flora
Flora shifts where she straddles him, her thighs pressing in with a slight squeeze that offers enough stability to let her hands relax and twine properly with his. Her grip is soft but certain, threaded through with the kind of quiet tension that only grows heavier as his words sink in. When he jokes about being on everyone’s shit list, her smile flickers, faint and tinged with something uneasy. The flush in her cheeks deepens, blooming scarlet along her skin as he circles back to Safrin, and her fingers flinch tighter against his. "I know I usually throw punches first and plan later," she murmurs, her voice low and reluctant, "but being Torchline’s only ruler now kind of means I can’t afford to pick fights with our patron herald and three of her kids, especially when two of them probably already hate me and the third is your ex." She huffs gently, the sound not quite annoyed but unmistakably exasperated with herself, and despite the tension she manages the ghost of a wry smile as she glances down at him. "It's just not a smart play, no matter how satisfying it might be."
The fact that his desire to reclaim the bar hadn’t come from any cruel place, hadn’t been some hidden grudge against Caly, eases something inside her she hadn’t realized was coiled quite so tight. It reassures her in a way she can’t immediately name, and she exhales softly, brushing her thumbs along the ridges of his knuckles. Her blush only darkens as he mentions the changes that had already started happening at the Hanged Man—changes made before the bar was even fully theirs—and Flora nods slowly, sadness catching at the edge of her mouth as the memory of it lands hard.
Her first instinct is to lean down and kiss him, to blanket over his guilt with something sugar-sweet and tender, to press the weight of her reassurance against his lips, but she doesn’t. She stays where she is, poised and open, breath fluttering like a held note between them as she watches him from above. She wants to give him something better than comfort, something truer. And so, after a moment spent carefully arranging the words in her head, she lifts one of his hands and guides it gently to rest against her chest, her hands cradling it. Her chin comes to rest on the back of his fingers, her eyes fluttering shut for the span of a breath before she opens them again and lets the honesty spill out in a voice too soft to be anything but sincere.
"It felt like such a blow," she says quietly, "when I went in to talk to Caly and everything was already different." Her lashes lower, not in shame but in a kind of quiet grief, and her words spill out more freely now that they’ve begun. "I joked about putting myself back on the payroll, trying to keep it light, and she just shut me out. Cold. Like I didn’t belong anymore." Her fingers clutch at his hand, pressing it all the more against her, as if her body is working through some of the hurt before her heart can. "It felt like a trap made out of quicksand. Like no matter how I explained myself, it would always look like I was trying to take something from Caly—first you, then the bar—and that there was no way to split either one. Not really. I mean…how was I ever meant to work alongside B.M.F’s kids and pretend it didn’t matter?"
She presses her lips to Kaisel's knuckles, letting them linger there in a kiss so delicate it feels more like a sigh. Her eyes rise slowly above the line of his hand, finding his gaze again and holding it as a quiet smile begins to bloom against his skin. The shape of it is small but sure, like dawn cracking over the edge of the sea. "I'm not losing things because of you," she says, the words warm now, tinged with something clearer and brighter than regret. "I'm choosing you over those things."
Her smile curves more fully now, her fingers tightening around his as if anchoring the vow in flesh. "I’d pick you over the Hanged Man any day," she continues, her voice dipping again to something soft but resonant. "It hurt so much because I thought I was doing the right thing. For you, for Caly, for everyone. I thought not demanding the bar back was me trying to be the bigger person, and also trying not to hurt either of you, even if it felt like I was losing everything." Her eyes shine with something more than just the lights in the room; it’s all there now, written across her face—the ache, the hope, the choice she’s already made. " But it doesn’t feel like that anymore," she whispers. "Because now I have you."
The fact that his desire to reclaim the bar hadn’t come from any cruel place, hadn’t been some hidden grudge against Caly, eases something inside her she hadn’t realized was coiled quite so tight. It reassures her in a way she can’t immediately name, and she exhales softly, brushing her thumbs along the ridges of his knuckles. Her blush only darkens as he mentions the changes that had already started happening at the Hanged Man—changes made before the bar was even fully theirs—and Flora nods slowly, sadness catching at the edge of her mouth as the memory of it lands hard.
Her first instinct is to lean down and kiss him, to blanket over his guilt with something sugar-sweet and tender, to press the weight of her reassurance against his lips, but she doesn’t. She stays where she is, poised and open, breath fluttering like a held note between them as she watches him from above. She wants to give him something better than comfort, something truer. And so, after a moment spent carefully arranging the words in her head, she lifts one of his hands and guides it gently to rest against her chest, her hands cradling it. Her chin comes to rest on the back of his fingers, her eyes fluttering shut for the span of a breath before she opens them again and lets the honesty spill out in a voice too soft to be anything but sincere.
"It felt like such a blow," she says quietly, "when I went in to talk to Caly and everything was already different." Her lashes lower, not in shame but in a kind of quiet grief, and her words spill out more freely now that they’ve begun. "I joked about putting myself back on the payroll, trying to keep it light, and she just shut me out. Cold. Like I didn’t belong anymore." Her fingers clutch at his hand, pressing it all the more against her, as if her body is working through some of the hurt before her heart can. "It felt like a trap made out of quicksand. Like no matter how I explained myself, it would always look like I was trying to take something from Caly—first you, then the bar—and that there was no way to split either one. Not really. I mean…how was I ever meant to work alongside B.M.F’s kids and pretend it didn’t matter?"
She presses her lips to Kaisel's knuckles, letting them linger there in a kiss so delicate it feels more like a sigh. Her eyes rise slowly above the line of his hand, finding his gaze again and holding it as a quiet smile begins to bloom against his skin. The shape of it is small but sure, like dawn cracking over the edge of the sea. "I'm not losing things because of you," she says, the words warm now, tinged with something clearer and brighter than regret. "I'm choosing you over those things."
Her smile curves more fully now, her fingers tightening around his as if anchoring the vow in flesh. "I’d pick you over the Hanged Man any day," she continues, her voice dipping again to something soft but resonant. "It hurt so much because I thought I was doing the right thing. For you, for Caly, for everyone. I thought not demanding the bar back was me trying to be the bigger person, and also trying not to hurt either of you, even if it felt like I was losing everything." Her eyes shine with something more than just the lights in the room; it’s all there now, written across her face—the ache, the hope, the choice she’s already made. " But it doesn’t feel like that anymore," she whispers. "Because now I have you."
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
