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+---- Thread: tryna get my Usher on but I can't let it burn (/showthread.php?tid=11928)
RE: tryna get my Usher on but I can't let it burn - Flora - 08-20-2025
Flora swallows the first answer that rises in the back of her throat in response to his wanting to try staying awake—something shameless about other, better ways to keep him awake aside from ghost stories—and lets it melt into a grin instead. [say]"LongNight’s coming,"[/say] she says. [say]"Torchline throws a week-long party. If you want to test the limits of sleeplessness, you could always try and stay awake all week."[/say] Y'know, since he'd be here, which is something Flora hasn't quite wrapped her head around.
Her gaze drifts over him under the safe cover of teasing, sly affection stitched into the corners of her smile. [say]"Mmmm, you’ve gotten a little thin since moving out on your own,"[/say] she observes, faux-prim, tapping his bicep with two fingers as if measuring a fruit's ripeness and finding it lacking. [say]"And you need a haircut."[/say] When he leans in, though, she goes still, breath snagging, eyes tracking the angle of him—then his fingertip flicks up and brushes the end of her nose. Relief rushes through her so fast it almost startles her, gratitude for the curtain of curls that still hides the bruise at her throat
[say]"You still ate every pancake,"[/say] she adds, the words softening at the edges as the memory of butter and burnt chocolate ghosts her tongue. Normally, this is where she'd raise a brow and nudge his side, challenging him to cook for her to prove it, but the dare dissolves in her mouth like sugar in hot tea, and she lets it go, tasting sweetness and restraint both while the breeze lifts jasmine from her cardigan and sugar from the stalls.
Kaisel's outrage about height spins him toward her but she keeps her chin high, eyes forward, the portrait of innocence, while the crowd eddies warm around them. She watches his demonstration with exaggerated gravity, then lifts her hand and marks the gap he’s bragging about—four inches, maybe—holding her fingers up between them with a wrinkle of her nose. [say]"You think that’s a lot?"[/say] she asks, widening her eyes into something saccarine that fools absolutely no one. [say]"I know Sunjata is my step-dad, but I’ve never met a single girl who sees how tall he is and doesn’t want to climb him like a tree."[/say] She turns that innocent, placating look back on Kaisel as if he’s the one being unreasonable, all sweetness at the edges and mischief in the middle. [say]"But he's like, super tall. I was more just meaning regular tall."[/say]
And as they go, to anyone watching, it might look like the pair are just wandering, but they aren't. Flora isn't, anyway. Every turn is a quiet stitch toward the coral-washed lane where her old door hides behind a tangle of hibiscus. The last time Kaisel had been there, the city was blue and lamplit, so she doesn't expect him necessarily to notice where they're going. Not with the sun bleaching the walkways and her laughter and teasing baiting his focus.
RE: tryna get my Usher on but I can't let it burn - Kaisel - 08-20-2025
[say]"A LongNight rager?"[/say] he simpers at the idea, never one to shy from a celebration, but a week long sounds like the sort to give you the forever sleep. [say]"What, all the body heat keeps everyone warm for the season, is that the plan?"[/say] He glances sidelong at her, trying to ascertain if this is the sort of party he could find her at, never having quite been able to keep track of her at any of the others.
He's acutely aware of the position of her gaze as it marks portions of him, requiring a certain tilt of his head, as though he means to offer her the best angle for consideration. Though Flora has always been willing to look, it's usually doctored with a sly tease, or so he'd always thought. He's never had much practice withstanding it in earnest, not even this imitation of it. It slows his breath for a moment, especially as her hand finds the curve of his arm, wrist curling into an unsubtle flex that doesn't seem to alter his grade one bit.
[say]"It's from all the running around,"[/say] he says with a lazy smile shoved back into place, undoing some of the pause that tried to falter his stride. [say]"Ghosts to pulverize, toads to vanquish, and so many chores. I swear, everyone has fucking digging projects. I think half of Caido has it out for the ground."[/say] The humor is laid out like something so practiced it's easy, second nature instead of the reality of being truly on his own for the first time ever. Her's is perhaps the first keen eye that's found the edges of him that have started to become rougher with lack of care.
