marked me like a bloodstain
Kaisel’s clarification lands like a stone in a pond. Even though there's no malice behind it, the ripple of consequence spreads fast all the same. Flora’s flush deepens at the realisation, a bloom of mortification creeping up her throat to stain her cheeks with rose. Of course he hadn’t meant them, and gods, how foolish she feels for thinking he might have. For letting that old, fragile hope flutter in her chest even for a moment. Her smile falters, barely perceptible, and she shifts slightly beneath the sting of salve to mask it.
Taking a breath, she listens as Kai continues, and for all her own messes, it turns out he's tangled in just as many, each thread wound tight with emotion and misunderstanding. She hears the frustration in his voice, the clumsy ache behind every word, and she knows what it’s like to try and say the right thing only for it to come out all wrong. What it’s like to fight for someone while the person you’re fighting for misunderstands the entire battle.
The salve is cool against her back, biting gently into the broken skin, but she grits her teeth and endures it, because the real sting isn’t physical. She wants to reach for him, to curl her fingers around his wrist and ground him, to smooth away the pain pinched into his brow, only she knows better. Touch is dangerous between them now. Touch could feel too much like more, so instead she shifts, turning carefully until she’s kneeling down with him, the black silk of her dress pooling around her knees like ink spilled between them.
"It probably isn't about every little thing so much as you probably just embarrassed her," she says gently, reaching for the words like puzzle pieces, trying to assemble them into something that won’t break further what’s already cracked. "It’s her birthday, all eyes on her. And then suddenly someone she cares about—maybe someone she hoped cared about her—is picking a fight with her dad and talking about another girl. She might not even be mad so much as...hurt. Or blindsided."
Her eyes drop for a second, lashes fanning across flushed cheeks. She exhales slowly, then lifts her gaze again, steady despite the heat that lingers in her face. "I doubt she wants you to be the kind of guy who’d ditch a friend for someone he'd literally just met, but...probably you need to make her feel like she's just as important to you." Pausing, quieter now, Flora's voice softens further. "Maybe she thought things were more official than they were. Or maybe she wants them to be, and finding out you slept with someone else makes it seem like you don't." Which, to be fair, really is how that reads.
The mention of Jack—of course it comes back to him—draws a small hitch from Flora’s breath, her body tightening instinctively. She covers it with a faint nod, her voice careful, too careful. "Yeah. Could’ve been Bassian." She doesn’t say what’s screaming beneath her skin. That Jack wouldn’t have needed Bassian to report anything. That he could’ve sifted through Kaisel’s thoughts like pages in a book and pulled out the worst of it, the details of it.
"I need to stop by the Hanged Man soon," she murmurs, her voice easing into something more practical, more composed, though her thumb fidgets with the edge of her dress. "If I see Caly, I’ll tell her the truth. That we’re just friends. And that night...that I was the one who..." Her gaze drops again, lashes fluttering as she exhales. "That I kissed you, even after you'd already been telling me about the date you were planning with her, so.." She looks back up, steadier now, though guilt colours her voice and sets her cheeks aflame. "If anyone’s to blame, it’s me."
Taking a breath, she listens as Kai continues, and for all her own messes, it turns out he's tangled in just as many, each thread wound tight with emotion and misunderstanding. She hears the frustration in his voice, the clumsy ache behind every word, and she knows what it’s like to try and say the right thing only for it to come out all wrong. What it’s like to fight for someone while the person you’re fighting for misunderstands the entire battle.
The salve is cool against her back, biting gently into the broken skin, but she grits her teeth and endures it, because the real sting isn’t physical. She wants to reach for him, to curl her fingers around his wrist and ground him, to smooth away the pain pinched into his brow, only she knows better. Touch is dangerous between them now. Touch could feel too much like more, so instead she shifts, turning carefully until she’s kneeling down with him, the black silk of her dress pooling around her knees like ink spilled between them.
"It probably isn't about every little thing so much as you probably just embarrassed her," she says gently, reaching for the words like puzzle pieces, trying to assemble them into something that won’t break further what’s already cracked. "It’s her birthday, all eyes on her. And then suddenly someone she cares about—maybe someone she hoped cared about her—is picking a fight with her dad and talking about another girl. She might not even be mad so much as...hurt. Or blindsided."
Her eyes drop for a second, lashes fanning across flushed cheeks. She exhales slowly, then lifts her gaze again, steady despite the heat that lingers in her face. "I doubt she wants you to be the kind of guy who’d ditch a friend for someone he'd literally just met, but...probably you need to make her feel like she's just as important to you." Pausing, quieter now, Flora's voice softens further. "Maybe she thought things were more official than they were. Or maybe she wants them to be, and finding out you slept with someone else makes it seem like you don't." Which, to be fair, really is how that reads.
The mention of Jack—of course it comes back to him—draws a small hitch from Flora’s breath, her body tightening instinctively. She covers it with a faint nod, her voice careful, too careful. "Yeah. Could’ve been Bassian." She doesn’t say what’s screaming beneath her skin. That Jack wouldn’t have needed Bassian to report anything. That he could’ve sifted through Kaisel’s thoughts like pages in a book and pulled out the worst of it, the details of it.
"I need to stop by the Hanged Man soon," she murmurs, her voice easing into something more practical, more composed, though her thumb fidgets with the edge of her dress. "If I see Caly, I’ll tell her the truth. That we’re just friends. And that night...that I was the one who..." Her gaze drops again, lashes fluttering as she exhales. "That I kissed you, even after you'd already been telling me about the date you were planning with her, so.." She looks back up, steadier now, though guilt colours her voice and sets her cheeks aflame. "If anyone’s to blame, it’s me."
