[ fuck those cat pillows. maybe there's a way to make him say nyan if she squeezes Robin right. or whatever sound foxes make. ....what sound do they make....?
well it's twitching and it tickles her so Nero giggles, at first involuntarily. and then less so once she sees his face. then it's much more a loud, bright, deliberate cheer of laughter. let it infect him and make him smile too. come now Robin, smile. watch her do it - with the lips split from ear to ear so her small face has become nothing but one overwhelming bit of unfiltered, childlike happiness. ]
I may have it?!
[ fur might be more Iskander's taste, but! Nero pulls herself in closer to wrap his tail as far around her neck as it would go. so not quite a stole, and Nero not quite six inches away, but she's got it clamped to her neck with both hands and preens up into his face. ]
How does it look? Fitting, no?
[ it must be if he's blushing that much. ]
Such generosity you've hidden! And you've let others think you're a greedy bandit. To thank you, I shall name you my personal spymaster.
[ no sword comes down on his shoulder to confer the title, but her hand will do. and shortly followed by another hug - distinctly, closely, informal - swung around his shoulders. little more than an excuse to hold him tight again, and tap her brow against the hotness of his red cheeks. for what did a Servant need with a spymaster?
no subject
[ fuck those cat pillows. maybe there's a way to make him say nyan if she squeezes Robin right. or whatever sound foxes make. ....what sound do they make....?
well it's twitching and it tickles her so Nero giggles, at first involuntarily. and then less so once she sees his face. then it's much more a loud, bright, deliberate cheer of laughter. let it infect him and make him smile too. come now Robin, smile. watch her do it - with the lips split from ear to ear so her small face has become nothing but one overwhelming bit of unfiltered, childlike happiness. ]
I may have it?!
[ fur might be more Iskander's taste, but! Nero pulls herself in closer to wrap his tail as far around her neck as it would go. so not quite a stole, and Nero not quite six inches away, but she's got it clamped to her neck with both hands and preens up into his face. ]
How does it look? Fitting, no?
[ it must be if he's blushing that much. ]
Such generosity you've hidden! And you've let others think you're a greedy bandit. To thank you, I shall name you my personal spymaster.
[ no sword comes down on his shoulder to confer the title, but her hand will do. and shortly followed by another hug - distinctly, closely, informal - swung around his shoulders. little more than an excuse to hold him tight again, and tap her brow against the hotness of his red cheeks. for what did a Servant need with a spymaster?
...
well one could never be too careful.... ]