flora
"There’s probably room in the sink," Flora muses, turning her head slightly against the crook of his arm, the curl of a grin in her voice. "You know. For your socks. A pair of underwear or two." But her gaze slips sideways to catch his profile and the smile she gives next is smaller, a touch more sincere. "Or I could just get you a bag. Enchanted, bottomless. You could keep all your shit in it—shampoo, trash, whatever you want." It’s offhand enough not to hang too heavy in the air, but given the source, it’s anything but a throwaway. When Flora says she’ll get you something, odds are she already knows the merchant by name.
As Kaisel outlines the mess they’d make—her dishes, his habits—Flora just laughs, bright and fond and unbothered. She nods in agreement because yes, he would absolutely steal her shampoo and forget to rinse the plates, and she'd probably go through his snacks out of spite and eat the edges of his brownies as payback. But then her nose crinkles and she gives him a look so full of affection it borders on ache. "Still better than not having you around," she says, like it’s obvious, like it isn’t a little bit of her heart laid down between them for him to tuck away into one of his pockets if he's so inclined.
The quiet that follows should feel peaceful—everything around them is soft and silver in that liminal way only sea-moonlight can manage—but Flora’s breath hitches in her throat and just stays there. Her fingers tighten gently around his, like if she holds too still he’ll drift, or worse, decide to go. But then he says it—okay—and her whole body releases like it’s exhaled with her, that single syllable soaking through her like sun after too long underwater. "Okay," she echoes, barely above a whisper, and twists just far enough to press a kiss to his temple, light and grateful and full of a thousand things she’ll never say out loud.
She wriggles free then, slipping out from under his arm, her curls catching and trailing behind her like light. She pads toward her room, bare feet whispering against the floor, only for a startled snort to echo ahead. "Bassian," she mutters under her breath, and sure enough, the 6’5 sailor emerges wrapped in a blanket like an ashamed burrito, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "Sorry, I—uh—fell asleep," he mumbles, eyes flicking between them before offering Kai a sheepish half-wave. Without waiting for acknowledgment, he disappears up the stairs, presumably to do the actual watch duty he'd promised to handle.
Flora rolls her eyes, fond and a little exasperated, before glancing over her shoulder and extending both hands toward Kaisel. "Come on, you," she says, tone playful, fingers flexing in invitation.
Her bedroom is everything the rest of the Sugar Tide is, only more so. Maximalist, lush, and layered in unapologetic softness. Lilac, sea salt, and magnolia perfume the air; a sheer curtain drapes lazily over the single round window, the sea just beyond it a blurred mural of moving blue. Spice perches above them, wings tucked and humming faintly with cold as she keeps the air deliciously cool. Shelves curve into the walls, cluttered with seashells, hairpins, and books with half-folded pages and pressed flowers left to dry. The bed swallows the room—half ship, half daydream—with pillows spilling over the edge and throws that look like they were stitched out of clouds. Flora doesn’t hesitate. She flops into the centre, starfishing across the sheets like she owns the tide itself, sighing as if the weight of the day sinks into the mattress and leaves her clean.
Then she pegs Kai in the chest with a pillow, because it's a sleepover and, y'know, not anything else. "Sleep in whatever," she says, the smirk in her voice curling like seafoam. As if to make good on the invitation, she shimmies out of her shorts, letting them fall to the floor before she stretches long and lazy. Her shirt—oversized and worn soft—drapes down her thighs, hiding everything and nothing at once, not that there's really much of her that Kaisel hasn't seen.
There’s no flirtation in her voice now, not really. Just warmth and safety and maybe a little bit of loneliness. A little piece of her, quiet and uninvited, still wonders what sharing a bed with Kai might feel like when the world isn’t coming undone; gods knew the thought had crossed her mind, but for tonight, having him here is enough.
As Kaisel outlines the mess they’d make—her dishes, his habits—Flora just laughs, bright and fond and unbothered. She nods in agreement because yes, he would absolutely steal her shampoo and forget to rinse the plates, and she'd probably go through his snacks out of spite and eat the edges of his brownies as payback. But then her nose crinkles and she gives him a look so full of affection it borders on ache. "Still better than not having you around," she says, like it’s obvious, like it isn’t a little bit of her heart laid down between them for him to tuck away into one of his pockets if he's so inclined.
The quiet that follows should feel peaceful—everything around them is soft and silver in that liminal way only sea-moonlight can manage—but Flora’s breath hitches in her throat and just stays there. Her fingers tighten gently around his, like if she holds too still he’ll drift, or worse, decide to go. But then he says it—okay—and her whole body releases like it’s exhaled with her, that single syllable soaking through her like sun after too long underwater. "Okay," she echoes, barely above a whisper, and twists just far enough to press a kiss to his temple, light and grateful and full of a thousand things she’ll never say out loud.
She wriggles free then, slipping out from under his arm, her curls catching and trailing behind her like light. She pads toward her room, bare feet whispering against the floor, only for a startled snort to echo ahead. "Bassian," she mutters under her breath, and sure enough, the 6’5 sailor emerges wrapped in a blanket like an ashamed burrito, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "Sorry, I—uh—fell asleep," he mumbles, eyes flicking between them before offering Kai a sheepish half-wave. Without waiting for acknowledgment, he disappears up the stairs, presumably to do the actual watch duty he'd promised to handle.
Flora rolls her eyes, fond and a little exasperated, before glancing over her shoulder and extending both hands toward Kaisel. "Come on, you," she says, tone playful, fingers flexing in invitation.
Her bedroom is everything the rest of the Sugar Tide is, only more so. Maximalist, lush, and layered in unapologetic softness. Lilac, sea salt, and magnolia perfume the air; a sheer curtain drapes lazily over the single round window, the sea just beyond it a blurred mural of moving blue. Spice perches above them, wings tucked and humming faintly with cold as she keeps the air deliciously cool. Shelves curve into the walls, cluttered with seashells, hairpins, and books with half-folded pages and pressed flowers left to dry. The bed swallows the room—half ship, half daydream—with pillows spilling over the edge and throws that look like they were stitched out of clouds. Flora doesn’t hesitate. She flops into the centre, starfishing across the sheets like she owns the tide itself, sighing as if the weight of the day sinks into the mattress and leaves her clean.
Then she pegs Kai in the chest with a pillow, because it's a sleepover and, y'know, not anything else. "Sleep in whatever," she says, the smirk in her voice curling like seafoam. As if to make good on the invitation, she shimmies out of her shorts, letting them fall to the floor before she stretches long and lazy. Her shirt—oversized and worn soft—drapes down her thighs, hiding everything and nothing at once, not that there's really much of her that Kaisel hasn't seen.
There’s no flirtation in her voice now, not really. Just warmth and safety and maybe a little bit of loneliness. A little piece of her, quiet and uninvited, still wonders what sharing a bed with Kai might feel like when the world isn’t coming undone; gods knew the thought had crossed her mind, but for tonight, having him here is enough.
My house of stone, your ivy grows
And now I'm covered in you
And now I'm covered in you
