flora
Flora’s eyes lift the moment she hears Kaisel's enter, her gaze trailing after each step he takes as if her bones are too heavy to rise and meet him, but her heart has already leapt across the room. She watches in silence as he sets down his bag and moves the wine, noting the gesture but saying nothing of it. When he makes that quiet little joke about charcoal, she huffs a soft, near-soundless breath that might once have been a laugh if she had more in her to give. Instead, she just glances down at her hands and turns one palm up, studying the dark smudges beneath her ruined manicure with a faint curl of her lip.
"Art snobs can always tell," she murmurs, her voice low and uneven. "Store-bought charcoal doesn’t have the same...trauma." The word lands with a weak attempt at levity, but it dies out before it can take root.
As he leans in, her arm snakes around his waist, and the moment his lips brush the edge of her temple, she folds like paper. Her head presses against his stomach, face tucked into the fabric of his shirt as her fingers cling there like she might come undone if she lets go.
"It’s all gone," she whispers, the words barely there, trembling in the quiet space between them. She swallows hard, then tilts her head back just enough to look up at him, her eyes glassy and hollowed. "The bar...and the guild. Burned right to the ground."
"Art snobs can always tell," she murmurs, her voice low and uneven. "Store-bought charcoal doesn’t have the same...trauma." The word lands with a weak attempt at levity, but it dies out before it can take root.
As he leans in, her arm snakes around his waist, and the moment his lips brush the edge of her temple, she folds like paper. Her head presses against his stomach, face tucked into the fabric of his shirt as her fingers cling there like she might come undone if she lets go.
"It’s all gone," she whispers, the words barely there, trembling in the quiet space between them. She swallows hard, then tilts her head back just enough to look up at him, her eyes glassy and hollowed. "The bar...and the guild. Burned right to the ground."
How can a person know everything at 18 but nothing at 22?
Will you still want me when I'm nothing new?
Will you still want me when I'm nothing new?
