objection, should she seize the opportunity. Stolas does not hold her hostage for long. The moment the action is performed, he releases her to her freedom.