Koa
Sure, Flora- you're totally fine, and Koa's totally a rocket scientist. Honestly, girl. Choose a better lie. Koa's eyes narrow in open disbelief; he knows her too well to be fooled by the answer, even if her voice wasn't as fragile as a skeletal leaf, stripped its protective skin and left shivering in the wind of their collective mistakes. There's a beat where it seems like he might challenge her, where his diaphragm contracts as he readies himself to announce that no, you're not.
But then he thinks better, because it's not his job and if she wants to lie about how she's doing then that's her right. "Okay," he says instead, sounding much like a deflated balloon as the fight drains out of him and into a shrug, trying to respect the distance she's put between them, the distance he knows he has to maintain if he wants any chance of keeping his life from becoming a mess of tangled threads.
It ought to have ended there. Flora ought to have moved on, toward some brighter horizon, some warm and unburdened hunk who would be absolutely delighted to lavish the Queen with the attention she commands; Koa ought to have returned to his book, to brainstorming a romantic escapade wonderful enough to match Sohalia's smile. He's halfway there, the pencil raised intentionally as he turns back to the empty page.
But Flora's voice brings him whipping back, the way it always does.
"Don't do that." It's almost a plea, plaintive and raw, with a glinting edge beneath. "I can't... talk about that, with you. Talk about her. I know you guys are friends, but..." He trails off, jaw feathering, throat working, struggling against a torrent of things that really shouldn't get dislodged.
His eyes fall back to the edge of a table, to a groove upon the wooden top. He scowls at it, as though that crack had personally offended him; as though it represents the fracture she'd left in his heart. "I can't pretend that nothing happened between us, Flora. Or that I don't... that the way I feel about you- felt about you-..." He shrugs, feeling rather lost. When he looks back at the Doubletake there's a searching, complicated gleam in his copper eyes, something even he's not sure he can name.
"Does it really not bother you at all? The idea of Soh and me?"
But then he thinks better, because it's not his job and if she wants to lie about how she's doing then that's her right. "Okay," he says instead, sounding much like a deflated balloon as the fight drains out of him and into a shrug, trying to respect the distance she's put between them, the distance he knows he has to maintain if he wants any chance of keeping his life from becoming a mess of tangled threads.
It ought to have ended there. Flora ought to have moved on, toward some brighter horizon, some warm and unburdened hunk who would be absolutely delighted to lavish the Queen with the attention she commands; Koa ought to have returned to his book, to brainstorming a romantic escapade wonderful enough to match Sohalia's smile. He's halfway there, the pencil raised intentionally as he turns back to the empty page.
But Flora's voice brings him whipping back, the way it always does.
"Don't do that." It's almost a plea, plaintive and raw, with a glinting edge beneath. "I can't... talk about that, with you. Talk about her. I know you guys are friends, but..." He trails off, jaw feathering, throat working, struggling against a torrent of things that really shouldn't get dislodged.
His eyes fall back to the edge of a table, to a groove upon the wooden top. He scowls at it, as though that crack had personally offended him; as though it represents the fracture she'd left in his heart. "I can't pretend that nothing happened between us, Flora. Or that I don't... that the way I feel about you- felt about you-..." He shrugs, feeling rather lost. When he looks back at the Doubletake there's a searching, complicated gleam in his copper eyes, something even he's not sure he can name.
"Does it really not bother you at all? The idea of Soh and me?"
the most remarkable thing about you standing in the doorway
is that it's you, and that you're standing in the doorway
is that it's you, and that you're standing in the doorway
