flora
Theatrical as ever, Flora wrinkles her nose with exaggerated disgust, but the expression carries a sincerity that seeps through the arch of her brows and the slight shudder skating down her spine. "Good," she murmurs, her voice quiet but full of meaning. Because even if the story ended with Kaisel more or less unharmed, the thought of him having come that close to being forced into something—something degrading and vile, something no one should have to endure—settles like lead in her gut. She’s never been in that position herself, not truly, but she can imagine it, too well, too viscerally, and the idea of it almost happening to him makes her feel like her skin doesn’t quite fit.
But mischief flits in quickly, lifting her expression with it, and with a grin curling up the corners of her mouth, she slips one bare foot between his. Her eyebrows rise in mock innocence as she peers down at him, her voice lilting sweetly through the question: "So I guess that means no foot kink?" It’s teasing but light, meant to pull him back from any shadows the memory might’ve stirred, to remind them both they’re safe here, on this ridiculous pile of sequins and skin.
When he goes on to thank her and speak so casually about calling on her and Spice in a pinch, something tender flickers through her gaze. "No, no," she laughs softly, shaking her head. "I didn’t mean I’d go handle it for you. I just meant if you ever wanted to, I’d lend you some of my favourite toys to make it memorable." Her smile grows faintly crooked, but the moment holds, and she finds herself studying his face in the glow of the overhead light, watching the way it plays off the copper flecks in his eyes and the angles of his cheekbones beneath the tousled fall of dark hair. Her grin returns with a sharper edge now, and she shifts slightly against him, her voice curling with affectionate challenge. "It wouldn't hurt your ego too badly? To call in your girlfriend when things get dicey?"
His puffed chest draws a snort from her, the gown comically lacking any of the assets he seems to be showing off. She arches an unimpressed brow and shimmies just a little against him, enough to make a show of her own cleavage as she lightly slaps his chest. "You grabbed tit first, actually, before giving tit, so really, we’re already even." She grins broadly as she says it, the sparkle in her eye entirely satisfied with this interpretation of events before clearing her throat.
"Welll..." she begins, shifting to settle more comfortably across him, her elbow tucked near his shoulder, "when I first got to Torchline, it was way worse than it is now by like...a million percent. So when I became Queen, I knew I couldn’t stop all of the crime—but I could track it. If I knew what was getting stolen, and where it was going, maybe I could keep a handle on it all." She shrugs like it’s nothing special, her voice drifting easily now, full of lazy nostalgia and understated pride. "So I started small. Just out of the back of the Hanged Man. There’s a room behind the bar, hidden behind an enchanted door—no one finds it unless they’re supposed to. Then we added caches: one in the Dusklight, another in the House of Midnight. We had one in my mom’s spa in Halo," she adds with a wrinkle of her nose, "but honestly, snow and cold? No thanks. Haven’t checked on it in years, ever since she moved to King's End."
Her chin tips up just slightly, eyes glinting with smugness now, a glimmer of that Torchline queen confidence bleeding through the comfort of her body draped over his. "We’ve actually got quite a few members these days, not that anyone advertises. It’s all word of mouth. And if someone ever catches me doing something I shouldn’t—moving things, hiding things, delivering things—I just say I run a Lost and Found." She flashes a grin sharp enough to match her tone. "It’s a believable enough cover. Stuff gets lost on the beach all the time." And with that, she leans in, her breath brushing warm against his throat as she adds, "Some of us are just very good at finding it."
But mischief flits in quickly, lifting her expression with it, and with a grin curling up the corners of her mouth, she slips one bare foot between his. Her eyebrows rise in mock innocence as she peers down at him, her voice lilting sweetly through the question: "So I guess that means no foot kink?" It’s teasing but light, meant to pull him back from any shadows the memory might’ve stirred, to remind them both they’re safe here, on this ridiculous pile of sequins and skin.
When he goes on to thank her and speak so casually about calling on her and Spice in a pinch, something tender flickers through her gaze. "No, no," she laughs softly, shaking her head. "I didn’t mean I’d go handle it for you. I just meant if you ever wanted to, I’d lend you some of my favourite toys to make it memorable." Her smile grows faintly crooked, but the moment holds, and she finds herself studying his face in the glow of the overhead light, watching the way it plays off the copper flecks in his eyes and the angles of his cheekbones beneath the tousled fall of dark hair. Her grin returns with a sharper edge now, and she shifts slightly against him, her voice curling with affectionate challenge. "It wouldn't hurt your ego too badly? To call in your girlfriend when things get dicey?"
His puffed chest draws a snort from her, the gown comically lacking any of the assets he seems to be showing off. She arches an unimpressed brow and shimmies just a little against him, enough to make a show of her own cleavage as she lightly slaps his chest. "You grabbed tit first, actually, before giving tit, so really, we’re already even." She grins broadly as she says it, the sparkle in her eye entirely satisfied with this interpretation of events before clearing her throat.
"Welll..." she begins, shifting to settle more comfortably across him, her elbow tucked near his shoulder, "when I first got to Torchline, it was way worse than it is now by like...a million percent. So when I became Queen, I knew I couldn’t stop all of the crime—but I could track it. If I knew what was getting stolen, and where it was going, maybe I could keep a handle on it all." She shrugs like it’s nothing special, her voice drifting easily now, full of lazy nostalgia and understated pride. "So I started small. Just out of the back of the Hanged Man. There’s a room behind the bar, hidden behind an enchanted door—no one finds it unless they’re supposed to. Then we added caches: one in the Dusklight, another in the House of Midnight. We had one in my mom’s spa in Halo," she adds with a wrinkle of her nose, "but honestly, snow and cold? No thanks. Haven’t checked on it in years, ever since she moved to King's End."
Her chin tips up just slightly, eyes glinting with smugness now, a glimmer of that Torchline queen confidence bleeding through the comfort of her body draped over his. "We’ve actually got quite a few members these days, not that anyone advertises. It’s all word of mouth. And if someone ever catches me doing something I shouldn’t—moving things, hiding things, delivering things—I just say I run a Lost and Found." She flashes a grin sharp enough to match her tone. "It’s a believable enough cover. Stuff gets lost on the beach all the time." And with that, she leans in, her breath brushing warm against his throat as she adds, "Some of us are just very good at finding it."
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
