Flora
Sand. It's always there, just waiting. If you look for it out of the corner of your eye...oh, well you'll absolutely see it, building up while you sleep, just waiting for you to try and blink it away.,
"Oh?" Flora purrs innocently, lashes fluttering as she pauses mid-sweep to smile up at Kaisel with sugary brightness. "Did I accidentally touch you?" Her tone is so wide-eyed and gentle it practically comes with its own halo. "Just being thorough," she coos.
When he flaps about the meat like he’s discovered gold in a riverbed, Flora narrows her eyes, leaning in just enough to squint suspiciously at the molten landscape of cheese and crunch. Her brow arches like a very judgmental bridge and while her eyebrow game might not be as strong as Ronin's, she has learned from him over the years, and the arch of her brow speaks plainly: bullshit.
As Kaisel pokes her Flora inhales, sharp and dangerous, like a cat who’s just been flicked on the nose. Her mouth opens—ready to list, alphabetically, categorically all the reasons why he’s clearly wrong—when suddenly he swerves, claiming fault, throwing himself on the royal sword with a smirk and a chip and a wiggling pepper.
She freezes.
He turns his back.
Her jaw drops. And while he may not see the dagger glare she launches at his shoulder blades, there’s no doubt he’ll feel it, like a paper cut across his aura.
Then—calm, too calm—she hums a pretty, sing-song note. The kind of note that belongs in a lullaby right before the bass drops into chaos. "You know what?" she chirps sweetly. "You’re absolutely right. You’ve definitely earned it." Swanning past like she’s gliding down a red carpet made of vengeance, she pats his shoulder with all the grace and condescension of a queen forgiving a fool. "Enjoy your banquet," she murmurs, curls bouncing with the motion as she heads for the little hall, one finger hooked in the hem of her tank top.
The last thing Kaisel will hear before the doorway steals her away is her voice, light and lazy: "I’m gonna take a shower while you finish your well-deserved meal." And just before she vanishes from view, her white tank is peeled off over her head—casual, unhurried—revealing a flash of sun-kissed skin.
"Oh?" Flora purrs innocently, lashes fluttering as she pauses mid-sweep to smile up at Kaisel with sugary brightness. "Did I accidentally touch you?" Her tone is so wide-eyed and gentle it practically comes with its own halo. "Just being thorough," she coos.
When he flaps about the meat like he’s discovered gold in a riverbed, Flora narrows her eyes, leaning in just enough to squint suspiciously at the molten landscape of cheese and crunch. Her brow arches like a very judgmental bridge and while her eyebrow game might not be as strong as Ronin's, she has learned from him over the years, and the arch of her brow speaks plainly: bullshit.
As Kaisel pokes her Flora inhales, sharp and dangerous, like a cat who’s just been flicked on the nose. Her mouth opens—ready to list, alphabetically, categorically all the reasons why he’s clearly wrong—when suddenly he swerves, claiming fault, throwing himself on the royal sword with a smirk and a chip and a wiggling pepper.
She freezes.
He turns his back.
Her jaw drops. And while he may not see the dagger glare she launches at his shoulder blades, there’s no doubt he’ll feel it, like a paper cut across his aura.
Then—calm, too calm—she hums a pretty, sing-song note. The kind of note that belongs in a lullaby right before the bass drops into chaos. "You know what?" she chirps sweetly. "You’re absolutely right. You’ve definitely earned it." Swanning past like she’s gliding down a red carpet made of vengeance, she pats his shoulder with all the grace and condescension of a queen forgiving a fool. "Enjoy your banquet," she murmurs, curls bouncing with the motion as she heads for the little hall, one finger hooked in the hem of her tank top.
The last thing Kaisel will hear before the doorway steals her away is her voice, light and lazy: "I’m gonna take a shower while you finish your well-deserved meal." And just before she vanishes from view, her white tank is peeled off over her head—casual, unhurried—revealing a flash of sun-kissed skin.
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
