// I'd take the fall—I got you covered when there's no one at all //
'Dragon-miscellaneous,' he mouths silently behind them as they drift into the next room like unleashed birthday balloons, each bobbing in one direction or another. Kaisel lingers near the closet door, as if anxious to get closer and be swallowed by the sheer scale of Flora's wardrobe. The layers of fabric and multitudes of styles are an overwhelming concept for the otherwise simple Dragoon who could make do with the same two outfits for life. Sohalia busies herself with an expert eye on the endless options to decide between, but Kaisel watches Flora for a moment. Her longing is briefly visible as she weighs a glittering dress in her hands, deciding its fate. Her fingers clutch the shimmering cloth, as if she can hold this place in time if she grips tightly enough; keep the life she's built from rearranging beneath her feet while she's still catching her breath from the last stumble. But like the tide, time is relentless, tugging the seconds from her gold-adorned fingers with all the force of the sea. No matter how strong her grip, she can't hold this. He can't bear to watch. None of them can do a damn thing about it. So he finally dares to plunge into the hallway of hangers to do what little he can for her today.
Soh seems to have the boat-bound under control, so he reaches for all the excessively shiny articles of clothes he could find. "You could create the first mobile bar," he reasons as he pulls down a sequined array of threads. "Caftan?" he asks, holding it up to honor his earlier promise not to leave it behind. "Start a whole yacht business—or maybe a cruise line," e adds, yanking free various gowns and tiny, tight shirts. He flips them over in his hands, brow furrowing deeper with each one. None of the holes match anything he recognizes as a top. One seems like it has to be entirely tied on and wrapped around to make it take shape? The more complicated they look, the more certain he is Flora will want them and tosses them into the 'take' box. "Maritime Mistakes," he suggests as he sorts, "Or Saltwater Sin."
Kaisel grabs all the shiny and weird clothes for the bar-forever box and recommends she start a floating bar
Soh seems to have the boat-bound under control, so he reaches for all the excessively shiny articles of clothes he could find. "You could create the first mobile bar," he reasons as he pulls down a sequined array of threads. "Caftan?" he asks, holding it up to honor his earlier promise not to leave it behind. "Start a whole yacht business—or maybe a cruise line," e adds, yanking free various gowns and tiny, tight shirts. He flips them over in his hands, brow furrowing deeper with each one. None of the holes match anything he recognizes as a top. One seems like it has to be entirely tied on and wrapped around to make it take shape? The more complicated they look, the more certain he is Flora will want them and tosses them into the 'take' box. "Maritime Mistakes," he suggests as he sorts, "Or Saltwater Sin."
Kaisel grabs all the shiny and weird clothes for the bar-forever box and recommends she start a floating bar
Kaisel
// When you need somebody to turn to—Nobody got you the way I do //
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
