flora
Flora chuckles, because really? She has no doubt Seven could swallow a raven whole if she put her mind to it, feathers and all.
Rolling her eyes, she nudges him with the same ease she might shove a door closed with her hip, as though he’s just being contrary for the fun of it and not making legitimate points. "The Sugartide, obviously," she says with a grin, "since my brand-new house doesn’t even have a bed yet. Construction only just wrapped up." Her chin tilts onto his chest as she fixes him with a mischievous stare, curls spilling like seafoam across his skin.
"Also," she continues, voice playful but threaded with a private shimmer of truth, "Ludo’s helping me stock the place with a few spirits to make living there a little easier." Her mind paints the picture—warm cups appearing at her elbow, lantern light flickering to life before she can strike a match, tea brewing in the kitchen—and if those same spirits chose to make mischief with some of her guests? Well, so be it. She doesn't mention that part of her motivation was to keep the silence at bay, to keep her house from feeling too lonely when it was just her there, instead just imagining Jack having to negotiate with a closet door in order to get his clothes from it.
Rolling her eyes, she nudges him with the same ease she might shove a door closed with her hip, as though he’s just being contrary for the fun of it and not making legitimate points. "The Sugartide, obviously," she says with a grin, "since my brand-new house doesn’t even have a bed yet. Construction only just wrapped up." Her chin tilts onto his chest as she fixes him with a mischievous stare, curls spilling like seafoam across his skin.
"Also," she continues, voice playful but threaded with a private shimmer of truth, "Ludo’s helping me stock the place with a few spirits to make living there a little easier." Her mind paints the picture—warm cups appearing at her elbow, lantern light flickering to life before she can strike a match, tea brewing in the kitchen—and if those same spirits chose to make mischief with some of her guests? Well, so be it. She doesn't mention that part of her motivation was to keep the silence at bay, to keep her house from feeling too lonely when it was just her there, instead just imagining Jack having to negotiate with a closet door in order to get his clothes from it.
you're under the feeling like teenagers in cars
it ain't robbing or stealing if the moment is ours
it ain't robbing or stealing if the moment is ours
