lay your soul onto mine
Flora bites the inside of her lip, rolling the thought around in her mind like a loose pearl between her fingers. There was no point in trying to outthink him; to reason through what Jack would have pulled from her mind, to know what this would make her think of, and then to try and guess at his motives.
Instead, she turns slightly, angling her body toward him, one hand still resting lightly against the delicate lace of the dress. "Why white?" she asks, her voice significantly softer and far less playful. There was a sapphire thread of some near cousin to hurt in her aqua stare as she tugs on a small smile. "You aren't the sort of man to have clean hands." Not metaphorically, and certainly not literally. "So.." so why white? Why not some other colour right from the start?
Her aqua eyes flick over his face, searching, though what she’s looking for, she isn’t quite sure. Jack isn’t cruel—not with her, anyway—so he had to have known what she’d think when she saw this hanging in his closet. It’s too deliberate, too pointed, and yet...not.
Instead, she turns slightly, angling her body toward him, one hand still resting lightly against the delicate lace of the dress. "Why white?" she asks, her voice significantly softer and far less playful. There was a sapphire thread of some near cousin to hurt in her aqua stare as she tugs on a small smile. "You aren't the sort of man to have clean hands." Not metaphorically, and certainly not literally. "So.." so why white? Why not some other colour right from the start?
Her aqua eyes flick over his face, searching, though what she’s looking for, she isn’t quite sure. Jack isn’t cruel—not with her, anyway—so he had to have known what she’d think when she saw this hanging in his closet. It’s too deliberate, too pointed, and yet...not.
