Flora
Flora doesn’t flinch; she never has, and certainly not from Kaisel, nor his boisterous brand of affection. But as he sweeps her up, her breath catches sharp and audible against his ear, a soft gasp dragged from her ribs as instinct yanks her arms around his shoulders for balance. It’s not fear that tightens her body, but the headrush of being pressed so suddenly against someone she was trying very hard to keep at arm's length. The scent of him fills her lungs like a match lighting old paper, and the feel of his laugh against her ribs sends her stomach chasing itself in dizzy little circles.
She doesn’t speak right away when her feet touch the ground again. Instead, she lifts a hand to her curls, dragging her fingers through them to pull them back from her face, trying to compose herself even as colour floods her cheeks. Her chest rises in a slow exhale, one hand curling briefly in the hem of her cardigan before falling away again.
"Of course I meant it," she says softly, as if anything else would be absurd.
Her eyes don’t quite meet his, at least not right away, flicking briefly past him to the door before glancing down at the key still held between his fingers like it’s sacred. "Some of my stuff’s still inside," she adds, tone breezy but not casual, each word carefully placed. "I haven’t moved it all yet because my new place isn't quite done, but—" her voice dips just enough to make it an offering, not a joke "— yeah, it’s yours. If you want it."
She doesn’t speak right away when her feet touch the ground again. Instead, she lifts a hand to her curls, dragging her fingers through them to pull them back from her face, trying to compose herself even as colour floods her cheeks. Her chest rises in a slow exhale, one hand curling briefly in the hem of her cardigan before falling away again.
"Of course I meant it," she says softly, as if anything else would be absurd.
Her eyes don’t quite meet his, at least not right away, flicking briefly past him to the door before glancing down at the key still held between his fingers like it’s sacred. "Some of my stuff’s still inside," she adds, tone breezy but not casual, each word carefully placed. "I haven’t moved it all yet because my new place isn't quite done, but—" her voice dips just enough to make it an offering, not a joke "— yeah, it’s yours. If you want it."
I hope you're sweating the bigger stuff,
finding some peace in an honest love
Hope you stop when you've had enough & throw the towel in
finding some peace in an honest love
Hope you stop when you've had enough & throw the towel in
Code stolen from Queen Sky
