we show off our different scarlet letters
"Are there very many like you? Or are they all mostly..." Rolling her wrist, Flora debates whether it's permissible to refer to the newbies as old-ascended, before opting for: "..newer?"
But then before their plans can be cemented more than they were, the mood shifts in a way the queen certainly wouldn't have predicted it would.
Flora gives her head a little shake to absolve the butcher of not knowing, not quite trusting the strength of her voice for a moment. However as his arm tightens around her she softens, and though moments before she'd been thinking of how he might soothe his tongue between her legs (and would his horns get in the way..?) now she adored him for entirely different reasons. "Thanks." She says in a small voice, once she's able, the word hardly more than a breath in the diminishing space between them.
Damping down her surprise as if not wanting a massive shift in her expression to somehow scare the moment away, as Asta's fingers loosen another button, the queen sits up. Setting down her wine glass, she twists in his lap to face him. Immediately her hands go towards his chest, though she stays her fingers before they can press against the pale slivers that uncomfortably marr the body below. "And your choice is to keep them covered?" Flora wonders, her aqua eyes flicking up from his chest and searching his gaze. Her question holds no judgment, only simple confirmation that she's gotten it right. You know, before she tries to drag his shirt off of him and then wonders why things are suddenly not going according to plan.
But then before their plans can be cemented more than they were, the mood shifts in a way the queen certainly wouldn't have predicted it would.
Flora gives her head a little shake to absolve the butcher of not knowing, not quite trusting the strength of her voice for a moment. However as his arm tightens around her she softens, and though moments before she'd been thinking of how he might soothe his tongue between her legs (and would his horns get in the way..?) now she adored him for entirely different reasons. "Thanks." She says in a small voice, once she's able, the word hardly more than a breath in the diminishing space between them.
Damping down her surprise as if not wanting a massive shift in her expression to somehow scare the moment away, as Asta's fingers loosen another button, the queen sits up. Setting down her wine glass, she twists in his lap to face him. Immediately her hands go towards his chest, though she stays her fingers before they can press against the pale slivers that uncomfortably marr the body below. "And your choice is to keep them covered?" Flora wonders, her aqua eyes flicking up from his chest and searching his gaze. Her question holds no judgment, only simple confirmation that she's gotten it right. You know, before she tries to drag his shirt off of him and then wonders why things are suddenly not going according to plan.
