lay your soul onto mine
Flora groans, loud and full of suffering. "Mismatched socks can absolutely be a fashion statement," she insists, jabbing a finger into his side with emphasis. "Not that you’d know anything about fashion, Mr. Shirt-Crumpled-in-Hand-Like-a-Rag." Her smirk edges into affection all the same, especially as he brings up the candle again. "Oh please," she says, tossing her hair with an overdone flourish. "You so know what it smells like. Probably something ridiculous like lychee-seasalt-vanilla-wind, with a swirl of gold foil on top. You imagined it the second I said it." And, okay, he’s right—technically it was supposed to be a scent. Her shrug is almost sheepish. "Fine. Point Kaisel."
When he mimics her voice, she wrinkles her nose up at him, expression sunny even as she mock-glares. "Okay but like, what other earthly reason is there for someone to not want to make out with me??" she teases, brows lifting with fake innocence and a hand pressed theatrically to her chest.
But when he says he’d give up sleeping? That’s a line. "Blasphemy," Flora gasps, reeling as though physically struck. "I could never. I love sleeping. There is no better feeling than collapsing into bed, fully exhausted, and letting sleep wrap you up like a fluffy little mermaid burrito." Her sigh is dreamy. "And if you don’t sleep, then what’re you supposed to do when a girl’s all cuddled up against you all night, hmm? You’d be bored out of your fucking mind."
His food answer gets a slow, approving nod. "Strong choice," she murmurs. "Those are always like five layers of flavour and a full architectural feat." She licks her lips thoughtfully. "Mine would be the kind of pasta they cook in a wheel of cheese. You know the ones? With fresh seafood and veggies, white wine sauce, and just heaps of garlic bread on the side. Like, ungodly amounts. More than is morally right."
The easy warmth of the moment deepens as he presses a kiss to her hair, and her other arm snakes around his stomach without hesitation. Their steps stay slow, unhurried, like the world can wait a little longer. "Me too," she murmurs, letting the words settle between them like seafoam. But then, fingers dance lightly across his ribs, mischievous and warm. "We could," she says, eyes bright as she tips her head up toward him. "If you left the oppressive violet floating city and moved to Torchline. Just sayyyyyingggg."
When he mimics her voice, she wrinkles her nose up at him, expression sunny even as she mock-glares. "Okay but like, what other earthly reason is there for someone to not want to make out with me??" she teases, brows lifting with fake innocence and a hand pressed theatrically to her chest.
But when he says he’d give up sleeping? That’s a line. "Blasphemy," Flora gasps, reeling as though physically struck. "I could never. I love sleeping. There is no better feeling than collapsing into bed, fully exhausted, and letting sleep wrap you up like a fluffy little mermaid burrito." Her sigh is dreamy. "And if you don’t sleep, then what’re you supposed to do when a girl’s all cuddled up against you all night, hmm? You’d be bored out of your fucking mind."
His food answer gets a slow, approving nod. "Strong choice," she murmurs. "Those are always like five layers of flavour and a full architectural feat." She licks her lips thoughtfully. "Mine would be the kind of pasta they cook in a wheel of cheese. You know the ones? With fresh seafood and veggies, white wine sauce, and just heaps of garlic bread on the side. Like, ungodly amounts. More than is morally right."
The easy warmth of the moment deepens as he presses a kiss to her hair, and her other arm snakes around his stomach without hesitation. Their steps stay slow, unhurried, like the world can wait a little longer. "Me too," she murmurs, letting the words settle between them like seafoam. But then, fingers dance lightly across his ribs, mischievous and warm. "We could," she says, eyes bright as she tips her head up toward him. "If you left the oppressive violet floating city and moved to Torchline. Just sayyyyyingggg."
