marked me like a bloodstain
Flora's gasp is theatrical, scandal painted in every curve of her expression as she presses a hand to her chest like he’s just accused her of treason. "Noooooo," she protests, drawing the word out. "I was trying to melt the chocolate chips the way you like them. It’s not my fault chocolate burns like it’s got a personal vendetta."
Flora stares at Kai as he refuses to turn around, indignant, brows lifted in mock disbelief that’s only half for show. There’s a familiar spark kindling in her gaze, caught somewhere between flirtation and warning, but she doesn’t move. She doesn’t know whether to lean into it and push him back with her usual golden boldness, to yield and let herself disappear into the safety of old rhythms, or to simply tell him outright that this can't be a good idea.
Before she can decide, he steps forward.
Her laugh escapes her on a breath of incredulous disbelief, the sound curling up as he all but herds her back toward the tub with the kind of quiet determination only he can pull off. She gives him a look, one that's sharp with affection and soft with concern, something daring layered beneath something too honest to hide—and then, with a dramatic sigh, she rolls her eyes and lets the moment take her.
Carefully, Flora reaches for the hem of her shirt-dress and begins to peel it up from the bottom, slow and cautious to keep the silk from catching against skin still too raw to be touched without consequence. She lifts it to her shoulders, fingers shifting and stretching to avoid contact with the healing ridges that cross her back like unwelcome constellations. "After I was attacked, Remi gave me his health," she explains. "Which sounds great on paper, but it isn't healing. Not really. It just fused everything together in an instant." Her tone flattens a little. "So now the wounds aren’t open anymore, but they’re not exactly closed either. They’ve just...stuck. Which is why everyone keeps hovering with their creams, trying to coax the scars into something less painful and tight."
With one arm looped tightly around her chest to pin her breasts in place, she slides the dress the rest of the way off and tosses it aside, the silk landing in a soft heap on the floor. She wears only a dark pair of underwear now, still not even terribly revealing by Flora's standards, and without ceremony, she steps back into the tub.
The warmth embraces her at once, a soft hiss escaping her lips as the water welcomes her in gentle if illusory waves. She sinks down, locking her ankles together and wrapping an arm across her shins to hold herself together, letting her long legs cover up the bulk of her body before reaching and twisting the tap until the gentle stream begins to flow again, warm and steady as it pours over her back.
Flora stares at Kai as he refuses to turn around, indignant, brows lifted in mock disbelief that’s only half for show. There’s a familiar spark kindling in her gaze, caught somewhere between flirtation and warning, but she doesn’t move. She doesn’t know whether to lean into it and push him back with her usual golden boldness, to yield and let herself disappear into the safety of old rhythms, or to simply tell him outright that this can't be a good idea.
Before she can decide, he steps forward.
Her laugh escapes her on a breath of incredulous disbelief, the sound curling up as he all but herds her back toward the tub with the kind of quiet determination only he can pull off. She gives him a look, one that's sharp with affection and soft with concern, something daring layered beneath something too honest to hide—and then, with a dramatic sigh, she rolls her eyes and lets the moment take her.
Carefully, Flora reaches for the hem of her shirt-dress and begins to peel it up from the bottom, slow and cautious to keep the silk from catching against skin still too raw to be touched without consequence. She lifts it to her shoulders, fingers shifting and stretching to avoid contact with the healing ridges that cross her back like unwelcome constellations. "After I was attacked, Remi gave me his health," she explains. "Which sounds great on paper, but it isn't healing. Not really. It just fused everything together in an instant." Her tone flattens a little. "So now the wounds aren’t open anymore, but they’re not exactly closed either. They’ve just...stuck. Which is why everyone keeps hovering with their creams, trying to coax the scars into something less painful and tight."
With one arm looped tightly around her chest to pin her breasts in place, she slides the dress the rest of the way off and tosses it aside, the silk landing in a soft heap on the floor. She wears only a dark pair of underwear now, still not even terribly revealing by Flora's standards, and without ceremony, she steps back into the tub.
The warmth embraces her at once, a soft hiss escaping her lips as the water welcomes her in gentle if illusory waves. She sinks down, locking her ankles together and wrapping an arm across her shins to hold herself together, letting her long legs cover up the bulk of her body before reaching and twisting the tap until the gentle stream begins to flow again, warm and steady as it pours over her back.
