flora
Flora groans dramatically, her head tipping back in exaggerated frustration as Jack effortlessly dismantles her bluff before it even gets a chance to land. Of course she isn't going to sink his precious fucking Ark—but the fact that he knows this without hesitation only makes the bitterness taste sharper in her mouth. Fine, she thinks, unable to quiet the fierce indignation simmering inside her. She shoots him a scowl edged with begrudging irritation, silently cursing how well he knows her, knows her limits—knows exactly which threads to pull to unravel her completely.
His accusation, though, slices deeper. An apology? Flora's mind whirls at the very idea, a storm of pride and hurt and wounded confusion tangling her thoughts into knots. How the fuck is she supposed to offer an apology now, when seconds ago she'd been vividly picturing flaying the floral tattoo straight from his arm, the petals scattering like tears in the ocean? How could she possibly force sincerity through her teeth when her heart still thrashes between resentment and a desperate, aching love that she wishes she could tear out by the roots?
The internal snarl of her thoughts is louder than any words she could say, raw and unfiltered in a way only Jack can truly hear. What would it matter anyway? her thoughts hiss bitterly, her chest tight with the sting of being misunderstood yet again. It would just sound like another fuck you, because that’s all we ever seem to say now.
But then Jack's final words land, and Flora’s mind erupts with frustration that flares white-hot through every tangled thought she has. "Not worth a stray thought?" she echoes incredulously, her voice nearly breaking under the weight of everything unsaid. "Are you fucking serious? You were every goddamn thought, Jack. You were the one who said we needed to be in their way, that you saw what Dahlia could do. That they were a plague that was going to consume everything unless we did something to stop it."
Her eyes flash with a sudden clarity, aqua sharp with hurt and something else—something fierce and accusing. "But that's not really what you're pissed about, is it? You’re mad because I didn't run my entire fucking plan by you first." Her voice hardens, bitterness bleeding through as she turns his own words back against him. "We've only been together a Few SeAsOnS, right? Why exactly do you think you're entitled to know every step I take, every move I make, when you were content as fuck otherwise for me not to overstep my place as just your girlfriend."
She tilts her chin up defiantly, staring him down like a tempest. "I wanted us to be more. But you—" she pauses, swallowing the ache that threatens to choke her, "didn't, so.." So he was afforded the same courtesy given to her co-leader and her best friend.
His accusation, though, slices deeper. An apology? Flora's mind whirls at the very idea, a storm of pride and hurt and wounded confusion tangling her thoughts into knots. How the fuck is she supposed to offer an apology now, when seconds ago she'd been vividly picturing flaying the floral tattoo straight from his arm, the petals scattering like tears in the ocean? How could she possibly force sincerity through her teeth when her heart still thrashes between resentment and a desperate, aching love that she wishes she could tear out by the roots?
The internal snarl of her thoughts is louder than any words she could say, raw and unfiltered in a way only Jack can truly hear. What would it matter anyway? her thoughts hiss bitterly, her chest tight with the sting of being misunderstood yet again. It would just sound like another fuck you, because that’s all we ever seem to say now.
But then Jack's final words land, and Flora’s mind erupts with frustration that flares white-hot through every tangled thought she has. "Not worth a stray thought?" she echoes incredulously, her voice nearly breaking under the weight of everything unsaid. "Are you fucking serious? You were every goddamn thought, Jack. You were the one who said we needed to be in their way, that you saw what Dahlia could do. That they were a plague that was going to consume everything unless we did something to stop it."
Her eyes flash with a sudden clarity, aqua sharp with hurt and something else—something fierce and accusing. "But that's not really what you're pissed about, is it? You’re mad because I didn't run my entire fucking plan by you first." Her voice hardens, bitterness bleeding through as she turns his own words back against him. "We've only been together a Few SeAsOnS, right? Why exactly do you think you're entitled to know every step I take, every move I make, when you were content as fuck otherwise for me not to overstep my place as just your girlfriend."
She tilts her chin up defiantly, staring him down like a tempest. "I wanted us to be more. But you—" she pauses, swallowing the ache that threatens to choke her, "didn't, so.." So he was afforded the same courtesy given to her co-leader and her best friend.
The rumors are terrible and cruel
But honey, most of them are true
But honey, most of them are true
