[Not that he's ever floated before -- on a river, perhaps, but that's about it. On water. This isn't quite like that. But the air? Certainly it could feel like this. A heaviness but a lightness all at once.
His eyes widen a bit as her lips so gracefully touch his. Like a kiss. Except he breathes in deeply, lost a bit in the floral scent that he's made. Gods. That's something else. Wait. Why is she leaning away? He was quite sure they were going to kiss, and he even leans over before tipping a bit, just managing to catch himself on his seat.]
Yes, right. Everything is okay. [Honestly, he's very sure he could sit here and watch her delightful hair shift about her shoulders, listen to that darling accent, and be perfectly content. (If not a bit regretful, missing his chance for a kiss.)]
A... a bard thing? I suppose so. [He brushes hair out of his face, leaning back in his chair as a faint wooziness runs through his head. Not uncomfortable, but it's altering his balance a bit.] It needn't be only one word. Plenty of musicians like picking up a separate name to represent themselves. And I have -- well, I have family attached to my name, and they are not part of my being a bard. [He leaves it at that, rubbing a few of his fingers together. Where he does, small yellow flowers appear, growing from nothing but the air of the Horizon. They braid together in a sort of crown, and he holds it out to her with a grin.] I named myself after these. I believe they're also called buttercups. Bright and terribly hard to get rid of. Exactly like me.
no subject
[Not that he's ever floated before -- on a river, perhaps, but that's about it. On water. This isn't quite like that. But the air? Certainly it could feel like this. A heaviness but a lightness all at once.
His eyes widen a bit as her lips so gracefully touch his. Like a kiss. Except he breathes in deeply, lost a bit in the floral scent that he's made. Gods. That's something else. Wait. Why is she leaning away? He was quite sure they were going to kiss, and he even leans over before tipping a bit, just managing to catch himself on his seat.]
Yes, right. Everything is okay. [Honestly, he's very sure he could sit here and watch her delightful hair shift about her shoulders, listen to that darling accent, and be perfectly content. (If not a bit regretful, missing his chance for a kiss.)]
A... a bard thing? I suppose so. [He brushes hair out of his face, leaning back in his chair as a faint wooziness runs through his head. Not uncomfortable, but it's altering his balance a bit.] It needn't be only one word. Plenty of musicians like picking up a separate name to represent themselves. And I have -- well, I have family attached to my name, and they are not part of my being a bard. [He leaves it at that, rubbing a few of his fingers together. Where he does, small yellow flowers appear, growing from nothing but the air of the Horizon. They braid together in a sort of crown, and he holds it out to her with a grin.] I named myself after these. I believe they're also called buttercups. Bright and terribly hard to get rid of. Exactly like me.
[It's a point of pride, thank you.]