out of my depth

Well, here was his chance — her voice calls from just behind him, and he starts so awkwardly that he stumbles just a bit on his way up to standing. Ah, what a fool he must look to her, but he simply hurries the crafted wreath behind his back and chases away the grass his coat and trousers have both collected with a charming urgency.

But who is he, if not a fool for her?

The dappled sunshine falls across her face like the most beautiful water color he has ever beheld, and it takes an embarrassingly long time to find his voice once more. With a shy murmur and callused hands, he settles the flowered ornament atop her rosy hair, and though it be a most inelegant crown, it was been born of a quiet and enduring affection that blooms a little more, each day, into love.

staff pls delete tungler user @arbousiier he’s making ME CRY WITH LOTTIE/FANG FEELS

[ Hello, hello! For all my new followers, hello and thank you. :> ]

[ I guess I will introduce myself a bit here? I like to go by Ban Ban on this blog! I’m coming back to Fang after a very long hiatus, and I’m excited to meet some new people and write with you lovely folk. Please feel free to poke me if you would care to plot something. I may put out a wee starter call sometime tonight or tomorrow just to gauge some interest. ]

Ah, her smile. His heart is quick to falter, tripping over the smooth curve of her lips and needing to skip a single time to find its rhythm once more, and only then do his legs obey his wish to close the narrow gap that stands between them. As he sits beside her, the bench creaks its lazy protest, but he could hardly pay it any mind. They are together seated in the sunshine, and he can think of few other places he would rather be than here.

“ Embroidery? ” he ventures softly, reaching out ever so cautiously and brushing a callused thumb over the edge of the handkerchief; he even risks the painful pang of the light against his eyes, catching a blurred glimpse of her handiwork. Anything beyond the abstract shapes escape him, but the uneven, clumsy thread he feels beneath his skin is almost hopelessly charming... and he cannot help but smile at her earnest efforts. Charlotte pours her utmost into everything she tries, and Fang feels nothing but admiration for her tenacious spirit.

Well, perhaps not only admiration.