we show off our different scarlet letters
"And I can't wait to show you." Flora purrs in return as her cheeks flush a delicious pink that has nothing at all to do with the temperature of the surrounding hot springs and everything to do with the way every word from the butcher's lips sounds as if it's honey-heavy and dripping from satin.
"You should come visit me then." She invites, just as casual as can be as her fingers loosely wrap around his own. For all of her skills with her daggers the Doubletake has no callouses to speak of, her hands just as perfectly manicured and taken care of as the Butcher's own. "That's right—ancients can't be harmed at all by fire, can they?" Flora muses, wonderstruck at the mental image of Asta emerging from a pillar of fire only to slick his hair back and then light a cigarette with the flames. Did he smoke? Gods, she bet he did.
Having no idea quite how hot the ground was given that she was still in her heels, as the butcher sank down ahead of her, providing ample room in his lap, who was she to say no? Placing a hand on his shoulder to aid the way she intended to melt down against him—Flora took meticulous care of her physique, yes, but that only stemmed from a whole host of issues with self-confidence so no way was she just going to plop down—the Doubletake fit herself as neatly against him as she could in order to make it feel as though she belonged there. "Very thoughtful of you." She hums appreciatively before taking a small sip of wine and gazing up at him through dark lashes.
"No? You should. It's so good for the body." Though based on how the butcher felt against her, he wasn't lacking for ways to keep fit. "You know.." The closest now that she'd properly been to him, as Flora peers up at Asta, her aqua eyes brushing over the burnt honey of his eyes before falling down to his lips, her eyebrows raise ever so slightly as the corner of her mouth quirks into a crooked smile. "I'd have expected more scars around your mouth." She whispers softly.
"You should come visit me then." She invites, just as casual as can be as her fingers loosely wrap around his own. For all of her skills with her daggers the Doubletake has no callouses to speak of, her hands just as perfectly manicured and taken care of as the Butcher's own. "That's right—ancients can't be harmed at all by fire, can they?" Flora muses, wonderstruck at the mental image of Asta emerging from a pillar of fire only to slick his hair back and then light a cigarette with the flames. Did he smoke? Gods, she bet he did.
Having no idea quite how hot the ground was given that she was still in her heels, as the butcher sank down ahead of her, providing ample room in his lap, who was she to say no? Placing a hand on his shoulder to aid the way she intended to melt down against him—Flora took meticulous care of her physique, yes, but that only stemmed from a whole host of issues with self-confidence so no way was she just going to plop down—the Doubletake fit herself as neatly against him as she could in order to make it feel as though she belonged there. "Very thoughtful of you." She hums appreciatively before taking a small sip of wine and gazing up at him through dark lashes.
"No? You should. It's so good for the body." Though based on how the butcher felt against her, he wasn't lacking for ways to keep fit. "You know.." The closest now that she'd properly been to him, as Flora peers up at Asta, her aqua eyes brushing over the burnt honey of his eyes before falling down to his lips, her eyebrows raise ever so slightly as the corner of her mouth quirks into a crooked smile. "I'd have expected more scars around your mouth." She whispers softly.
