flora
"What? It'd be very you to disappear with the snap of your fingers." Flora points out. Then again if he were to accidentally press his fingers together while doing something else and vanish to The Ark, Flora might be tempted to cut said fingers off and have him tie them around his neck, instead.
Following his gaze, Flora's eyes greedily sweep over the unmarked skin. "Oh?" She wasn't to know how long he'd agonized over what flowers best represented her, not when he'd just shown up one day and casually stripped his shirt off to reveal the fresh spray of ink like it was nothing. "Maybe more flowers, but...I mean, I'm sure we can do better than just the obvious reference to my name." Or, maybe not. Maybe she'd just have someone ink Flora right across the muscle. Maybe the O could even be a heart.
Raising a brow at the thought of cutting into him, the queen recoils slightly if only to try and better gauge if he was kidding or not. "Don't you think you have enough scars because of me?" To emphasize, her fingertips slid down the length of his side before falling between them and tracing the horizontal lines which had carved him open. More than happy to meet the rise of his tongue with her own, Flora lets her hand press against the captain's lower abdomen as if she might wipe away the scars beneath her palm.
Following his gaze, Flora's eyes greedily sweep over the unmarked skin. "Oh?" She wasn't to know how long he'd agonized over what flowers best represented her, not when he'd just shown up one day and casually stripped his shirt off to reveal the fresh spray of ink like it was nothing. "Maybe more flowers, but...I mean, I'm sure we can do better than just the obvious reference to my name." Or, maybe not. Maybe she'd just have someone ink Flora right across the muscle. Maybe the O could even be a heart.
Raising a brow at the thought of cutting into him, the queen recoils slightly if only to try and better gauge if he was kidding or not. "Don't you think you have enough scars because of me?" To emphasize, her fingertips slid down the length of his side before falling between them and tracing the horizontal lines which had carved him open. More than happy to meet the rise of his tongue with her own, Flora lets her hand press against the captain's lower abdomen as if she might wipe away the scars beneath her palm.
How can a person know everything at 18 but nothing at 22?
Will you still want me when I'm nothing new?
Will you still want me when I'm nothing new?