His name rouses a satisfied chuckle, and this is where he would have looped his arm around her shoulder and tugged her closer to him, affection finding it's way into every footfall. Instead he cuts her a glance, the edges of his triumphant smirk gentling into the sweep of a quiet smile, content just to have her beside him in a way that doesn't feel as cold as before.
At least, he did, until she started measuring. Four inches can be a lot, Flora.
His eyebrows shoulder most of the work as his face falters into utter dismay over her estimations. [say]"This is regular tall!"[/say] He voice rises with an undesirable pitch and he runs an impatient hand through his hair with a grumble. [say]"Never getting something off a shelf you can't reach again,"[/say] he mutters, a full on liar. His hands gesture out in front of him after a pause, what had seemed put to bed resurfacing abruptly. [say]"Besides, it's not the height that matters, it's the man."[/say] Not that he wanted to keep talking about her step-dad, the sex icon, but height only had a fraction to do with his appeal, Kaisel is certain.
RE: tryna get my Usher on but I can't let it burn - Flora - 08-21-2025
Flora chuckles at the word rager, the sound bright and amused. [say]"This is still Torchline"[/say] she reminds him, [say]" even in Deepfrost it doesn't get properly cold. But we do light bonfires all up and down the beach, and everyone just takes it as a week off to relax, or get drunk."[/say] She grins, a sliver of warmth flashing through. [say]"LongNight used to be right before monsoon season hit us, back before Safrin protected the coastlines. So it was kind of our last chance to let loose before everything got soaked and half your shit floated away."[/say]
Her eyes narrow affectionately at his continued self-mythologizing, head tilting as if she’s assessing him for proof of survival and not quite finding it. [say]"Don’t forget to add dragon rider,"[/say] she says dryly, rolling her eyes, her expression clearly spelling out liar, liar, pants on fire.
As Kaisel continues to flail about his height, Flora snickers, not bothering to mask the amusement laced through the sound, and as he leans dramatically into the manhood bit, she throws a glance over her shoulder, all slyness and teeth. [say]"Mmhmm,"[/say] she hums, circling back toward him just enough to reach up and pat his cheek. Her hand lingers for the briefest second, just long enough to make sure it’ll irritate him. [say]"Still so smooth,"[/say] she notes, solemn and sweet. [say]"How about this. One day, when you’re a man, I’ll let you know if I notice a difference."[/say]
RE: tryna get my Usher on but I can't let it burn - Kaisel - 08-21-2025
His fingers snap excitedly at the added label. [say]"Gods, you're so right, how could I forget that one!"[/say] He looks over at her as the amusement rolls like a breeze between them, scarily normal. The eye roll he's earned feels like comfort at this point after the number of times he's gotten to see her wear it, and he can't quite keep out the lightening in his chest for it's return, like that more than anything is a weight off his mind. [say]"Bet I could get another ride,"[/say] he beams, gaze not dropping, trusting in the shift of her stride to guide his. [say]"Maybe even race the Sugar Tide through a pod of sky whales."[/say] His smile eases, less about teasing now than wistful thinking about old plans being turned into new, all things he still wanted to do with her, meant to. Means to.
He hesitates as she reaches out for him, not because he'd withdraw, but because he's afraid she will if he does anything wrong. His humor trips into a held breath, amber fixing on aqua and holding fast. The risk of drowning in her gaze is nearly the same as in his kitchen sink though as all she offers is a rude cheek pat, another playful jab offered to hide the risk of anything softer. His head rears back from her hand even as it starts to fall away, mock offense sketching overtop his quiet hope as a scoff drags free like tires on gravel, long and rough with the disapproval. [say]"Funny, don't remember hearing any complaints from you before,"[/say] he flicks a meaningful glance her way as he rubs absently at his chin. [say]"If you're offering to try again though...I'll hold you to it."[/say] She'd wanted him to gush about their night together, but he's more interested in making her gush again, and again, and again.
