yeah I got heartbreak that I reminisce about
Flora laughs, bright and bubbling like the cider fizzing against her lips. "Mm, is that because you’re a poor speller?" she teases, eyes dancing as she leans just slightly into Nikandr 's side, her voice full of mock-concern. "Should I be worried you’re actually saying I look ghoul instead of good?"
She takes a healthier sip than anyone in a corset probably should, the spiced cider cutting through the sugar like a blade through satin. Her gaze turns, drawn like a tide to the trickle of black and white masks now beginning to arrive, each one a stitched variation on Ludo’s favourite face. "Weird, right?" she murmurs, nudging him gently with her elbow. "It’s like being in a cult, but...festive."
Never one to linger in subtlety too long, she downs the rest of her cider in one determined tilt, the curl of her nose betraying the kick at the bottom. "Ugh. Good, but not efficient," she declares, turning toward the drinks table again like a woman on a mission. She plucks a shot glass of something clear and bracing, the scent of clove and star anise practically daring her. "Much better," she hums, knocking it back with a snap of her lashes and a pleased little shiver. "My corset’s too tight to get full on cider," she explains breezily, as if that’s the only reason. "And while I wouldn't say no to be unlaced midparty, I'm going to need my liquor in very small, very effective doses."
She flashes a grin over her shoulder, lips glossed red and daring. "Now. How’s that swaying feeling coming along? If it isn't, you could always do a shot as well and I promise the ground will do all the swaying for you."
She takes a healthier sip than anyone in a corset probably should, the spiced cider cutting through the sugar like a blade through satin. Her gaze turns, drawn like a tide to the trickle of black and white masks now beginning to arrive, each one a stitched variation on Ludo’s favourite face. "Weird, right?" she murmurs, nudging him gently with her elbow. "It’s like being in a cult, but...festive."
Never one to linger in subtlety too long, she downs the rest of her cider in one determined tilt, the curl of her nose betraying the kick at the bottom. "Ugh. Good, but not efficient," she declares, turning toward the drinks table again like a woman on a mission. She plucks a shot glass of something clear and bracing, the scent of clove and star anise practically daring her. "Much better," she hums, knocking it back with a snap of her lashes and a pleased little shiver. "My corset’s too tight to get full on cider," she explains breezily, as if that’s the only reason. "And while I wouldn't say no to be unlaced midparty, I'm going to need my liquor in very small, very effective doses."
She flashes a grin over her shoulder, lips glossed red and daring. "Now. How’s that swaying feeling coming along? If it isn't, you could always do a shot as well and I promise the ground will do all the swaying for you."
some real big things I still gotta figure out
