candlewax & polaroids on the hardwood floor
The sun was still just thinking about rising when Flora padded into the kitchen, bare feet light against the tile and curls pulled up high into a ponytail that bounced with every step. She wore tight black running shorts and a dark green sports bra that matched the faint shimmer of sweat already starting to bloom at her temples—Torchline humidity was relentless, even at dawn, even at the tail-end of Flowerbirth.
When Kaisel finally emerged, face freshly scrubbed and scowling like thunder, Flora didn’t even flinch. She leaned casually against the counter with one hip, a glass of juice in hand, and nudged another in his direction with the tip of her finger, like nothing at all had happened the night before. "Morning, sunshine," she called sweetly, voice dipped in honey and mock-innocence.
She didn’t bother hiding the grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. Not when Spice was perched smugly atop the fridge, tail twitching and teeth just barely hidden behind the curved line of a self-satisfied snout. Flora took a sip from her own glass and gestured loosely toward the front door with her chin. "Drink up. We’re going running." There wasn’t a hint of apology in her tone—just that effortless kind of cheer that made it painfully clear she was already several steps ahead in whatever revenge game they were playing.
When Kaisel finally emerged, face freshly scrubbed and scowling like thunder, Flora didn’t even flinch. She leaned casually against the counter with one hip, a glass of juice in hand, and nudged another in his direction with the tip of her finger, like nothing at all had happened the night before. "Morning, sunshine," she called sweetly, voice dipped in honey and mock-innocence.
She didn’t bother hiding the grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. Not when Spice was perched smugly atop the fridge, tail twitching and teeth just barely hidden behind the curved line of a self-satisfied snout. Flora took a sip from her own glass and gestured loosely toward the front door with her chin. "Drink up. We’re going running." There wasn’t a hint of apology in her tone—just that effortless kind of cheer that made it painfully clear she was already several steps ahead in whatever revenge game they were playing.
