Nova laughed as realization crossed his features. When he gathered that she was just messing with him regarding the rules of the game. Her foremost tentacles curled near her jaw and she was still winning when he reached for his phone. Nova moved closer to Ixaaliot, holding the putter behind her back and out of the way so she could lean against him and peer at the screen. She giggled again, when her score was adjusted, most unfairly.
She liked winning. It didn’t always have to be fairly. Kreska was rubbing off on her, it seemed. That jaunty victory tone had her grinning all over again.
The bounce had reappeared in her step as they moved along to the next hole. Tentacles flared in rhythm with the sway of her hips. She was trying to ignore that he was acquiescing to her so easily, because she’d ruined a moment and they’d suffered through a brief tension. That was not to say, he was not normally lenient of her, but this time it had been paired with more frowning.
Nova waited for him on the platform that would take them to the next hole. Her tentacles spilled over her shoulders as her hands fiddled with the putter; fiddling with the rubber handle and swinging it back and forth.
“I think the windmill is next.” Her tone was joking, but her eyes narrowed suspiciously. A sly curl appeared at the corner of her mouth. “But I’m gonna get it this time.” Tentacles pooled and twisted against her chest as she stepped off the platform and sashayed to the hole.
She dropped her ball to the fake grass and stopped it from bouncing with the toe of her ballet flat. Convinced that the ball would stay in place she placed the putter in place, and leaned slightly into position. For a few moments, so only watched the windmill spin circles. There was an intensity in her gaze, that suggested she was calculating something. Tentacle still as she tapped the ball with just enough force to send it rolling along towards the windmill. Nova stood upright, excited, because for a moment it seemed her ball was wheeling right into the windmill, but it hit one of the shutters and bounced to the left. Defeated.
Nova’s expression fell and all of her tentacles curled up at once. Tight wheels at the base of neck and along her jaw. “That shouldn’t have happened.” Her tentacles wound impossibly tighter. “That shouldn’t have happened,” she repeated, with largely more emphases, she picked up her putter and clutched it with both of her hands.
She exhaled sharply from her nose, before she stomped down the aisle and towards the windmill without care or concern that she was close to throwing a tantrum in a public venue. Towering over the windmill, she stuck a foot out and stopped the shutters from revolving with her foot. She didn’t flinch despite the smacking noise that indicated that it should have hurt. She stared down at the decoration. Her tentacles fell all at once.
“It’s rigged,” she complained, one lip pushed forward in a pout as she turned and faced Ixaaliot again. The windmill struggled against her foot and was started to make concerning mechanical noises. Nova removed the blockade and it resumed spinning. “I’m going to talk to someone about this.”
She liked winning. It didn’t always have to be fairly. Kreska was rubbing off on her, it seemed. That jaunty victory tone had her grinning all over again.
The bounce had reappeared in her step as they moved along to the next hole. Tentacles flared in rhythm with the sway of her hips. She was trying to ignore that he was acquiescing to her so easily, because she’d ruined a moment and they’d suffered through a brief tension. That was not to say, he was not normally lenient of her, but this time it had been paired with more frowning.
Nova waited for him on the platform that would take them to the next hole. Her tentacles spilled over her shoulders as her hands fiddled with the putter; fiddling with the rubber handle and swinging it back and forth.
“I think the windmill is next.” Her tone was joking, but her eyes narrowed suspiciously. A sly curl appeared at the corner of her mouth. “But I’m gonna get it this time.” Tentacles pooled and twisted against her chest as she stepped off the platform and sashayed to the hole.
She dropped her ball to the fake grass and stopped it from bouncing with the toe of her ballet flat. Convinced that the ball would stay in place she placed the putter in place, and leaned slightly into position. For a few moments, so only watched the windmill spin circles. There was an intensity in her gaze, that suggested she was calculating something. Tentacle still as she tapped the ball with just enough force to send it rolling along towards the windmill. Nova stood upright, excited, because for a moment it seemed her ball was wheeling right into the windmill, but it hit one of the shutters and bounced to the left. Defeated.
Nova’s expression fell and all of her tentacles curled up at once. Tight wheels at the base of neck and along her jaw. “That shouldn’t have happened.” Her tentacles wound impossibly tighter. “That shouldn’t have happened,” she repeated, with largely more emphases, she picked up her putter and clutched it with both of her hands.
She exhaled sharply from her nose, before she stomped down the aisle and towards the windmill without care or concern that she was close to throwing a tantrum in a public venue. Towering over the windmill, she stuck a foot out and stopped the shutters from revolving with her foot. She didn’t flinch despite the smacking noise that indicated that it should have hurt. She stared down at the decoration. Her tentacles fell all at once.
“It’s rigged,” she complained, one lip pushed forward in a pout as she turned and faced Ixaaliot again. The windmill struggled against her foot and was started to make concerning mechanical noises. Nova removed the blockade and it resumed spinning. “I’m going to talk to someone about this.”
I fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) I want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true) and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you.
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