is this anything . sky:cotl au
details (aka my rambling) under the cut
mostly set upon the whole idea that caine came from eden and tries to help everyone gain their wings (albeit doing a terrible job the entire time)
bubble keeps the name bubble!
they r a mantatee :3 suprisingly chaotic for a light creature and sort of has the "eat light and puff out candles" personality that caine should have but doesn't
i contemplated caine being called "the creature" just for shits and giggles (and eventually went with it) since im absolutely certain everyone who ever meets him ever would be terrified for a little bit until they realize hes sentient; he doesn't understand that the name is supposed to be sort of derogatory
caine is the only one with wings because hes the only one who can canonically fly/float!
(and yes his head is supposed to be a dark plant . i like to think im big brain for this)
the reason why his dark plant head is tinted red btw . my thought process was basically "ah yes. red = good bcus eden :]" even though thats convoluted since everyone hates eden but that makes it better in a way. i think
zooble > mismatched worksmith
"bows" given to them by ragatha as an identifier; not like theyd need one though ..
constantly making their own prosthetics due to growing boredom with their previous ones (autism™) and also carved the designs into their mask themself
kinger > reluctant royalty
same old kinger as usual .. when asked what he rules he doesnt particularly remember nor have an answer so hes usually treated with respect out of pity for being old and senile
second tallest behind jax , also the oldest (if you dont count caine i guess? whos sort of. ageless)
ragatha > plush friendfinder
matching bow with jax :3 sibling moment! (yes i like the ragatha + jax sibling dynamic . its amazing to me)
right eye does not glow and actually looks like a hollow hole if you get close enough to her face! also clothing making buddies with zooble :] she taught them how to sew without pricking themself
gangle > wrapped up theatre-goer (i had such a hard time thinking of a name .. and to be honest?? im not solid on this but WHAGEVER.)
shortest. obviously
likes to write plays in her spare time and reads them to zooble while they work
clothes are sectioned and Very flowy, and has a few (cracked and broken) masks she likes to use for play improv (and also uses for herself sometimes if she has a hard time expressing a certain emotion)
jax > towering tease (it sounds stupid but THIS is so fucking funny.i cannot resist this)
tallest OBVIOUSLY. like stupidly tall . has its advantages and disadvantages (like being able to steal things from gangle with no consequences . on the other hand. doorframes)
him being tall and having that be the only thing hes got going for him is absolutely hilarious to me and im leaning into that hard
he has a tail also, but its small and not visible from the chart
pomni > jittery jester (i had to look up "other words for anxious" for this.my intelligence is showing)
pretty much the only one i referenced real in game clothing for, which sort of fits! protag moment
this was all i really had, since other established things like their personalities and relationships arent really changed much. but this was fun to think about :3 input is appreciated !
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what a pretty flower.
the single morning glory stands out, fresh spring sunlight accentuating its indigo hue, glimmering like a shooting star just behind the chain-link fence. in the peripheral of your vision, it almost seems to glow; solitary and ephemeral, as if coaxing you into stepping closer.
and you can’t resist its call.
suguru blinks, a little dazed, when he feels your hand slip from his. the warmth of your intertwined fingers follows closely behind, and the loss of contact leaves him feeling slightly vexed, replaced by the gentle chill of the air.
he doesn’t get an explanation, either. attention entirely fixed on that mesmerizing indigo blur, you don’t say a thing — and with an eager kind of giddiness, you skip over to the fence, ready to fish it out.
suguru just sighs, mildly amused.
it’s nothing out of the ordinary, really. if you see something that captures your attention, suguru has come to learn that you’ll drop just about anything to go get a closer look. does it exasperate him, ever so slightly? sure. the involuntary twitch of his fingers reveals as much, almost as if coaxing him into waltzing over and grabbing your hand again.
but suguru is a patient man. especially when it comes to you. and, above all else — any habit of yours is endearing to him, even ones that include you leaving his side for a moment or two.
so he simply watches over you from afar, knowing you’ll return on your own; with your jacket tucked between his arm and his torso, a can of cold, too-sweet coffee in hand. suguru hasn’t put his lips on the aluminium in about five minutes, saving whatever’s left for the inevitable moment you start whining for just one tiny sip, please?
(he’ll roll his eyes, and tell you not to drink yours so quickly next time, but still hand it to you with a smile he’ll make sure you don’t see.)
suguru’s gaze is unspeakably fond, as he idly admires how the sunshine wraps you in its embrace. you almost seem to sparkle, in his vision, like a butterfly dancing in the wind — fluttering just barely out of reach, too fragile to touch. too beautiful to sully with human hands. maybe it's a tad dramatic, but suguru couldn't care less.
the air is warm, full of life. cicadas chirp from afar. within his veins, his blood buzzes with joy and cheap caffeine, and everything smells like spring. like something new, something delightful. something that makes him think of you.
suguru watches as you crouch down, watches how your nimble fingers struggle to fit through the narrow gaps of the chain-link fence. he can’t see the little frown that tugs at your lips, and he can’t hear your little muttered grumbles — but he can somehow feel your frustration, all the same. something about the way you ducked your head just now, the way your fingers tap against your bended knee.
but then, finally, your valiant efforts bear fruit. with a number of failed attempts that you’d rather not mention, you manage to pluck the small flower, bringing it to your side of the fence without too much of a fuss. suguru doesn’t have to see your face to know that your eyes must be bright, lips curled up into a victorious smile. one that always makes him feel a little weak in the knees.
dusting pollen and tiny pieces of grass off your knees, you stand up straight, wasting no time in turning on your heel and making your way back to his side — with the precious morning glory in tow.
suguru waits, patiently, for you to return to him.
when you do, he doesn’t even get a chance to speak; you part your lips before he can give you the usual raise of his eyebrow, soft tilt of his head, teasing inquiry of did you see something nice, sweetheart? all he can do is lean a little closer, making sure he hears every word your lovely voice graces him with. seeking the feeling of your breath against his skin, the warmth of your body when it’s tucked into his side.
