flora
Flora lets out a scandalised gasp so sharp it could cut through silk, her eye narrowing beneath the sagging rim of the blanket. "I shouldn’t look like anything!" she shouts, outraged and howling with laughter, "Because there aren't supposed to be HOLES IN OUR ROOF, you toad!"
Her words echo through the collapsing chamber of blankets like the righteous fury of a theatre queen mid-monologue—equal parts drama and disaster, but mostly disaster.
And then she vanishes as a muffled scuffle can be heard from within. A rustling. The faint thump of knees and elbows and the rustle-slide of fleece. A shadow shifts behind the patchwork walls, and when she emerges again, it’s with all the triumphant menace of a jungle cat who’s had enough.
A pillow is clenched between her teeth, her curls standing in electric rebellion around her head like a storm front, and her eyes practically blaze with mischievous vengeance. She pounces. One knee plants on either side of Kaisel’s thighs, the curve of her hips swaying as she settles over him like a goddess scorned, and absolutely about to make it his problem. "You wanna laugh?" she huffs, muffled around the pillow. "Laugh at THIS."
And then it begins.
With the full force of chaos and justice on her side, she whacks him. Over and over, the pillow descending with a wild rhythm that has more flair than force, feathers and drama flying in equal measure. "THIS IS FOR THE ROOF," she cries. Whap. "THIS IS FOR YOUR STUPID RULES." Whap-whap. "THIS IS FOR—" she pauses, forgetting the next crime, then shrugs. "—SOMETHING ELSE YOU’VE DONE, I’M SURE!" Her laughter rings out, wild and effervescent, a riot of joy and static-charged curls as she rains down fluffy vengeance.
Her words echo through the collapsing chamber of blankets like the righteous fury of a theatre queen mid-monologue—equal parts drama and disaster, but mostly disaster.
And then she vanishes as a muffled scuffle can be heard from within. A rustling. The faint thump of knees and elbows and the rustle-slide of fleece. A shadow shifts behind the patchwork walls, and when she emerges again, it’s with all the triumphant menace of a jungle cat who’s had enough.
A pillow is clenched between her teeth, her curls standing in electric rebellion around her head like a storm front, and her eyes practically blaze with mischievous vengeance. She pounces. One knee plants on either side of Kaisel’s thighs, the curve of her hips swaying as she settles over him like a goddess scorned, and absolutely about to make it his problem. "You wanna laugh?" she huffs, muffled around the pillow. "Laugh at THIS."
And then it begins.
With the full force of chaos and justice on her side, she whacks him. Over and over, the pillow descending with a wild rhythm that has more flair than force, feathers and drama flying in equal measure. "THIS IS FOR THE ROOF," she cries. Whap. "THIS IS FOR YOUR STUPID RULES." Whap-whap. "THIS IS FOR—" she pauses, forgetting the next crime, then shrugs. "—SOMETHING ELSE YOU’VE DONE, I’M SURE!" Her laughter rings out, wild and effervescent, a riot of joy and static-charged curls as she rains down fluffy vengeance.
you don't know that you're living til' you're carrying scars
you're either falling in love or falling apart
you're either falling in love or falling apart
