Flora
Flora’s grin grows warm at Jack's digs toward Bassian, the affection in it impossible to hide. Her gaze slides back to him, lashes lowering before she widens her eyes in mock earnestness. "Yeah, and maybe one day you’ll even get to see me in it," she says, before her mind clarifies with feathers streaking across bare skin, barely veiling the curve of her breasts before tangling soft and wicked between her thighs.
The shift of his body draws her attention, and she exhales softly, reading the slow stretch of muscle as the reanimation that comes before departure. It’s for the best, she tells herself—better to cut the rendezvous short before one of them can ruin it—though gods, she’d happily tease the moment into the afternoon. Instead, her mouth curls into a smirk and she nods, voice light. "Far be it for me to tell you how to run your ship or what flags to fly."
Flora stretches, the motion all easy indulgence before she settles again, searching until she finds the sharp, familiar blue of his eyes. "I’ll keep an eye out on your masts, then." She hums, ignoring the golden spray of anticipation that gilds her thoughts.
As for the Cordillera, her smile returns, bright and sure. "I’m confident I can make it there and back," she says, pausing just long enough to let the smirk grow. "Especially now that my rigging has been thoroughly checked." A more cautious man might have checked it twice, but Flora wasn't about to complain.
The shift of his body draws her attention, and she exhales softly, reading the slow stretch of muscle as the reanimation that comes before departure. It’s for the best, she tells herself—better to cut the rendezvous short before one of them can ruin it—though gods, she’d happily tease the moment into the afternoon. Instead, her mouth curls into a smirk and she nods, voice light. "Far be it for me to tell you how to run your ship or what flags to fly."
Flora stretches, the motion all easy indulgence before she settles again, searching until she finds the sharp, familiar blue of his eyes. "I’ll keep an eye out on your masts, then." She hums, ignoring the golden spray of anticipation that gilds her thoughts.
As for the Cordillera, her smile returns, bright and sure. "I’m confident I can make it there and back," she says, pausing just long enough to let the smirk grow. "Especially now that my rigging has been thoroughly checked." A more cautious man might have checked it twice, but Flora wasn't about to complain.
I trace the evidence, make it make some sense
why the wound is still bleedin'
why the wound is still bleedin'
Code stolen from Queen Sky
