flora
Glancing over her shoulder at the quiet rustle of fabric as Kaisel shifts out of bed, Flora watches the faint glitter of sequins catch the light in small, apologetic flashes. The movement alone doesn’t disarm her, nor does the way his arms open in that half-familiar shape, the one she fits into so easily when she lets herself. Defensive, stubborn, the edges of her voice tug tight as she says, "It sure sounded like that’s what you thought of me." And as he continues—"all you bribe with"—implying her body had been on the table at one point, her eyes widen in sharp, incredulous emphasis, hand slicing through the air between them like punctuation. "I have never offered my body as a bribe. Ever. To anyone."
Each word lands with the clarity of glass set on stone, no room left for reinterpretation. And though his apology doesn’t erase the bruise of the moment, it lingers with a kind of quiet ache between them, softening her limbs just a little. Enough to hesitate. Enough to see him wilt down to the floor, no longer trying to stay tall in front of her, no longer glittering with charm, and it unlocks her. Not with drama or declarations, but with the way her body moves before she even knows she’s decided to.
Her shirt barely brushes the top of her underwear as she crosses to him, the cool floor kisses her knees as she sinks in front of him. Bare thighs brush against the warmth of his legs, her knees splaying against his feet without fanfare or ceremony, only instinct and concern. "What are you actually asking me?" she says gently, and there’s no venom in it now, just the careful brush of curiosity over something raw. Because Kaisel has asked things before, he’s circled Jack like a storm circling the coast, never quite making landfall. But now this feels different, like lightning looking for somewhere to strike on the heels of all the other questions he'd ever asked about she and the captain.
Flora lets the question hang a moment before combing her fingers through her curls, a frustrated habit that fails to untangle much of anything. Her gaze drifts out the wide windows that frame the Ahi Coast in evening glow. The sea is calmer now, the harbour still; there's no ruddy maroon sails, only the open sprawl of ocean and the hollowness that follows when something leaves for good. "It’s easier," she says at last, slowly, carefully, her voice a hush in the warm air between them. "With him gone. Not having to wonder if I’ll run into him somewhere." Her hand reaches for one of Kaisel's, fingers gentle where they curl around his knee. "But it feels awful too."
She swallows, trying to shape something that doesn’t sound like she's crying over an ex-boyfriend because it's so much deeper than that. "Because of me, someone left the only place they’ve ever called home. The docks he built everything on, the crew that followed him, the reputation, the business...all of it." Her eyes shine with unshed tears. "He left everything because of me." Her head shakes, barely, as if even now she can’t quite believe it. "You can’t imagine how shitty that feels." Not only because she doubts if Kaisel would have ever put himself in that sort of position, but also because without actually knowing Jack, it was impossible to understand just how painful of a reaction this was from the captain.
Each word lands with the clarity of glass set on stone, no room left for reinterpretation. And though his apology doesn’t erase the bruise of the moment, it lingers with a kind of quiet ache between them, softening her limbs just a little. Enough to hesitate. Enough to see him wilt down to the floor, no longer trying to stay tall in front of her, no longer glittering with charm, and it unlocks her. Not with drama or declarations, but with the way her body moves before she even knows she’s decided to.
Her shirt barely brushes the top of her underwear as she crosses to him, the cool floor kisses her knees as she sinks in front of him. Bare thighs brush against the warmth of his legs, her knees splaying against his feet without fanfare or ceremony, only instinct and concern. "What are you actually asking me?" she says gently, and there’s no venom in it now, just the careful brush of curiosity over something raw. Because Kaisel has asked things before, he’s circled Jack like a storm circling the coast, never quite making landfall. But now this feels different, like lightning looking for somewhere to strike on the heels of all the other questions he'd ever asked about she and the captain.
Flora lets the question hang a moment before combing her fingers through her curls, a frustrated habit that fails to untangle much of anything. Her gaze drifts out the wide windows that frame the Ahi Coast in evening glow. The sea is calmer now, the harbour still; there's no ruddy maroon sails, only the open sprawl of ocean and the hollowness that follows when something leaves for good. "It’s easier," she says at last, slowly, carefully, her voice a hush in the warm air between them. "With him gone. Not having to wonder if I’ll run into him somewhere." Her hand reaches for one of Kaisel's, fingers gentle where they curl around his knee. "But it feels awful too."
She swallows, trying to shape something that doesn’t sound like she's crying over an ex-boyfriend because it's so much deeper than that. "Because of me, someone left the only place they’ve ever called home. The docks he built everything on, the crew that followed him, the reputation, the business...all of it." Her eyes shine with unshed tears. "He left everything because of me." Her head shakes, barely, as if even now she can’t quite believe it. "You can’t imagine how shitty that feels." Not only because she doubts if Kaisel would have ever put himself in that sort of position, but also because without actually knowing Jack, it was impossible to understand just how painful of a reaction this was from the captain.
lust's a liar, a short lived fire
it isn't what you and I are at all
it isn't what you and I are at all
