i could be the reason you can't sleep at night
Flora’s chest swells with a warmth so fierce it almost outshines the late-morning sun filtering through the windows. She pulls Sohalia into a grateful squeeze, then turns to Kaisel with that fierce, mischievous grin he knows all too well as she feels a crumb strike her bare arm. "You’re both absolute saints," she breathes, brushing a stray curl from her face, before pulling a face at Kaisel.
"Alright—Soh, you’re on ice cream duty. Keep that cold box out of the sun until the very last second. And Kai, er.." She reaches for the gleaming copper skillet in his hand, turning it over in her fingers. "This one—yes. Perfect for morning omelettes when I’m too sea-sick to bother with anything fancier. And you," she winks at Sohalia, “"need to double the amount of wine glasses."
Spice flutters above her shoulder, a puff of frost marking each box they seal. Flora steps back, surveying the gentle chaos with proud exhaustion. "One room down, two to go—clothes and dragon-miscellaneous next." She leads the way down the hall, Spice flittering ahead to scout the landing. At the top of the stairs, she throws open her bedroom door to reveal a riot of colour and fabric: rows of hanging gowns, piles of once-loved tunics, and dresser drawers overflowing with embroidered scarves and bathing suits.
"Here’s where the real work begins," she says, sliding halfway into the closet and sweeping out a grand gesture of silk and sequins. "We’ll sort it into ‘Boat-Bound’ and ‘Bar-Forever.’" She yanks down the first glittering dress, eyeing it with mock solemnity, knowing she really ought to leave it behind, but tossing it into the 'take' pile anyway.
Round 3, clothes! Obviously Flora thinks gowns, scarves, and sunglasses take priority.
"Alright—Soh, you’re on ice cream duty. Keep that cold box out of the sun until the very last second. And Kai, er.." She reaches for the gleaming copper skillet in his hand, turning it over in her fingers. "This one—yes. Perfect for morning omelettes when I’m too sea-sick to bother with anything fancier. And you," she winks at Sohalia, “"need to double the amount of wine glasses."
Spice flutters above her shoulder, a puff of frost marking each box they seal. Flora steps back, surveying the gentle chaos with proud exhaustion. "One room down, two to go—clothes and dragon-miscellaneous next." She leads the way down the hall, Spice flittering ahead to scout the landing. At the top of the stairs, she throws open her bedroom door to reveal a riot of colour and fabric: rows of hanging gowns, piles of once-loved tunics, and dresser drawers overflowing with embroidered scarves and bathing suits.
"Here’s where the real work begins," she says, sliding halfway into the closet and sweeping out a grand gesture of silk and sequins. "We’ll sort it into ‘Boat-Bound’ and ‘Bar-Forever.’" She yanks down the first glittering dress, eyeing it with mock solemnity, knowing she really ought to leave it behind, but tossing it into the 'take' pile anyway.
Round 3, clothes! Obviously Flora thinks gowns, scarves, and sunglasses take priority.
