flora
Flora’s grin is triumphant. "Excellent," she hums, pretending to fuss with a corner of gauze while clearly savouring what she assumes is Niki’s agreement to attend.
While Niki retreats to deal with the kettle, she chuckles to herself, low and fond, brushing her fingers over the little bone moth now stitched with a thread of black ribbon. Leave it to Kaisel to introduce himself with supernatural salt-flinging. He never did anything halfway—not his magic, not his affections, not his wildly misdirected suspicion of poor, sweet Niki. The memory stings a little, as most Kai-related things have lately, but it’s soothed by the comfort of this room and the company within it. "Yeah, that sounds about right," she says once he’s returned and settled with his tea, her tone light as ever. "Kaisel doesn’t really believe in ‘halfway.’ It’s full throttle or nothing with him."
Her gaze slides sideways, lips twitching. "And you, sir," she adds, a hand gesturing vaguely in his direction, "for all your talk of being mortal and achy and altogether breakable, do move like a goddamn ghost. You do realise you’re completely silent when you want to be, right?" Her brows lift, teasing and pointed.
She shrugs with one shoulder, reaching for her tea and spooning in a rather audacious amount of sugar cubes. "Honestly, though, if Kaisel is so afraid of spirits, I’m not sure why he’s decided to settle down in King’s End of all places. That entire region practically whistles with the dead." Flora gives the tea a stir, the spoon tapping lightly against porcelain as she finally lifts her eyes to the spread of fabric, clasps, feathers, and bone trimmings scattered across the table like macabre confetti. With a quick nod of her chin, she gestures to it all. "Anything calling to you? Colour, texture, aesthetic vibe? I figured something sharp and shadowy might suit you, but maybe you’re secretly a bone-white velvet and drama sleeves kind of guy."
While Niki retreats to deal with the kettle, she chuckles to herself, low and fond, brushing her fingers over the little bone moth now stitched with a thread of black ribbon. Leave it to Kaisel to introduce himself with supernatural salt-flinging. He never did anything halfway—not his magic, not his affections, not his wildly misdirected suspicion of poor, sweet Niki. The memory stings a little, as most Kai-related things have lately, but it’s soothed by the comfort of this room and the company within it. "Yeah, that sounds about right," she says once he’s returned and settled with his tea, her tone light as ever. "Kaisel doesn’t really believe in ‘halfway.’ It’s full throttle or nothing with him."
Her gaze slides sideways, lips twitching. "And you, sir," she adds, a hand gesturing vaguely in his direction, "for all your talk of being mortal and achy and altogether breakable, do move like a goddamn ghost. You do realise you’re completely silent when you want to be, right?" Her brows lift, teasing and pointed.
She shrugs with one shoulder, reaching for her tea and spooning in a rather audacious amount of sugar cubes. "Honestly, though, if Kaisel is so afraid of spirits, I’m not sure why he’s decided to settle down in King’s End of all places. That entire region practically whistles with the dead." Flora gives the tea a stir, the spoon tapping lightly against porcelain as she finally lifts her eyes to the spread of fabric, clasps, feathers, and bone trimmings scattered across the table like macabre confetti. With a quick nod of her chin, she gestures to it all. "Anything calling to you? Colour, texture, aesthetic vibe? I figured something sharp and shadowy might suit you, but maybe you’re secretly a bone-white velvet and drama sleeves kind of guy."
I can't stop you putting roots in my dreamland