He laughs lightly, as if he only means it in jest, even if the slow pull of his eyes off her suggests otherwise. [say]"So I was thinking we could get lunch?"[/say] he offers instead, a bit more tame.
RE: tryna get my Usher on but I can't let it burn - Flora - 08-21-2025
Flora snorts, eyes rolling with theatrical exaggeration as she mutters beneath her breath, [say]"Weird. Almost like it wasn’t a thing that actually happened."[/say] Her curls bounce as she flicks him a flat, sarcastic look over her shoulder. [say]"Oh yeah, for sure. You and your imaginary dragon can absolutely race the Sugartide. I’ll even let you almost win."[/say]
But his gaze catches hers just as she’s withdrawing from the cheek pat, and it hits her like the flick of a match in dry grass. She’s already half-laughing at his quip, all light and teeth, when the way he looks at her makes her breath hitch just enough to give her away. Her mind does what it always does around him, tugged sideways into memory: the low rumble of his voice against her skin, the tug of his hands against her hips followed by the wall cool behind her back, the hard line of his mouth when she’d gasped his name like it had always belonged to her. The flush that creeps up her cheeks is soft but unmistakable, pink blooming like dawn over her cheekbones.
And still. Still. She tips her chin up with that familiar brand of defiance that never learned how to back down or let a closing remark go without her lips around it, aqua eyes glinting as she purrs, [say]"Guess I’ll have to be more vocal with my thoughts next time."[/say] Then, as if that hadn’t just left her own pulse skipping rope, she shrugs easily. [say]"Lunch sounds good,"[/say] she says, casual as anything, and starts walking again like she hadn’t just set the air between them humming. [say]"But we need to make one stop first."[/say]
The streets wind gently beneath her feet, and when the corner turns and her little townhouse edges into view—whitewashed walls, ocean-worn trim, the faint outline of the porch swing she never used—Flora doesn’t slow. She strides to the bush out front, fingers deftly plucking the spare key from its hiding place like it hadn’t been done a dozen times before. Turning, she holds it out to him, not quite meeting his gaze. Her voice is steady, but softer than before as she clears her throat. [say]"You can go back to the cat-pee-and-serial-killer-landlord apartment if you want,"[/say] she says, attempting nonchalance. [say]"But…"[/say]
She glances back at the house, at the life she left crumpled on its doorstep and shrugs; when she finally meets his eyes again, the look she gives him is quieter than usual—still Flora, still sure, but with something newly shy swimming just beneath the surface of aqua blue.
RE: tryna get my Usher on but I can't let it burn - Kaisel - 08-21-2025
He doesn't miss the way next time lands, and the promise of being more vocal sets his gaze molten for a moment. He'd expected the idea to send her skittering back, like the water she's dipping a toe in is too warm against the chill that's still deep in her, but maybe he'd misjudged how much she'd already begun to thaw. Could it truly be so simple as just being here with her? He'd expected grand gestures to prove himself, barely even able to convince her he'd ridden a dragon much less loves her enough to bury all the hurt she'd gardened in his absence.
He also knows she doesn't back down. He's found himself annoyingly admitting to surrender just to keep the both of them from jumping into insanity before, but that'd been when he'd aimed for restraint. Now, she's untied him with everything she said at the flower fields, giving life to feelings he thought could only be fanciful. Now, he wants to see just how far they can climb up their threats, just how deep jumping overboard into madness with her could be. [say]"I look forward to it,"[/say] is all he murmurs out of the corner of his mouth, but it's low and rough with the echo of memory.
