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[ironside_pixie]

You know what's difficult, climbing a tree without Pixie grace. Kaye doesn't even notice the water droplets (fallen from leaves) that spatter down the back of her neck, she has to concentrate. Kick an old boot into a knot on the bark and pull with dirty hands, pull upwards, just don't let go.

It's her second attempt.

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[ironside_pixie]

Her feet flounder, scrabbling uselessly at the knot, slipped in surprise. Her arms give up the ghost a few minutes later and she drops heavily to the ground with a muffled - and none too polite - curse.

"I wouldn't have, no." She narrows her eyes at him, looking positively furious.

[ironside_pixie]

"You need to change your expectations." Kaye says dryly, with just a hint of an awkward blush. Annoyance in response to his gentle teasing because she doesn't feel right in her own skin.

He's never called her on her swearing before. Sometimes she forgets he was used to courtly manners (once upon a time). She doesn't smile back though she can feel the corners of her mouth attempt to tug upwards in response to his. Traitors.

"No." She glares at the small scratch on her hand (barely any blood) - snagged on an errant and surprisingly sharp offshoot of the tree - after a seconds consideration she sticks it in her mouth, sucking on the injury.

It tastes of dirt and blood; a flavor that's no longer pleasant.

[ironside_pixie]

She looks away when he takes her hand and she can't fathom why, or how she is even able to. It beats deep within her, a pounding desire that haunts her with every squeeze of her heart. She can't help but be terrified about how fake it might all be, how ready to crumble. Tangled legs in a Booth and broad smiles. It's the Faerie way to never mean what you say.

"You'd get around in Ironside easier." She says, a hint of lightness invading her words; unamused eyes don't match when she turns her face back and she holds her hand against the center of her chest, like she had his once. Her heart beating feels terribly bold.

"But you'd probably get hit on a lot more." The smile comes then, a twitching, vapid thing that is half-grimace. She doesn't know why.

She worries that love isn't enough. This is enough, just now. Trading barbed words and hoping for the slightest touch.

[ironside_pixie]

She bends her legs under her - the ground is cold but it doesn't matter - hands brushing dirt from very ordinary jeans.

A letter to me? The mention of it surprises her and she would say so, but other thoughts crowd in until she's forced to ask only one thing.

"What have you been considering?" A brief pause, her head is starting to spin. Intrigue and emotion and things she can't make sense of. She feels tired, not wild and free.

"And what would the letter say?" She hardly notices her speech becoming more proper, mimicking his.

[ironside_pixie]

She would. She knows she would. Just as she knows he wouldn't let her. It's too dangerous. She's too unskilled. She's not even a pixie anymore. It was a silly thought and quickly banished.

Kaye exhales slowly, merely listening.

The corners of her mouth twitch, suddenly. As fae as if she still was: "Dearest Roiben --" She forms a reply to an unsent letter, dipping her head in concentration.

"-- things are as unpredictable as ever here. I put on my ass-kicking boots, found Styx and all is well. I'm certain she'll be badly bruised and has taken back any and all promises. So when you come back you can snog me madly even while I'm green.

See you soon, Kaye."

She blushes at that, but most certainly doesn't laugh, feigning boldness. She seems to be doing that a lot lately.

"I've got a plan."

[ironside_pixie]

She raises a finger, truly astounded at his words. Nothing emerges from slightly open lips, nothing but a small laugh - almost a giggle. Were it on anyone but her that would be the word used.

Well if the Brits could use such expressions, so could she. Gosh darn it! >.>

"Roiben, Eggshells and I have not had much luck. Pretty sure I'm not one though, so things should be fine. I'm confident that you could manage to get most of the pieces in the right place anyway."

Kaye waves a hand in the air vaguely, as if dictating to some imaginary scribe, kicks her legs out to stretch in a very relaxed manner.

"In response to your question --" She looks very serious now, certain that he should be given the proper explanation. "-- I shall demonstrate when you return. Yours, Kaye."

[ironside_pixie]

She's really not complaining. In fact she may shuffle slightly closer in turn, the side of her body pressed to the side of his, shoulder to shoulder.

She can't help but think of Peter Pan. Of kisses and the giving of kisses; named something else for comforts sake.

Roiben was forced to grow up too quickly, light swallowed by darkening shadows; he deserved better, she thinks. But that smile, bright as a boy's, tells otherwise. You'd think he'd never seen a single bit of pain. It's a smile to live for.

"Indeed, Sire." She mocks, lip pulled in slightly to prevent a wider grin. "It's a beauteous thing." Underneath the teasing her words slip into softness and despite the hammering of her heart she leans in further and presses her lips to his.

A thimble. A snog. A kiss. What did the name matter, when she felt like she could fly.