(but he can’t get too greedy. so suguru keeps his distance, eyes rich with affection, looking at you like you’re the first flower blooming out of spring.)
and you speak, nearly bouncing on the balls of your feet, eyes shining with something giddy and honeyed — all too eager to see your idea through, the idea that crossed your mind the moment you laid eyes on the little flower.
”suguru,” you smile, sweet and excited. ”lean down.”
a blink, and a questioning look sent your way. your boyfriend shoots you a lazy smile, paired with a raise of his eyebrow that you’ve come to associate with him and his love.
despite the vague confusion painted on his features, suguru obeys your command without hesitation. always so willing to indulge you. he bends forward, compliantly, until he’s at eye level with you — face just a little too close for comfort, dark hazel eyes staring into yours in a way he knows flusters you terribly.
the butterflies in your stomach erupt at the intimate proximity, wings tickling your ribcage like soft petals sputtering after being rooted up from the ground — but you don’t allow yourself to falter.
(it’s a little tough, though. he looks so pretty, with the spring breeze caressing his cheek, soft streaks of sunlight falling over the contours of his handsome face. so, so pretty.
but there’s something that would make him look even prettier.)
so, with a gentleness that never fails to have suguru’s heartbeat hitching in his throat, your palm goes to smooth along his jaw. his eyes never leave your face, gazing intently at the way you press your lips together in concentration, barely resisting the urge to lean forward and kiss you. patient, as he waits for you to be finished.
it’s a tender motion: the pads of your fingers against his sunkissed skin, tucking the little flower behind his ear, its stem resting between his soft, silky locks. the indigo colour blends together well with his black hair, like a shooting star blooming in the night sky.
you lean back to admire your work.
”hmmm...”
suguru bites back a chuckle, at the intense contemplation etched onto your features. seemingly very deep in thought, you furrow your brows and absentmindedly stroke your chin — studying him with a serious expression, a tilt of your head and narrowed eyes, as if you’re an art dealer examining a painting on display.
(you’re so silly, he thinks. the thought is positively overflowing with fondness.)
finally, you seem to reach some kind of conclusion; and your eyes soften, crumbling a little at the corners, painted over with something suguru can’t quite place. whatever it is, he suddenly finds it a little harder to breathe — all that love crammed into the confines of his chest, clogging up his throat. your eyes crinkle when you smile, oh so sweetly, burrowing your way deeper into his heart.
(you’re already in so deep he doubts he could ever dig you out.)
”yeah,” you exhale, a little breathless. still admiring how pretty he looks, with the morning glory in his hair. like a princess, your princess.
your pretty, pretty boy.
a smile rests on your lips, laced with adoration. suguru feels his heartbeat pick up with a jolt, and he somehow doubts it’s just the caffeine; the sensation only deepens when your smile shifts in the light, melting into a soft grin.
”purple suits you best.”
suguru blinks. giving him no time to respond, you turn on your heel and continue walking, expecting him to follow. thoroughly satisfied after seeing your sudden objective through to the end — he looks just as pretty as you knew he would.
but suguru has to take a moment to simply watch, as you skip on ahead. always excited and off in your own world. the sun personified, he often thinks, peeking out after a rainshower, shining as you please. bringing light and warmth wherever you go.
maybe he would feel embarrassed, if he was another person. someone more insecure in their masculinity, less in love with you.
fortunately, that is not the case. suguru lifts a hand to stroke the flower, delicately, careful so it doesn’t loosen and flutter away with the wind. his heart feels warm. cheap caffeine and sweet thoughts rushing through his veins.
”— suguru?”
his gaze flits up to meet yours, where you stand a little further ahead, confused eyes looking into his own. a little tilt of your head is all it takes for him to move; catching up to you in long strides, a smile on his face.
”sorry. got lost in thought.”
you take his hand in yours, fingers intertwining with his own, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. as if your hands belong together. his smile widens.
”don’t like it?” you ask, nodding vaguely in the direction of the morning glory. suguru squeezes your hand reassuringly.
”not at all. thank you, baby,” he soothes, a teasing tilt to his smile. eyes hopelessly softened. ”does it look good on me?”
a little chuckle flows from your lips. breathing out a silent response — don’t ask me questions you already know the answers to. but you opt to indulge him, all the same, turning towards him with an affectionate gaze. ”of course,” you coo. ”you’re the prettiest.”
suguru can’t bite back the soft grin that blooms on his lips, and he wonders if you notice the red hue crawling up his neck — faint, but awfully telling. to distract you from it, recognizing a glint of familiar mischief in your eyes, he reaches a hand out to pull your cheek. gently, not enough to hurt you.
the little wince that escapes you tugs at his heartstrings, though, even though he knows you’re just being dramatic to make him feel bad. he can only hope the teasing smile he sends your way will be enough to fluster you, his eyes smoothed over with a deep sincerity.
”you’re one to talk.”
it takes a second or two for his words to sink in. and he can pinpoint the exact instant that they do, from the way you avert your gaze, swiftly, face heating up adorably. suguru stifles a coo.
a little huff leaves your lips, vaguely embarrassed — muttering something unintelligible under your breath. you let go of his hand and take a couple long steps forward, to avoid his teasing gaze.
suguru follows behind, dutifully, with a fond chuckle. it scatters away in the spring breeze, dancing up into the blue of the sky, caressing the morning glory in his hair.
he takes your hand in his, once more.
you don’t let go.
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