lay your soul onto mine
Flora had always been good at games—especially when they involved a bit of strategy, a bit of bluffing, and a lot of shameless charm. So, really, it wasn’t even a question of if she’d end up at a poker table on The Ark’s deck during Jack’s party, but rather how much she’d manage to win before the night was through.
Seated across from Bassian, Jack’s ever-loyal #3, she was a vision of effortless indulgence in a silky slip dress in deep, intoxicating red, its thin straps leaving her shoulders bare while the hem teased high against her thighs. A slit in the fabric revealed glimpses of sun-kissed skin every time she shifted, and she wore it with the same confidence she wore her crown. Gold rings glinted on her fingers as she shuffled her cards, and when she lifted her drink to her lips, her smirk was razor-sharp, her aqua eyes gleaming with mischief.
Bassian, bless him, was trying to keep up. Unfortunately for him, he was playing against a woman who knew exactly how to weaponize every advantage she had. (All the more effectively since meeting Jack).
The queen leans forward, ever so slightly, propping her elbows on the table so that the deep neckline of her dress does exactly what it was meant to do. "You sure about that move, babe?" She asks her voice all honeyed innocence, watching the way his gaze flickers downward for just a second too long. And that’s all it takes—one misstep, one distracted call, and suddenly the pile of winnings shifts in her favour once again.
Tutting softly under her breath, Flora's fingers tap against her growing stack of chips, coins, and—oh, look at that—one of Bassian's necklaces. She plucks the piece of jewelry from the pile, twirling it between her fingers with a triumphant grin. "I’m starting to think you just enjoy giving me things."
She might have kept at it all night, bleeding him dry of every last trinket he owned, if not for the sight of Jack slipping away from the revelry. Tilting her head, she watches as he slinks toward his cabin before rising and leaving Bassian to contemplate how thoroughly she'd robbed him. Her steps are light, her thoughts even lighter, buzzing with a bright, champagne-bubbly warmth from the alcohol and the thrill of the night.
By the time she reaches Jack’s door, the captain will have known she was on her way since before she'd slid her chair away from the table. He'll feel the giddy delight in her thoughts before she even reaches for the handle, but that doesn’t stop her from making a show of it anyway. Pushing the door open just far enough to slip inside, before pressing it shut behind her with a quiet click. She leans back against it, arms folded beneath her chest, one ankle crossing over the other in an easy, sultry stance. "Are you seriously hiding from your own party?"
Seated across from Bassian, Jack’s ever-loyal #3, she was a vision of effortless indulgence in a silky slip dress in deep, intoxicating red, its thin straps leaving her shoulders bare while the hem teased high against her thighs. A slit in the fabric revealed glimpses of sun-kissed skin every time she shifted, and she wore it with the same confidence she wore her crown. Gold rings glinted on her fingers as she shuffled her cards, and when she lifted her drink to her lips, her smirk was razor-sharp, her aqua eyes gleaming with mischief.
Bassian, bless him, was trying to keep up. Unfortunately for him, he was playing against a woman who knew exactly how to weaponize every advantage she had. (All the more effectively since meeting Jack).
The queen leans forward, ever so slightly, propping her elbows on the table so that the deep neckline of her dress does exactly what it was meant to do. "You sure about that move, babe?" She asks her voice all honeyed innocence, watching the way his gaze flickers downward for just a second too long. And that’s all it takes—one misstep, one distracted call, and suddenly the pile of winnings shifts in her favour once again.
Tutting softly under her breath, Flora's fingers tap against her growing stack of chips, coins, and—oh, look at that—one of Bassian's necklaces. She plucks the piece of jewelry from the pile, twirling it between her fingers with a triumphant grin. "I’m starting to think you just enjoy giving me things."
She might have kept at it all night, bleeding him dry of every last trinket he owned, if not for the sight of Jack slipping away from the revelry. Tilting her head, she watches as he slinks toward his cabin before rising and leaving Bassian to contemplate how thoroughly she'd robbed him. Her steps are light, her thoughts even lighter, buzzing with a bright, champagne-bubbly warmth from the alcohol and the thrill of the night.
By the time she reaches Jack’s door, the captain will have known she was on her way since before she'd slid her chair away from the table. He'll feel the giddy delight in her thoughts before she even reaches for the handle, but that doesn’t stop her from making a show of it anyway. Pushing the door open just far enough to slip inside, before pressing it shut behind her with a quiet click. She leans back against it, arms folded beneath her chest, one ankle crossing over the other in an easy, sultry stance. "Are you seriously hiding from your own party?"
