flora
Flora leans conspiratorially toward Kaisel, lowering her voice into a stage whisper that barely conceals her delight. "Oh, Asta’s haunt can be terrifying when he wants it to be," she declares with dramatic emphasis, grin flashing toward the butcher as though she’s recalling every shadow-soaked trick he’s ever pulled. The compliment hums warm through the words, teasing and fond in equal measure.
A soft, exaggerated sound escapes her when Kai slides her hand off his hip—a little grumble muffled behind the rim of her glass—but she settles quickly, fingers intertwining with his instead. Their joined hands swing easily between them, buoyant with the same brightness that’s still fizzing through her veins.
When Kai mentions the ocean’s temperature, she glances up at him through her lashes, biting her lip like she’s fighting a smile that refuses to behave. The shrug that follows is shamelessly coquettish, her curls brushing his arm as she tilts her head toward Danta. "Maybe I could even ask Dygra about it," she muses, as if summoning the ancient's goddess to adjust the sea’s thermostat is a perfectly reasonable suggestion.
At Danta’s purr, though, Flora’s laughter spills out in a quick, sparkling rush, too tipsy to bother hiding her amusement, or worry about Kai reading between the lines as a faint heat creeps up her throat. "You’re terrible," she scolds, the word softened by laughter.
"Of course there's a hottub at Wildering House. And I’m sure the spirits can scare up a few bathing suits if you’d like to take a dip." Her grin turns sly as she adds, "Or not." The ambiguity hangs there as to whether she means or not about wearing bathing suits or using the hottub at all, airy and deliberate, before she throws her head back with another laugh, curls bouncing.
Looking toward Asta, she gestures playfully with her drink. "I think your antlers would make a stunning wine glass holder if you'd rather not be used for laundry."
A soft, exaggerated sound escapes her when Kai slides her hand off his hip—a little grumble muffled behind the rim of her glass—but she settles quickly, fingers intertwining with his instead. Their joined hands swing easily between them, buoyant with the same brightness that’s still fizzing through her veins.
When Kai mentions the ocean’s temperature, she glances up at him through her lashes, biting her lip like she’s fighting a smile that refuses to behave. The shrug that follows is shamelessly coquettish, her curls brushing his arm as she tilts her head toward Danta. "Maybe I could even ask Dygra about it," she muses, as if summoning the ancient's goddess to adjust the sea’s thermostat is a perfectly reasonable suggestion.
At Danta’s purr, though, Flora’s laughter spills out in a quick, sparkling rush, too tipsy to bother hiding her amusement, or worry about Kai reading between the lines as a faint heat creeps up her throat. "You’re terrible," she scolds, the word softened by laughter.
"Of course there's a hottub at Wildering House. And I’m sure the spirits can scare up a few bathing suits if you’d like to take a dip." Her grin turns sly as she adds, "Or not." The ambiguity hangs there as to whether she means or not about wearing bathing suits or using the hottub at all, airy and deliberate, before she throws her head back with another laugh, curls bouncing.
Looking toward Asta, she gestures playfully with her drink. "I think your antlers would make a stunning wine glass holder if you'd rather not be used for laundry."
I hope you're wetting your appetite, finding your way into someone's eyes
I hope you're dreaming in black and white, and seeing in colour
I hope you're dreaming in black and white, and seeing in colour
