flora
Flora snuggles in tighter, fully claiming the space Asta offers like she’s afraid it might vanish if she doesn’t stake her place. The blanket shifts with them, cocooning them in warmth and shadow and the faint scent of spiced chocolate still hanging in the air. She sighs, content for a moment just to be there, wrapped in steady arms and something that doesn't feel like a battlefield for once.
"Weirder things have happened," she murmurs, lips curving faintly against his collarbone as she echoes his ‘backwards timeline’ comment. "In one of them, maybe I’m the emotionally stable one and you’re the chaotic mess trying to untangle your feelings in a tavern booth."
Setting down her mug beside his, Flora slides her arms around his chest beneath the blanket, palms flattening against his back like maybe she can soak in a little of his calm by osmosis. When her gaze drifts back up to his face, the moonlight does lovely things to his cheekbones and the curve of his mouth, the moss-brown of his eyes turned dusk-deep. "Still perfect to me," she insists quietly, nose wrinkling in soft mimicry as she rests her chin on his chest. "Just adds to your whole mysterious aesthetic. Deadly charm and deep secrets."
Her brows lift then, a sly gleam rising behind her lashes. "Speaking of—" she says, a little sing-song, "is that certain pale thorn still out there running her mouth about you?"
"Weirder things have happened," she murmurs, lips curving faintly against his collarbone as she echoes his ‘backwards timeline’ comment. "In one of them, maybe I’m the emotionally stable one and you’re the chaotic mess trying to untangle your feelings in a tavern booth."
Setting down her mug beside his, Flora slides her arms around his chest beneath the blanket, palms flattening against his back like maybe she can soak in a little of his calm by osmosis. When her gaze drifts back up to his face, the moonlight does lovely things to his cheekbones and the curve of his mouth, the moss-brown of his eyes turned dusk-deep. "Still perfect to me," she insists quietly, nose wrinkling in soft mimicry as she rests her chin on his chest. "Just adds to your whole mysterious aesthetic. Deadly charm and deep secrets."
Her brows lift then, a sly gleam rising behind her lashes. "Speaking of—" she says, a little sing-song, "is that certain pale thorn still out there running her mouth about you?"
what doesn't kill me makes
me want you more
me want you more
