you can call me honey if you want
Her body stills in the quiet that follows, clay cool against her skin as the weight of his words settles like sunlight filtered through rain; gentle, but piercing all the same. After a breath, she nods slowly, lashes low and thoughtful. "Yeah," she murmurs, voice quieter than before, the edges worn soft with something heavier. "You’re probably right." Her fingers shift faintly against the towel, toes curling into the fabric beneath her. Unlike the way he was framing it in his mind, for Flora, it sat uneasily, like wanting it really was an undesirable quality in a leader.
When Kaisel growls about Harper, her mouth twitches upward, weary and fond and touched by the way he bristles so quickly on her behalf. "He said a lot of other mean things," she admits, her voice still light but wrapped in layers, like silk over splinters. "But that one hurt the most. That, and how everyone just...went along with his bullshit when he was clearly just being a bully." As Kai's fingers press more firmly into her skin, Flora's breath catches in her throat and she wriggles slightly beneath the touch, part tension, part reminder that it was her beneath his hands.
When he kneels beside her, when he pauses—not just to listen but to show that he’s listening—her heart swells so abruptly it nearly undoes her. Her arm shifts enough to brush her fingers against his shoulder, not enough to smear the mud on the other side, but just enough to touch, to ground herself in the reality of him. That he’s still here, still warm, still hers, even after hearing her say things she’s never said out loud before. He doesn’t flinch or pull away, and it's because of that that he's the only one who’s ever made her feel like it’s safe to say things that aren’t pretty.
Blinking slowly, gaze unfocused and far away, she lets herself drift back into the moment. "Do you really think I should?" she asks, voice barely above a whisper. Her head tilts toward him, cheek resting in the cradle of her arm. "Ruling with someone else is definitely the smarter option. If anything ever happened to me…" She trails off, the words dissolving, unfinished. And then—more rawly, more honestly—she adds, "But what if no one would want to?"
The fear tastes bitter even as she says it, the implication left unsaid: that maybe she isn’t enough, that maybe being the Doubletake and the Queen and everything else she’s tried to become hasn’t made her someone people choose. It wasn't the sort of vulnerability she could ever show to Jack—even though he took it anyway—but Kaisel had never taken more than she offered, and somehow that made it easier to give him everything.
The clay spreads across her back in warm strokes, drying to a pale dust that makes her feel like a statue in the making, something ancient and being uncovered all at once. She shivers slightly as he blows gently to cool it, her body reacting to the intimacy with a low hum of pleasure beneath her breath. "Mmm," she murmurs, soft and thoughtful, before glancing over her shoulder, a sly smile creeping across her lips. "Maybe I’ll ask Frey next for a literal rain shower in one room. Indoor stormcloud, just for us." Her grin brightens, eyes flicking playfully toward him. "We could make out in the rain, on demand."
When Kaisel growls about Harper, her mouth twitches upward, weary and fond and touched by the way he bristles so quickly on her behalf. "He said a lot of other mean things," she admits, her voice still light but wrapped in layers, like silk over splinters. "But that one hurt the most. That, and how everyone just...went along with his bullshit when he was clearly just being a bully." As Kai's fingers press more firmly into her skin, Flora's breath catches in her throat and she wriggles slightly beneath the touch, part tension, part reminder that it was her beneath his hands.
When he kneels beside her, when he pauses—not just to listen but to show that he’s listening—her heart swells so abruptly it nearly undoes her. Her arm shifts enough to brush her fingers against his shoulder, not enough to smear the mud on the other side, but just enough to touch, to ground herself in the reality of him. That he’s still here, still warm, still hers, even after hearing her say things she’s never said out loud before. He doesn’t flinch or pull away, and it's because of that that he's the only one who’s ever made her feel like it’s safe to say things that aren’t pretty.
Blinking slowly, gaze unfocused and far away, she lets herself drift back into the moment. "Do you really think I should?" she asks, voice barely above a whisper. Her head tilts toward him, cheek resting in the cradle of her arm. "Ruling with someone else is definitely the smarter option. If anything ever happened to me…" She trails off, the words dissolving, unfinished. And then—more rawly, more honestly—she adds, "But what if no one would want to?"
The fear tastes bitter even as she says it, the implication left unsaid: that maybe she isn’t enough, that maybe being the Doubletake and the Queen and everything else she’s tried to become hasn’t made her someone people choose. It wasn't the sort of vulnerability she could ever show to Jack—even though he took it anyway—but Kaisel had never taken more than she offered, and somehow that made it easier to give him everything.
The clay spreads across her back in warm strokes, drying to a pale dust that makes her feel like a statue in the making, something ancient and being uncovered all at once. She shivers slightly as he blows gently to cool it, her body reacting to the intimacy with a low hum of pleasure beneath her breath. "Mmm," she murmurs, soft and thoughtful, before glancing over her shoulder, a sly smile creeping across her lips. "Maybe I’ll ask Frey next for a literal rain shower in one room. Indoor stormcloud, just for us." Her grin brightens, eyes flicking playfully toward him. "We could make out in the rain, on demand."
