Flora
The colour drains from Flora's face so quickly it feels like it might never return, leaving only the watery gleam of her eyes to catch the light. Kaisel’s question hits her like a skipped heartbeat—one of the ones that doesn’t come back for a long, aching moment. Her voice is a whisper when it finally does: "I don’t know." It’s not a defence. Not an excuse. Just the truth, bare and fragile as glass.
Her thumb moves without thinking, brushing lightly over his hand as she looks down at where they’re still laced together, fingers still knotted like nothing between them had frayed. "He’s never tried before," she murmurs. "Not like this, anyway." Her throat works around the next words, and gods, she knows how they must sound. "I know you must hate hearing this," she says, quieter now, like the sea might carry it away before it can hurt him too deeply. "But if it were you—if the roles were reversed—I’d fight just as hard for you."
And maybe that won’t help. Maybe it’ll only make things worse. But it’s all she has. The one last truth she can give him to prove that her love isn’t cruel just because it refuses to fall neatly into place. That it isn’t heartless, even if it’s tearing them both to pieces. That if he thinks she’s a fool for holding on, then at least he’ll know she’d be that same fool for him.
When he tells her not to choose—not yet—Flora’s breath catches audibly in her throat. It’s too much. Too kind. Too understanding. Her fingers tremble where they rest in his, like the weight of his grace is something she hasn’t earned and doesn’t know how to carry. Her eyes fall to his mouth for just a second, lips parting with a broken breath like maybe she wants to kiss him—to say thank you with her hands and her body and all the things words can’t carry.
But she doesn’t. Surely that would be too cruel, too cold in a way she won't be able to bring him back from. So instead, she nods. A tiny, barely-there motion, like she’s scared it might shatter whatever fragile thread is still holding them together. Her eyes fall again to their hands, where her grip has only tightened, as if letting go now would be the last and worst mistake. "You deserve my best," she whispers, raw and honest and aching. "And I wish I was better than this right now."
Her thumb moves without thinking, brushing lightly over his hand as she looks down at where they’re still laced together, fingers still knotted like nothing between them had frayed. "He’s never tried before," she murmurs. "Not like this, anyway." Her throat works around the next words, and gods, she knows how they must sound. "I know you must hate hearing this," she says, quieter now, like the sea might carry it away before it can hurt him too deeply. "But if it were you—if the roles were reversed—I’d fight just as hard for you."
And maybe that won’t help. Maybe it’ll only make things worse. But it’s all she has. The one last truth she can give him to prove that her love isn’t cruel just because it refuses to fall neatly into place. That it isn’t heartless, even if it’s tearing them both to pieces. That if he thinks she’s a fool for holding on, then at least he’ll know she’d be that same fool for him.
When he tells her not to choose—not yet—Flora’s breath catches audibly in her throat. It’s too much. Too kind. Too understanding. Her fingers tremble where they rest in his, like the weight of his grace is something she hasn’t earned and doesn’t know how to carry. Her eyes fall to his mouth for just a second, lips parting with a broken breath like maybe she wants to kiss him—to say thank you with her hands and her body and all the things words can’t carry.
But she doesn’t. Surely that would be too cruel, too cold in a way she won't be able to bring him back from. So instead, she nods. A tiny, barely-there motion, like she’s scared it might shatter whatever fragile thread is still holding them together. Her eyes fall again to their hands, where her grip has only tightened, as if letting go now would be the last and worst mistake. "You deserve my best," she whispers, raw and honest and aching. "And I wish I was better than this right now."
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
