flora
Flora, who is already a queen, sees no issue in annexing whatever hill Kaisel wants to try and die on. Emotional battlegrounds, dramatic disputes over chip allegiances—conquered, catalogued, and added to her dominion.
"Besides," she drawls, her cheek still pressed into her folded arms, "it’s a win-win. Either I stay smooth and beautiful and you get to feed your weirdo sunscreen obsession, or I go full crispy and become your favourite salty snack. No extra effort on your part."
When he flops dramatically beside her and starts rubbing lotion into his chest like some overly bronzed cover model, she reaches for whatever’s closest—one of her sandals—and lazily chucks it at his hip. "Ugh, if you're going to do that, no crying at least," she mutters without looking, her tone perfectly dry as if expecting his hands to take advantage of their oily sheen and slip between his ombre shorts.
Her gaze trails over him with amusement as he tends to his legs, and though she doesn't say it aloud, it's obvious she’s noting every exaggerated motion. "The Dragoons must really be falling apart if your current assignment is this wishy-washy," she comments with a smirk. There's no bite in it, though—if anything, her voice softens with something close to appreciation. Even if the Dragoons really were going to shit, it was nice to see Kaisel more often, even if he was apparently being deployed on secret fucking missions now.
"Besides," she drawls, her cheek still pressed into her folded arms, "it’s a win-win. Either I stay smooth and beautiful and you get to feed your weirdo sunscreen obsession, or I go full crispy and become your favourite salty snack. No extra effort on your part."
When he flops dramatically beside her and starts rubbing lotion into his chest like some overly bronzed cover model, she reaches for whatever’s closest—one of her sandals—and lazily chucks it at his hip. "Ugh, if you're going to do that, no crying at least," she mutters without looking, her tone perfectly dry as if expecting his hands to take advantage of their oily sheen and slip between his ombre shorts.
Her gaze trails over him with amusement as he tends to his legs, and though she doesn't say it aloud, it's obvious she’s noting every exaggerated motion. "The Dragoons must really be falling apart if your current assignment is this wishy-washy," she comments with a smirk. There's no bite in it, though—if anything, her voice softens with something close to appreciation. Even if the Dragoons really were going to shit, it was nice to see Kaisel more often, even if he was apparently being deployed on secret fucking missions now.
I want to be when you fall on me like night
I wanna kill the lights
I wanna kill the lights