He didn't expect the relief that comes when she agrees to lunch, like he's still bracing for the thistles of her pain to be set back down between them whenever he drifts too close. His 'brow arches up with curiosity though, and perhaps this is the path to the briar patch. [say]"What?"[/say] he wonders, tempted by her secret, but keeps step with her regardless. Meanwhile he pilfers through a list of what sounds good to eat, trying to ignore the way Flora keeps trying to jump to the top.
His gaze lights up with recognition as they finally stand before her home, almost ominous as it sits like a reminder of where lines began to blur. She holds out the key, and he glances down at it for a moment, like Frodo about to accept the Ring, aware of the weight and the power contained in something so small. Suddenly being prickled by thorns doesn't seem to matter very much to him at all, maybe figures they're all in his head anyway, because he rushes in to pick her up in a hug and swing her around once, laughter bright and easy. [say]"WHAT! Ro, that's amazing!"[/say] He crows as he sets her down, pecking at the key like a shiny treasure he intends to keep. He presses a kiss to it before holding it up to the house with one eye squinted shut. [say]"I didn't think you meant it, but hell yeah, I'd much rather live here."[/say]
RE: tryna get my Usher on but I can't let it burn - Flora - 08-21-2025
Flora doesn’t flinch; she never has, and certainly not from Kaisel, nor his boisterous brand of affection. But as he sweeps her up, her breath catches sharp and audible against his ear, a soft gasp dragged from her ribs as instinct yanks her arms around his shoulders for balance. It’s not fear that tightens her body, but the headrush of being pressed so suddenly against someone she was trying very hard to keep at arm's length. The scent of him fills her lungs like a match lighting old paper, and the feel of his laugh against her ribs sends her stomach chasing itself in dizzy little circles.
She doesn’t speak right away when her feet touch the ground again. Instead, she lifts a hand to her curls, dragging her fingers through them to pull them back from her face, trying to compose herself even as colour floods her cheeks. Her chest rises in a slow exhale, one hand curling briefly in the hem of her cardigan before falling away again.
[say]"Of course I meant it,"[/say] she says softly, as if anything else would be absurd.
Her eyes don’t quite meet his, at least not right away, flicking briefly past him to the door before glancing down at the key still held between his fingers like it’s sacred. [say]"Some of my stuff’s still inside,"[/say] she adds, tone breezy but not casual, each word carefully placed. [say]"I haven’t moved it all yet because my new place isn't quite done, but—"[/say] her voice dips just enough to make it an offering, not a joke [say]"— yeah, it’s yours. If you want it."[/say]
RE: tryna get my Usher on but I can't let it burn - Kaisel - 08-21-2025
There are few sights that can compare to seeing Flora Grace Kaito-Taliesin flushed, since she is prone to being the instigator, in his experience, she is not normally the one left in such a state. It doesn't evade his notice, out of focus as it is behind the edge of the key that he peers through to see the small image of her home, now his home, framed around the metal. He doesn't hesitate, swinging his backpack around to unhook the keychain she'd gotten him from the zipper, a far more important job required of it now. He threads the key onto it—two very small things that carry such momentous meaning for him it's a wonder he can manage to hold them in his hand at all.
His attention fully returns to her, something steadier than want in the way he looks at her now. [say]"Thank you, Ro,"[/say] and the gratitude there is thick despite the gentle way it slips out. His smile flutters in, lopsided and shy. [say]"That's for the best, I actually can fit everything in my backpack."[/say] Last time, when she'd offered him the Sugar Tide, and he balked at the lack of space for him and his posters, he'd truly had nothing that he needed to bring aboard. He wishes he'd just jumped then, instead of hesitating, but he'd been stupid enough to still think he'd keep her as just a friend and smart (?) enough to know moving in with her would absolutely have shattered that, illusion or reality. [say]"Y'know, I regret not moving into the Sugar Tide with you,"[/say] he admits with a sigh, gaze dropping back to the key he curls in his hand. His thumb traces over the sealed stone from Stormbreak, his lips twitching with the tug in his chest. [say]"I've never considered myself a coward, but...I wish I'd been braver then."[/say] His gaze lifts, fitting back on her like it never means to stray.
