#desafia

'i th - thought you might like th - this one . . .' naturally anxious hands held out the book to magnolia, shy and soft smile settling onto his mouth. 'it's a classic, it's . . . it has it's s - sad parts, but it's worth the read, i promise,' @desafia.

@desafia sent 📷 for 3 - 5 pictures kit has of magnolia.

gentle touch against his skin immediately makes kit’s shoulders drop, releasing a tension he doesn't even realize he's holding. he leans his face slightly into the warmth of magnolia's palms, a weary exhale escaping his lips. with his own hands still a bit stained from cedar oil and dark varnish, he moves carefully, lifting his arms so he doesn't accidentally get anything on her. he covers her wrists gently with his fingers, tracking the shape of her hands before sliding one of his hands down to carefully sign back to her, his movements slow, deliberate, and full of reverence. < i'm here. i'm okay. just a long day at the shop. > he gives her a smile and tilts his head, chocolate brown eyes searching hers through thick tortoise shell glasses. he shifts his hand slightly to touch the side of her wrist, signing a soft afterthought, < did you eat yet? I can put the kettle on and make us something. > @desafia.

it's not ideal. in fact, it's a display of weakness — magnolia ducks against cara's side and grabs hold of her hand as the angry aqualish confronts them. he's grumbling in a language cara doesn't understand, but given the fervent tone, his squinting eyes, and the stares from other patrons in the cantina, he must be pissed. did magnolia set him off? did she make a mistake, bump into him, and that's got him drunkenly complaining at her? whatever the case, cara doesn't back down — she uses the bulk of her muscled form to weasel in between the aqualish and magnolia, protecting her from his ire. "get lost," she scoffs, a hand on her blaster. "we don't want any problems." she can hear the bartender shouting in their direction (probably trying to prevent a fight, avoid the messy clean-up), but the shock trooper ignores him. her furrowed brows face the aqualish head-on, magnolia safely hidden behind her. "can someone tell this guy to back off?" she looks around at the staring bar patrons. "anyone? someone that speaks aqualish — let him know he's barking up the wrong tree." if she has to fight her way out of this cantina with magnolia by her side, she will... although it still worries her. they're outnumbered. if someone could just calm the guy down...

nights have become warm with the encroaching spring, and palomo found himself self more and more wanting to be outdoors. the sun could not touch him for fear that others would lay eyes upon his monstrous form, but the evening had always been his friend. as quietly as he could, he picked up the fallen over fence around the complex and planted it back into the earth with no struggle, kicking some of the dirt back around the wood to keep it upright. he pulled several weeds from the ground to keep the yard clean, checking the flowers for health and life. when magnolia approached, the creature gave her a grin, only slightly surprised when she yanked at his jacket, silently asking him to bend down. palomo obliged, eyes meeting magnolia's before she leaned forward and pecked him on his nose. surprise washed over him, for a moment, before his smile grew bigger, gaze moving over her features with fondness. 'would you like to join me?' he questioned, standing back to his regular height and gesturing toward the top of the complex. 'i was on my way up to the roof,' @desafia.

knife in his hand halts against the chocolate tomatoes on his cutting board, the man taking a moment to grin a bit before he glances toward magnolia. she's stationed herself onto one of his kitchen counters, and though normally he would be strictly against having anyone in his cooking area, let alone sitting on the pristine marble top, he'd decided to make an exception for her. it was a rare feat when he didn't, these days. 'not in the literal sense, no,' hannibal answers after a moment, returning to his careful slicing of vegetables that he'd prepare them for dinner. 'do i believe some might have metaphorical ghosts absorbing the spaces in their minds they so desperately want to reach? i suppose so. though, in my profession, we refer to these more as illnesses than spirits,' @desafia.

'really? nothing at all?' joanna found that hard to believe. more than that, if it was true, she was envious, green with how much she wished she didn't fear a damn thing. jo rests her chin on her knuckles, leaning in a bit closer to magnolia as she speaks. 'not even being alone forever? never finding the one person who could . . . fix you?' blue eyes glisten a bit, as if she might cry. 'that's my biggest fear - never being loved like i deserve,' @desafia.