candlewax & polaroids on the hardwood floor
Flora swings one bare leg where it dangles from the counter, the other folded beneath her, comfortable and smug as a cat in a sunbeam. The heat of Frey’s departure is still clinging to her skin in ways that feel far more sinful than any god should be allowed to inflict, but Kaisel’s wheezing beside her does help, if only because his cackles are the right sort of riotous to chase away her lingering lurid thoughts.
"Shopping?" she echoes, popping another caramel chip into her mouth with deliberate slowness. "You mean you don’t want to wear the toga to breakfast? With, like, a flower crown and some gladiator sandals? Could be your new look." Her grin is sharp, glittering with mischief and residual triumph. "Very god of snacks and easy surrender."
But he’s still flailing somewhat from what she can tell, and the way he points at her, all frazzled and begging for mercy, is so deeply satisfying that she nearly cackles. "Mercy?" she echoes sweetly, aqua eyes going wide as she leans in just slightly, elbow braced against her knee. "Thought you dragoons were meant to be made out of tougher stuff." She tips another chip toward his outstretched mouth, but deliberately misses, letting it bounce off his bottom lip.
"Oops." No remorse.
She shrugs and eats another one herself, licking a bit of sugar from her thumb. "You’re lucky I don’t have a second toga for me," she mutters. "Could have gone for a run tomorrow in matching outfits." Then, opting to take a bit of pity on him, and because she had grown up with brothers and knew there was no waistband in his toga to hide anything behind, Flora nods toward a closed door on the opposite side of the living room. "Bathrooms that way, by the way, if you need a minute."
Not that she thought it would take him that long.
"Shopping?" she echoes, popping another caramel chip into her mouth with deliberate slowness. "You mean you don’t want to wear the toga to breakfast? With, like, a flower crown and some gladiator sandals? Could be your new look." Her grin is sharp, glittering with mischief and residual triumph. "Very god of snacks and easy surrender."
But he’s still flailing somewhat from what she can tell, and the way he points at her, all frazzled and begging for mercy, is so deeply satisfying that she nearly cackles. "Mercy?" she echoes sweetly, aqua eyes going wide as she leans in just slightly, elbow braced against her knee. "Thought you dragoons were meant to be made out of tougher stuff." She tips another chip toward his outstretched mouth, but deliberately misses, letting it bounce off his bottom lip.
"Oops." No remorse.
She shrugs and eats another one herself, licking a bit of sugar from her thumb. "You’re lucky I don’t have a second toga for me," she mutters. "Could have gone for a run tomorrow in matching outfits." Then, opting to take a bit of pity on him, and because she had grown up with brothers and knew there was no waistband in his toga to hide anything behind, Flora nods toward a closed door on the opposite side of the living room. "Bathrooms that way, by the way, if you need a minute."
Not that she thought it would take him that long.