[say]"Any house rules?"[/say] he says with a tilt to his head, already intending to leave Enzo's room untouched, and to overall make as little impact as possible. If anything, preserving the innate Flora-ness of it all will probably be the only thing that makes it feel less empty than the place he picked up in King's End, and far cheaper than renting the expensive rooms at House of Midnight just to get a feel of her again.
RE: tryna get my Usher on but I can't let it burn - Flora - 08-21-2025
Flora’s aqua eyes are bluer than they have any right to be, deepened by the heat still colouring her cheeks and the way she glances at Kaisel out of the corner of her eye. [say]"You're welcome,"[/say] she murmurs with a crooked little shrug, her smile threatening to run off at the mouth as she bites the inside of her cheek to rein it back in. It’s a losing battle; affection’s already blooming between her ribs like something spring-green and stubborn.
When he brings up the Sugartide, her lips part but nothing quite makes it past the catch in her throat. It’s not a thought she’s ever let herself follow, not fully. That particular what if. But now it plays out in her mind anyway, unspooling in the silence: the two of them squabbling while hangry, both staring at a pot of water to boil, sending Spice in to freeze him out of the shower if he took too long, playing every game she owned, and then making up new ones every night, taking the madeup rules far too seriously. They'd have likely managed to stay platonic for days at the most, a week at the outside, and gods, what would they even be now?
Happy. Whatever it had led to, she's sure they would have been happy.
Her eyes follow the movement of his hands—gentle, reverent over the Stormbreak stone—and she remembers, vividly, what they felt like on her skin. The memory catches her off-guard enough that when he calls himself a coward, she steps forward before thinking, shrinking the space between them like it’s her right to do so; like she's the only one who gets to call him names.
[say]"You’re not a coward,"[/say] she says, tone low but sure. [say]"I was scared to move onto it too."[/say] Then, with a huff of laughter under her breath, she tips her head and adds, [say]"Smart of you to be scared, honestly. I’m terrifying. And Spice has claws, so..."[/say] The humour settles the weight between them, and she lets it soften her posture again. [say]"Besides, we’d have ended up like...five pounds heavier, easy. You cooking breakfast every morning?"[/say] There'd have been sprinkles on everything, and she wouldn't have stood a chance.
When he asks about house rules, Flora shakes her head. [say]"Enzo gave me the idea, actually,"[/say] she says, tucking a curl behind one ear and looking toward the door. [say]"At my dad’s anniversary party. Said it was time I moved on from here."[/say] She shrugs, then glances back with a smirk pulling at her mouth. [say]"So yeah. No rules. Except maybe…no dragons. Spice would get super jealous."[/say]
RE: tryna get my Usher on but I can't let it burn - Kaisel - 08-21-2025
Seems his wish on the star had been depending on him as much as her all this time.
The way she moves into the space that remains means more to him than anything else today, even the key. He's tempted to reach for her, tug her the rest of the way, hold her for more than a spin. He can't tell if it's cowardice or intelligence that keeps him rooted instead, choosing not to interrupt her words by stepping on a potential landmine.
Her assurance, so certain and gentle, laid out in full honesty without a buffer of humor, drags his smile higher. That the usual teasing follows suit is fine, because she still handed him that, and he'll hold onto it same as all the other gilded memories he's stockpiled with her name scrawled over them. [say]"Yeah, I know you're scary, especially when I mercilessly beat you at games, which would have happened every night. Your mood would have been insufferable,"[/say] he grins, well aware, as she is, that there's hardly truth to it. Namely because in no world would he be able to beat her every night, and because he can suffer many if not most of her moods, though he's positive he has not met them all.
[say]"I dunnooooo,"[/say] he drawls thoughtfully, [say]"bet you would have made us go running all the time."[/say] He pulls a face, speaking to his preference on that form of exercise. [say]"Or at least made us climb your mast constantly if we were too airborne to run."[/say] Multiple masts come to mind in that regard, and his eyes can't help but hover on the curve of her mouth for longer than acceptable.
A huff of amusement slips free as he flicks a glance towards Spice. [say]"So is that you admitting I did ride a dragon and you're afraid I might bring it here?"[/say] He's all mischief as his eyes return to her, an I told you so loaded up in the lines of the look. [say]"Got it, no dragons,"[/say] he confirms.
[say]"I could hit up the markets real fast and make us something here?"[/say] he offers after a moment of thought, an attempt to try what he'd been too scared to do before—be with her.
RE: tryna get my Usher on but I can't let it burn - Flora - 08-21-2025
[say]"Uhm, it's only because of your face that my mood is insufferable."[/say] Flora shoots back, rolling her eyes as if the answer’s obvious and his grin is the worst thing she’s ever had to endure. [say]"Ruins a whole day."[/say] The grin tugging at her own mouth tells a different story, of course—one that’s been rewritten and reread so many times she can’t quite remember where the original line between them even was.
At the suggestion of running, she nods firmly. [say]"Absolutely would’ve made you run. Your endurance is trash."[/say] But the second airborne leaves his mouth, lips part, [say]"lots of other ways to exercise airborne,"[/say] she blurts before she can stop herself, the implication hitting just as his gaze drops to her mouth. A jolt ripples down her spine like lightning finding the nearest tree to split. She clears her throat, chin angling away like maybe if she doesn’t look at him, she can pretend the words had remained safely behind her tongue. [say]"...like skipping in place,"[/say] she adds, blushing.
[say]"No,"[/say] she says flatly when he brings up the dragon again, exhaling sharply through her nose. [say]"Not admitting anything. It’s just a reasonable rule to have. Dragons are territorial, after all."[/say] Beside her, Spice narrows her icy blue eyes and lets out a breath of frost, the huff clearly aimed in his direction. [say]"See? She agrees."[/say]
But it’s the offer that catches Flora off guard—not the words, exactly, but the weight of them drawing her mind to what had happened when they were last in this kitchen together. Her mouth opens, then closes again, the image of counters and cabinets and his hands against her hips and how she'd nearly kissed him that night when he'd been braced overtop of her. [say]"Uhhhh,"[/say] she says, a hand to comb through one of her curls. [say]"Sure. I mean...yeah, it's your house now, so your call."[/say]
RE: tryna get my Usher on but I can't let it burn - Kaisel - 08-21-2025
He tightens up his stance and wedges his chin between his thumb and first finger, striking a pose that pulls all the wind out of her complaint. [say]"Oh, this face?"[/say] he asks with a sidelong glance, smile breaking his poise at the emergence of her grin. It falters with her confirmation of torture though, and he lets free a groan as if she's just asked him to hit a mile here and now. He tilts his forehead marginally into his hand as if the very thought is summoning physical pain.
Her words leave in such a rush, like some skyship confession she's kept secret too long, and he glances up through the spread of his fingers at her for a moment before his hand sweeps through his hair, head tilting curiously. [say]"Skipping in place? Sounds like stationary running to me. Can't fool me Flo-ro."[/say] His hand falls to tap against his chin, her blush a curious tell. The dilemma of getting fat onboard her ship, that neither of them intend to live on any more, is a very real problem to be solved.
[say]"Sounds like any aerobics would work, especially with a partner. I think we would have been fine,"[/say] he offers, pressing in on the rubberband intentionally. [say]"In which case I would have happily never touched land again,"[/say] he sighs, the regret running deeper. The sky sounds more and more like the best place for him.
Reassuring Spice again that he'd not be bringing any dragons around, he leans in for her response about the lunch plans. It's not quite the enthusiasm he'd banked on, but if it's his call... [say]"C'mon then,"[/say] he says with enough energy to make up for her, reaching to her hand to tug her along after him as he turns and starts to run back the way they'd come. [say]"I saw some food on our way here!"[/say]
RE: tryna get my Usher on but I can't let it burn - Flora - 08-21-2025
[say]"Yes, exactly that one,"[/say] Flora says, voice rich with mock exasperation as she nods emphatically at Kaisel’s pose. [say]"Wince."[/say] She even winces for emphasis, face scrunching as if just looking at him might be detrimental to her health, though her eyes linger longer than needed and the edges of her smile betray how little she means it. It’s easier to hold his gaze when teasing, easier to pretend the tilt of his mouth doesn’t pull something loose inside her, or how boyishly handsome she finds him even when he's being ridiculous.
At the pause in his smile, at the way he looks at her through the spread of his fingers, she tries to navigate the current she created. [say]"Running is great for the body,"[/say] she offers. [say]"Even in place. Stationary jogging, skyship skipping, whatever."[/say] Her eyes flit upward toward him again, noting the way that the sun had evenly bronzed his skin, and her tone softens on instinct. [say]"Yeah. We would’ve been fine,"[/say] she says, and it’s quieter than the rest, shaped more like a memory that never was.
When his fingers find hers, his momentum fills the pause she hadn’t meant to leave behind, and she stumbles for only a breath before her stride matches his. Of course she follows; she’d just said how good running was, after all. Her shoes catch the stone with a rhythm that’s half chase, half chase-me, and for a moment she’s swept up in it, this easy wind that always seems to gust around him when she needs it most.
In another life, maybe she’d have jumped on his back, declared herself the queen of his cardio routine. She’d have laughed louder, teased him crueler, let herself coast in the gravity of his joy. Even now, with her hand still folded into his like no time had passed at all, the thought flits through her mind like a butterfly daring her to catch it. How easy things still are between them. How dangerously easy.
But then her thoughts start twisting sideways, sliding through the cracks in her carefully stacked walls. Was this what it had been like with Caly? This exact charm, this same lightness braided through his step? Had he reached for Caly’s hand with the same ease, turned that boyish grin on her the same way? Had he made her feel special too, only to offer those same golden pieces to whoever came next?
It isn’t fair, she knows. He hasn’t done anything wrong. He should have tried to have a good time with Caly, should have turned on his warmth and his wit and made it an amazing date. But knowing that doesn’t keep her stomach from twisting like a wrung-out dishcloth, or the unspoken question from blooming thorned and jealous in her chest.
What if none of this is special at all?
RE: tryna get my Usher on but I can't let it burn - Kaisel - 08-21-2025
Maybe breaking into a run right after complaining about how awful running is doesn't make much sense, but the difference is this one won't be a long slog specifically designed to extract as much agony as possible under the guise of 'healthy' and 'good work out'. This is just a faster way up the road, a tug to pull Flora along before her blush has time to fade. That she follows—chooses to follow—lightens every step.
Food is still on his mind, and he does mean to make good on buying them something to take back to the house, to enjoy it in someplace that might give them the best chance to start again. First, he has a very intentional detour in mind. She might be queen here, but the people shape the place in their own ways, small street performances and pop-up moments blooming like wildflowers that refuse to be landscaped. He’d caught a trace of it on their way past—music.
Just a small band playing at the corner of one of the bends in the market, hats on the ground open for donation, the bystanders around them admiring and swaying to the tune they put out. The umbrellas and awnings overhead are a riot of colors, leaning down like flower petals. Bubbles drift on the breeze from children playing down the way, each iridescent globe catching the bold hues of the stalls. The whole street hums with life and song.
[say]"Here,"[/say] he announces, more breathless than he'd like, because fuck if she isn't right about his endurance. He turns to her with a brightness to his copper eyes that is usually reserved for mischief, but this one is lit from the rush of the run and the infectious energy of the area. It also sparks off her, a shine that she always puts in him. He doesn't relinquish her hand, pocketing the key in his other to free it to collect the rest of her. [say]"A long overdue dance,"[/say] he explains with a tilted smile.